CHAPTER ONE — Last Seen, No Reply
The night felt heavier than usual.
Not because of the heat.
Not because of the noisy generator hum far outside.
But because of a single WhatsApp message that didn't get a reply.
Lara lay on her hostel bed like someone carrying a heartbreak she didn't fully understand yet. The ceiling fan spun lazily above her, pushing warm air around the room. Her roommates slept soundly, wrapped in dreams that didn't involve emotional torture from boys who replied "seen" with their entire chest.
Her phone was the only source of light, glowing softly over her face.
2:17 AM.
That stupid time again.
She opened WhatsApp for the hundredth time, even though she already knew—
Nothing.
No reply.
No voice note.
No emoji.
Not even an accidental typing bubble.
Just that cold green line:
> Last seen today at 1:42 AM
Her heart squeezed painfully.
So he was awake.
Scrolling.
Chatting.
Breathing.
Living.
Doing everything except replying her.
Lara bit her bottom lip—hard.
Because the truth stung deeper each time she admitted it:
She cared too much.
He cared just enough to keep her hoping.
She clicked the voice note she had sent him earlier. Her own voice filled her ears:
Gentle.
Sweet.
Embarrassingly eager.
She sounded like someone trying too hard not to sound like someone trying too hard.
Her chest tightened in shame.
She deleted the voice note so fast her thumb shook.
The room felt colder suddenly, or maybe it was the realization hitting her again:
Why am I the one always waiting? Always caring? Always checking who likes me or ignores me? Why does replies from some people feel like validation?
A notification popped up.
Her breath caught.
Her heart actually jumped—like a fool.
But it wasn't Ethan.
It was Maya.
> Maya: This boy just disgraced me o 😭😭😭 wake up abeg
Lara let out a tiny, broken laugh. The kind people laugh when they're hurting but pretending they're fine.
She tossed her phone aside—but not far. Her eyes kept drifting back to it like a bad habit she couldn't quit.
She lay on her back and whispered into the darkness,
"I'm tired."
Her voice cracked.
Not tired from the day.
Tired from feeling invisible to the one person she wanted to see her.
Another tear rolled down.
Then another.
Not loud tears.
Not dramatic sobbing.
Just those quiet, painful ones that happen when the truth settles in your chest too heavily.
Ethan didn't treat her like a priority.
Because she acted like he was a prize.
Lara wiped her face and sat up slowly.
Something changed in her expression—not anger, not sadness… something sharper.
Resolve.
A kind of quiet strength only heartbreak at 2:17 AM can create.
Tomorrow…
She wouldn't rush to her phone.
She wouldn't type long messages.
She wouldn't overthink every full stop.
Tomorrow… she would match energies.
Even if it killed her pride in the process.
She took her phone, placed it at the far edge of the table.
A small distance physically.
A huge one emotionally.
Tonight, she wasn't waiting for Ethan's message.
She wasn't refreshing his chat.
She wasn't replaying her voice note again and again.
Tonight…
she slept with her heart bruised, but her mind waking up.
Tomorrow, she would start choosing herself.
And that was the first step of the girl Ethan wasn't ready for.