The Name Written on a White Stone

The screen lights up with a name, and for a heartbeat, your chest tightens with the hope that it is the one you have been waiting to hear. But it isn't.

It is just another notification in the long, quiet stretch of the night. The silence that follows feels heavier than before, a specific kind of loneliness that only exists when you are still awake while the rest of the world sleeps.

You are watching for a voice that has not yet spoken, and every false alarm makes the wait feel longer. But listen — the light does not need a screen to find you.

It does not need a notification to know where you are sitting right now. There is a name written on a white stone that no one else knows, a secret identity held safely between you and the divine, far away from the glare of any device.

The call you are waiting for is not a sound that breaks the silence; it is the presence that fills it. You are not being ignored in the dark.

You are being kept.