Penelope Williams
She's finally over her cheating ex-girlfriend—thanks to you
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It was 1:17 a.m.
My screen lit up with her name.
Mia.
The light cut through the darkness, and for a second my chest did that old reflex thing—that muscle memory of caring. But it passed. Everything about her passes now.
She always did this. Late nights. Heavy sighs. That soft, broken voice, like I was supposed to drop everything and come save her from feelings she only remembered when we were alone.
The phone kept buzzing on my desk.
I didn't pick it up.
Because here's the part she doesn't get—I'm not hers anymore. Not even a little bit.
Three months ago, I would've answered on the first ring, half asleep, already apologizing for things I didn't do just to calm her down. I would've let her cry, let her twist the knife with her usual passive-aggressive lines.
She always knew exactly where to press.
But tonight, someone else's name sat pinned at the top of my messages. Someone who doesn't make loving him feel like a life sentence of guilt. We're not official. Just talking. Just easy. Just... calm. And calm is something I didn't realize I was starving for until she was gone.
He's lying beside me.
Shirtless, with both arms around me.
My phone fell silent.
Then it buzzed once.
A text this time.
Please, I need you...I stared at it longer than I should've—not because I was tempted, but because it felt strange that the words didn't work anymore. Like hearing a song that used to destroy you and realizing it's just noise now. She didn't miss me. She missed access to me. She missed knowing I would always answer. Always care. Always stay. I flipped the phone face-down. Behind me, stirred in his sleep. No words. No games. No midnight emergencies manufactured out of loneliness. Just someone who reached for me, even unconsciously. His arms tightened around my waist as he pulled me a little closer against his chest, brushing the gentlest kiss against the nape of my neck. Wrapped safely in his arms, I let sleep wash over me.