She was the type who replied in seconds.
He was the type who took hours.
Her chats were long full of thoughts, feelings, tiny moments of her day wrapped into words.
His replies were short sometimes just one word,
sometimes just one emotionless “hmm.”
Yet, every time his name lit up her screen, her heart raced like it meant something.
“Did you eat?” she texted one afternoon.
“Hm.”
“Reached home?”
“Yeah.”
“Take care, okay?”
“Ok.”
That was them.
That was always them.
Her friends didn’t understand.
“He doesn’t like you,” they said.
“He doesn’t even try.”
She would smile, a quiet, stubborn smile.
“You don’t know him like I do.”
But the truth was… maybe she didn’t.
Still, she stayed.
Because love, for her, wasn’t measured in equal effort.
It was measured in feeling.
And she felt everything.
One night, she stayed awake till 2 AM just to talk to him.
She told him about her childhood, her fears, her dreams.
She told him how she wanted a life full of meaning, full of love.
After five minutes, his reply came.
“Hmm.”
She stared at that one word for a long time.
To anyone else, it meant nothing.
To her, it meant he read it.
He stayed.
He didn’t leave.
And somehow… that was enough.
Days turned into weeks.
She noticed the pattern, but ignored it.
If she didn’t text first, there was silence.
If she disappeared, he wouldn't search.
Yet, when he replied even with just “ok” her heart softened all over again.
Funny how little things become everything when you love someone too much.
One day, she decided not to text.
She waited.
Morning passed.
Afternoon passed.
Night passed.
No message.
Her phone stayed quiet, like it finally understood the truth she had been avoiding.
The next day, she opened their chat.
So many blue bubbles from her side.
So many short, dull replies from him.
It looked like a conversation… but it wasn’t.
It was just her… trying.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
“Do you even care?”
She typed.
Then deleted.
Because deep down, she already knew the answer.
That evening, he texted.
“Hey.”
Just one word.
Just like always.
Her heart reacted the same way it always did fast, hopeful, foolish.
But this time, something inside her didn’t respond.
Not immediately.
Not like before.
She read that message again.
And for the first time, she didn’t try to find hidden meaning in it.
It was just a “hey.”
Nothing more.
No effort.
No feeling.
She put her phone aside and looked at herself.
At all the love she had been pouring into someone who only gave her silence in return.
And suddenly, she understood something she had been avoiding for so long :
Love is not supposed to feel like guessing.
Love is not supposed to feel like waiting.
Love is not supposed to feel like you’re the only one holding it together.
She picked up her phone again.
And instead of typing a long message…
Instead of asking questions…
Instead of trying one more time…
She simply replied:
“Hmm.”
For the first time, she became him.
And in that moment, she finally chose herself.
The funny thing is…
Most of us have been here once.
Loving someone who never really loved us back.
Feeling everything… in their smallest replies.
Even in silence.
Even in a single “hmm.”
And we still called it love.
But sometimes…
It’s not love.
It’s just… not knowing when to let go.
