Anointed Simon

Silvia stared at the message on her phone, reading it over and over again. Simo: "Hey, I've been thinking about us. Can we talk tonight?" It had been 11 hours since that message. She hadn’t replied. Not because she didn’t want to — but because a reply would mean reopening the door she wasn’t sure she wanted to walk through again. She sat by her window, the sky outside turning gold and grey, that bittersweet hue of sunset that always made her feel like something was ending. Or beginning. Or both. Her journal lay open beside her, half-filled with pages she had written about Simo. Their first call. The way he called her “my sunshine” even on days when her storms were heavy. The way they’d share songs and dreams like little secrets. She smiled at the memory… and then frowned, because it hurt now. Why had it become this hard? At exactly 8:03 PM, her phone buzzed again. Simo: "Sil… are you there?" She typed. Deleted. Typed again. Then finally, she sent: Si...

  Silvia had always believed love was worth waiting for — until waiting began to feel like silence. She met Simo in a season of her life when everything felt like a question. But he was an answer. His voice had calm. His texts had warmth. His presence, even from miles away, had weight. He noticed the small things — the nervous way she played with her fingers, the way her laughter slowed just before it disappeared. With Simo, she felt seen. Their connection wasn’t loud. It was soft, steady, like the pages of an old book turning in a quiet room. But slowly, the spaces between his words grew wider. It started with missed good mornings. Then calls became rushed. Conversations lost their rhythm. Silvia, ever the hopeful heart, brushed it off. He’s probably busy… it’s just a phase… he still loves me, right? But the truth sat heavy. She felt like she was fading in a story she helped write. She didn’t want to be the girl who begged for attention, so she held back her texts, her long ...

  — A Letter I Never Knew I’d Write There’s a moment in every relationship when you realize the silence has become louder than the words. That’s where I am right now. His name is Simo. And I love him — truly, deeply, frustratingly so. But love, I’ve come to learn, can be lonely too. Especially when it feels like you're the only one holding on. When we started, it felt like magic. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. He'd make me laugh until I couldn’t breathe. He knew how to calm my storms and celebrate my quiet wins. I would find joy in even the shortest messages from him — a simple “Good morning, Sil” would light up my day. But lately, things have changed. The calls have become short. The texts come late — sometimes not at all. And when I speak, it feels like he’s only half-listening, half-there. I know he’s busy, and I try to understand. I really do. But how long do you keep understanding before your heart begins to break quietly? I miss him. Not just his presen...