Unsent Messages 소설 & 이야기

Suzie felt as if she really was going mad… She immediately covered her head with one hand while she used her other to tap on the ‘return’ button. Her phone screen soon displayed her homepage… At this moment, Suzie saw that there were over 9,999 unread messages in her inbox… She tapped on the notification panel to check it out. These were all private messages. Each of the messages contained vile criticism. “Suzie Cobold, go to hell.” “Suzie Cobold, hurry up and die already.” “Suzie Cobold, a b*tch like you don’t deserve to live.” “Suze Cobold, you’re born a sl*t.”

This was serious. She swiped out of Textagram first without a second thought and landed in Whatchat, thumbing her way to the class group chat, Westbrook High School’26. The notification badge on it read 890 unread messages, and by the time she tapped in, it had ticked up to 992.

I spend a few minutes typing away at the screen before eventually restoring my device to its full capacity. Hundreds of notifications flood my screen, showcasing all the things I had missed while I was disconnected. I then unlock my phone before navigating my way to the messaging app, seeing all the texts that were left unread this past week. As I scroll through my unread messages, excitement begins to fill my veins as I read the preview message attached to Jovana's contact. Jovanababy👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩: I'm back bitchhh!!

A single unread message. And how come I never saw these messages? Then, without reading it, I deleted it. KIAN’S STUDY ROOM Kian sat in his office, staring at his phone. The message he had sent was still marked as unread. He should have expected that. His grip tightened around the device before he finally set it down, exhaling slowly. He had made his choice. Hadn’t he? A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He straightened. “Come in.”

I looked at the time on my phone, it was only twenty minutes gone. Maybe she wasn't online currently. I thought. Let me wait for a while. I went through my laptop to take my mind off the message. I feel it was time for me to go those my unread messages. I started with scrolling through them to weigh them in order of importance. My eyes caught a familiar name- Javier Castelleno. He sent a message since last month. Woah, I really should be checking my messages frequently. I tapped on it.

I leaned on the door and stared at the screen of my phone. I unlocked it and bit my lower lip the moment I saw how many unread messages I have from him. I pursed my lips and stared at his registered number on my phone. E. Saavedra (97 unread messages) I sighed. "Why do you have to be this persistent?" I mumbled under my breath. I clicked his name. I was surprised to see that almost all of his messages are voice mails. Only few are typed and that includes his message when I went here.

CHASE I had sent her forty-two messages in five days. I knew the exact number because every time I unlocked my phone—between drills, between shifts, between the endless team video sessions where Coach Reynolds’s voice dissolved into static—the unread count sat in my notifications like a clinical diagnosis of how far gone I was. *Delivered.* *Delivered.* *Delivered.* Not a single *Read*. She had turned the receipts off. Or muted the thread. Or she was sitting in Eastlake, watching my name light up her screen, and choosing—with that terrifying, precise control of hers—to let me drown in the silence.

Knowing Denise’s temperamental nature, he knew she would throw another fit later if he did not personally add her back to the group chat. So, he started a new one and selected her contact to add her to the group chat. A moment later, a system notification popped up. [You cannot add an unsaved number to a group.] He stared blankly at the notification. He could read the words, but he could not understand what it meant. Unsaved number? Was Denise’s number unsaved? He exited and opened Denise’s chat box and texted her. [Denise, did you get to school yet?] He hit send, but a red exclamation mark appeared right away.

That is… a ridiculous number of requests. I instinctively shake my head before immediately regretting it. Sharp pain explodes through my skull, making me suck in a breath. “Yeah… don’t do that again,” I mutter to myself. Once the pounding settles enough for me to focus, I lean back and study the screen. At the top of the page, the name Ghost stares back at me in large black letters. Underneath it… Hundreds of unread messages. Some are marked Urgent. Others have standard priority. A few are encrypted so heavily I can’t even see the preview without opening them. Business has definitely not slowed down while I’ve been gone.

Read this when you see it. I sent it. I watched the screen. One tick. The message had sent from my end. The second tick did not appear. Not delivered. I stopped walking briefly and looked at the screen. The single grey tick sat there, static, the universal signal of a message that had left one phone and not reached another. Her phone was off, or out of battery, or in a bag on silent in a lecture hall, or she had simply not looked at it. She had not seen it.