The Love That Does Not Wait

The screen lights up your face in the dark, a small rectangle of hope that hasn't changed in three days. You tell yourself it's just one last check, but your thumb knows the rhythm of waiting too well.

The silence from the other side feels heavy, like a door that won't open no matter how many times you knock. But there is a love that does not keep you waiting in the hallway of your own anxiety.

It does not require your permission to be near you. It has already entered the room where you are sitting alone.

You are held by something that never left, even while you were staring at the glass. The answer you need isn't in that empty message thread.

It's in the quiet realization that you are already known, already held, already enough without the reply.