Chapter Three

Amaya’s thumb hovered over her screen.

He was typing.

Her heart raced. She watched the three grey dots blink and blink, taunting her with the promise of a reply. A part of her regretted sending that photo, but another part… the one that throbbed with anticipation and anxiety… wanted to know what he’d say. What he thought. If he liked it.

Still typing.

She refreshed the chat.

Still typing.

Then suddenly—

Offline.

The screen dimmed for a second before she tapped it again, the brightness returning to mock her silence.

“What the hell…” she whispered.

She sat up in bed, phone clutched tight in her hand. Her room was dark, save for the dim yellow glow from the bedside lamp. Her mother was asleep down the hall, the house silent except for the low hum of the ceiling fan.

She stared at the chat screen. No new messages.

Amaya: Hey?

Amaya: You went offline…

Amaya: Did I do something wrong?

No reply.

She tossed her phone beside her on the bed, sat there for a moment, staring at the wall. Her throat felt tight, and her chest ached in a way that caught her off guard.

It wasn’t just about the picture.

It was about him. About how long they’d been talking—months of teasing, of heart-thudding chats in the middle of the night, of feeling seen and wanted. Even though she didn’t know his real name, there was something about him that felt familiar, like she’d known him longer than she should. He was confident, bold, sexy. The things he said to her made her feel powerful… until now.

Now she just felt stupid.

Amaya: If the picture upset you, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything…

No reply.

She bit her lip, a tear slipping out before she could stop it. She wiped it away quickly, scolding herself.

“Why are you crying, Amaya? Over a guy who won’t even show you his face?”

But her chest felt heavy. She curled up into her pillow, hugging it tightly, willing sleep to come, but it didn’t. She just lay there, blinking in the dark.

Still no reply.

By morning, Amaya hadn’t slept much. Her eyes burned, and her head felt foggy. She took her time getting ready for school, ignoring Zara’s early “I’m outside!” text. She didn’t care. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk or even gossip. Especially not from the girl who pressured her into taking that stupid photo.

By the time she slid into the passenger seat of Zara’s small car, her mood was sour.

“You look like death,” Zara laughed. “What happened? You couldn’t sleep from excitement, abi?”

Amaya shot her a glare. “Don’t even start.”

Zara paused, blinking. “Wait… what happened?”

Amaya didn’t answer. She just pulled out her phone, opened the chat, and shoved it into Zara’s face.

“Still no reply. He stopped typing. He went offline. Just like that.”

Zara leaned back slowly, the playfulness draining from her face. “Shit…”

“Yeah. ‘Shit.’ That’s all you have to say?” Amaya’s voice cracked with frustration.

“I mean… maybe his battery died or—”

“Zara, it’s been hours. He’s been online on his status. He’s just ignoring me.” Her voice dropped. “I feel like a hoe.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I feel disgusting. Maybe he saw the picture and thought I was easy or desperate.”

Zara looked genuinely apologetic now. “Babe, no. That’s not it. I swear. He liked you—like, obsessed. He always replied fast. You guys had a thing going.”

Amaya scoffed. “Apparently not enough to keep talking after I sent a stupid photo and yes with my face in it.”

Zara was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he just got scared. Maybe it got real for him too, and he didn’t know how to react.”

“I’ve been checking my phone every damn second.” She turned the screen toward herself again, opening the chat once more. Still no reply. “It’s like I can’t breathe. I keep waiting for the notification that never comes.”

The silence in the car grew heavy.

“Do you… want to text him again?” Zara offered carefully.

Amaya hesitated, then opened the keyboard again.

Amaya: Please talk to me… I’m losing my mind here

Amaya: Did I mess up? Just say something. Anything.

Amaya: I didn’t mean to push things if that’s what I did…

Nothing.

Zara placed a hand gently on Amaya’s thigh. “I’m really sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“You think?” Amaya shot back bitterly. Then she sighed. “Sorry. I’m just… I thought we were something.”

Zara nodded. “He’ll come around. He has to. You two were intense. And that kind of connection doesn’t just vanish.”

Amaya hoped she was right.

But the silence on her phone said otherwise.