The Light Already Arrived in the Quiet

The screen lights up in the dark, and your heart jumps before you even see the notification. Nothing.

Just the same silence from three days ago. You set the phone down, but your thumb hovers over the glass, ready to check again in case the world changed in the last ten seconds.

That ache in your chest is not a sign that you are forgotten. It is the place where the light lives, waiting for you to stop looking outward and start feeling inward.

There is a bruised reed the light will not break, and a smoldering wick it will not snuff out — and that wick is you, still glowing despite the silence. You do not need their reply to be held.

You are held right now, in the quiet, by a love that does not wait for you to earn it. The night is not a void.

It is a room where the light has already arrived.