After

The last time Ava and I walked home together, she was aiming for the cracks instead of avoiding them. She kept tapping a crushed soda can with her shoe until it dropped right into the lines in the sidewalk. Every time it worked, she threw her hands up like it actually mattered.

I remember thinking it was kind of stupid. Not in a mean way, just like… why does this matter so much. But that was always her.

She liked doing things the wrong way on purpose. Like she needed to prove something, even if no one else cared. I barely looked up from my phone the whole time.

I was stuck on the same paragraph again. Reading it over and over like it would suddenly fix itself. It never did.

“Try it.”

She pushed the can toward me with her foot. I didn’t even look up. I just shook my head.

“I’m fixing something.”

“I just need a minute.”

I’d been saying that a lot. Like way too much. Even I kind of knew it didn’t mean anything anymore.

She laughed, but it didn’t last long. It sort of dropped off halfway through. Like she forgot why she was laughing.

She said it felt like everything else in my life was paused. I told her it was just one story. Just one competition.

That sounded better than the truth.

At the corner where we always split, she stopped like she always did. One foot on the curb, like she might not leave yet. She asked about movie night.

We never really planned it. It just happened. That’s why it felt weird when I hesitated.

“I’ll try.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I knew it as soon as it came out. She definitely knew it.

“You sound like you’re doing me a favor.”

I tried to explain, but I didn’t really have anything to explain. She just shrugged. Like she was already over it.

“I’m what happens after everything else matters.”

That one stuck. I said it wasn’t true. It sounded fake even while I was saying it.

She didn’t argue. That was the worst part. She just kind of accepted it.

“Good luck.”

Then she left. Didn’t wait like she usually did. The can stayed there, lined up perfectly in the crack.

I didn’t think anything of it. It felt normal. Like every other day.

If I had known, I would’ve done something different. Said something better. Literally anything.

After that, nothing really exploded. It didn’t turn into some big fight. It just… faded.

She still texted me at first. Random stuff, dumb jokes, pictures of things that only made sense to us. I’d see them and flip my phone over.

I always thought I’d answer later. I actually believed that. I just never did.

I didn’t think I was choosing anything over her. It didn’t feel like a choice. It felt temporary.

She’ll still be there when I’m done.

That’s what I kept thinking. Like it was guaranteed. Like it couldn’t change.

She had always been there. No matter what. So I didn’t think about losing her.

The first time she said something real, we were by my locker. Her voice was quieter than usual. That’s how I knew it wasn’t a joke.

She said she felt like she had to catch me between things. Like she only got whatever time was left over. I didn’t like hearing that.

“You’re being dramatic.”

I regretted it right away. You could see it on her face. Even though she tried to hide it.

“I miss you.”

That hit harder than I expected. I didn’t want to deal with it. So I didn’t.

“I’ll make it up to you after.”

After the story. After everything. After.

“After.”

She said it like it didn’t mean anything. Like she didn’t believe it. Then she just nodded.

After that, she stopped coming up to me. The texts got shorter. Then they barely came at all.

I noticed. Just not enough to change anything. That’s the part that sucks the most.

The night everything actually changed, I almost ignored it. My room was a mess, papers everywhere. My laptop was the only light on.

My phone buzzed. I saw her name. I didn’t open it.

I told myself I’d finish first. Just one more thing. Then I’d answer.

When I finally checked, there were two messages. The second one made my chest feel weird. I just stared at it.

“are we still okay?”

I read it like five times. Like it might say something different. It didn’t.

Of course we were okay. We had always been okay. That didn’t just disappear.

I started typing something quick. Then I deleted it. It felt too fake.

I told myself I’d answer later. When I could actually think about it. When I wasn’t distracted.

Then I put my phone down.

And I didn’t pick it back up.

I finished my story a few hours later. The relief hit all at once. Like I could finally breathe again.

And the first thing I thought was simple.

Now I can fix it.

Now I can call her. Explain everything. Go back to normal.

Because she’ll still be there.

She has to be.

I texted her the next morning. Said I was sorry. Said I missed her.

It delivered. I waited.

Nothing.

I told myself she was busy. Or asleep. Or just taking her time.

I didn’t call. I didn’t push. I still thought I had time.

The email came a few days later. “Congratulations.” That was the first word I saw.

I read it again. And again. Then it finally hit.

I won.

I stood up too fast. My chair scraped loud against the floor. My hands were shaking.

I grabbed my phone right away. Opened her messages. Told her I won.

Then I sent another message. Because one didn’t feel real enough.

I waited.

Nothing.

I called her. Let it ring. Listened until it stopped.

I told myself she’d call back. That it didn’t mean anything. That it was fine.

The ceremony was louder than I expected. Way brighter too. When they called my name, I walked up like I was supposed to.

I smiled. Took the award. People clapped.

It should’ve felt like everything.

Instead, I was looking for her.

I kept scanning the crowd without even thinking about it. Like she might just be there. She wasn’t.

That felt louder than anything.

After, everyone came up to me. Talking, congratulating me, asking questions. I nodded through all of it.

I barely heard anything they said. I kept checking my phone. Over and over.

When I finally got outside, it was quiet. Too quiet. It didn’t feel right after all that noise.

I opened our messages again.

“are we still okay?”

I typed slower this time. Asked where she was. Waited.

Her replies came one at a time. Slower than normal. Like she was thinking about each one.

She said she moved. Her mom got a job in another state. They left a few days ago.

It didn’t make sense at first. I just stared at the screen. I asked why she didn’t tell me.

“I tried.”

That one hurt more than anything else. Because I knew exactly what she meant. I didn’t even need to ask.

Every message I ignored. Every time I said “later.” It all lined up.

“You were busy.”

That was it.

Behind me, the doors opened. People laughing, clapping, calling my name. Like this was the best moment of my life.

I stood there holding the award. It felt heavier now. Like it actually meant something different.

I had won.

But it didn’t feel right.

The whole idea I had in my head was gone. There was no “after” anymore. Nothing to go back to.

She wasn’t waiting.

There was just this.

I sent one more message. I didn’t even know what I expected. It felt small.

No response.

The noise inside kept going. Like nothing had changed. Like everything was perfect.

I walked back in anyway.

People smiled. Said my name. Told me I deserved it.

I smiled back.

Because that’s what you do.

But it all felt off. Like I got what I wanted, just missing the part that made it matter.

The applause kept going.

And under all of it, all I could hear was how quiet everything else was.

Exactly where she should’ve been.