Desire For A Reply Novels & Stories

She stared at her phone for a long while before she finally typed a message. ~I know what you desire and I can help you.~ She sent the message to a number and waited. She took a sip from her glass and tapped her phone screen still waiting and then a message beeped in. ~Who are you? ~ ~A friend.~ She texted back. ~What do you mean by my desire?~ ~Neils. You desire her and I can help you get her back on your side.~ Mandy texted and sipped her drink again.

I wanted her more than I thought I would ever want anyone. I sat down in my bedroom waiting for Maya to reply. I texted her early this morning asking if I could come over, that I wanted her. But she hasn't replied, for fuck sake, I texted her since 7am and it's already 9am and she hasn't replied.

Something that could heal all the wreckage. My fingers move on autopilot, and I type a quick reply. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.” It feels hollow, like the words don’t even belong to me. He replies almost instantly, as if he’s been waiting. “Take your time. I’ll wait.”

I type rapidly and hit send. He doesn't take long to reply, almost as though he was waiting for me to send it. The text is simple. I will do whatever you want, my love.

But my heart wasn’t as calm as my mind tried to be. By the afternoon, I finally got a reply. Just one message showed up. “Busy. Talk later.” That was it. I stared at the message for a long time. That should have been enough. At least he replied. At least he said something. But it didn’t feel like enough. It felt distant. Cold. Not like him. Or maybe… I had just gotten used to something else. Something softer. Something closer. I typed a reply. Then i erased it back Then, i typed again.

She missed his presence alot. 'Are you on your way home?' Her finger hovered around the send button. No harm could come out of it right? Message sent! Immediately, he replied. He fucking replied! She smiled to herself, She almost thought he wouldn't reply her. 'Why yes, I am on my way home, Shouldn't you be asleep?' He replied. 'I couldn't sleep,' She simply texted. 'You missed me?' He typed back wanting to know her reply. She felt her heart beat faster than it was supposed to. What should she reply? 'Of course I miss you or....no I didn't.'

"I'm actually calling to remind you that I am still waiting for your response. I am still hoping to get a positive reply. I would be honored if I got a yes. please don't even think of saying no. your positive reply means a lot to me" "Why are you disturbing me over this? You just came to my house yesterday and we talked about it and I told you that whenever I finish thinking about it I will give you a reply, either positive or negative. you shouldn't be pestering me around, disturbing me with phone calls. because of this I don't know how serious it is and I'm beginning to suspect that this is a trap" "It is not a trap, please don't misquote me. it's just that I am eager to have a woman"

Be there. No reply. But the little "seen" receipt sat mockingly below the message. I stared at it for a long second, my thumb hovering over the screen. Not because I was expecting a reply. But because a part of me still wished it didn’t have to be like this. I stared at it for a long second, my thumb hovering just above the screen, almost like I could get a different outcome to appear if I just stared hard enough. But nothing changed. He didn’t reply.

She was overjoyed because she had been waiting for his response for such a long time. "Yes..." she hooted with joy, standing up from the chair. She opened the message with a huge smile on her face, sitting back on the chair. Cole: Hey, Miss Admirer. She instantly replied to him. Reyna: Am I dreaming that you messaged me? Cole: Just want to ask you why you message me every day when I don't even see your message. "Nice question!" She murmured while typing the reply. Reyna: Because I was hoping for a response from you someday. I never give up, and look, my hope won in the end. You finally messaged me, yippie!

And sometimes, you let the people you love sit with the questions until they’re brave enough to answer them. But I can feel it. The edges of her certainty starting to fray. The slow tug back toward the thing she thinks she shouldn’t want. I argue with myself for quite some time before I send the message typed on my screen. You deserve fireworks. No reply. But she hearts the message. Which means she heard me. And maybe, just maybe, she’s thinking about lighting the match.