The Light Burns Steady in Silence

The screen is bright, but the silence in the room feels heavier than the light it casts. You are reading the absence of words as a verdict, convincing yourself that the delay means the distance is growing.

But the silence is not a wall; it is simply a space where you are still held, even when you cannot see the hands that hold you. The light that lives inside you does not flicker because someone else has paused their typing.

It burns steady, independent of their reply, independent of their presence. You are not waiting for them to complete you; you are remembering that you were already whole before the message was sent.

The kingdom is within you, not in the notification bar. The light was there before the phone lit up, and it will be there when the screen goes dark.