The door closed.
And this time—
it didn't feel like something had been left behind.
It felt like something had left with him.
I stood there longer than I should have, staring at the empty space, as if it might explain itself if I just waited.
It didn't.
The silence returned—
sharper now. Colder.
A breath slipped out of me, one I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I turned away, reaching for my phone on the table.
Nothing.
No message.
No "I got there."
Nothing at all.
Of course.
I told myself not to expect anything.
I had already decided I wouldn't.
I am something… not nothing.
I repeated it until it sounded like truth.
---
A week passed.
We didn't meet.
We worked in the same hospital, walked the same corridors—but different shifts, different timings.
Close enough to exist in the same world.
Far enough to never meet.
Days went by.
No messages.
No calls.
No texts.
Nothing.
---
One day, after finishing my shift, I saw him.
He was laughing.
Talking casually with his colleagues, like everything was normal.
Like nothing had ever happened.
I stood there for a moment, watching.
It should have comforted me.
At least he was doing okay.
And yet…
I couldn't stop thinking about that moment—
when he said, "You are not nothing."
When he stood up for me.
If I meant something then…
why not now?
Why did I become nothing again?
---
How can he act like nothing happened?
I asked myself.
But strangely—
I didn't feel anger.
I felt sorrow.
Not for him.
For myself.
---
It's okay, I told myself.
At least he's doing well.
That should be enough.
---
Days passed.
And slowly, my life became what it was before.
Without him.
No—
My normal life.
Yes…
I accepted it.
He must have had his reasons.
And whatever they were…
they must have been worth it.