You get the text around noon.
"Hey, wanna hang out later? Just something chill?"
Nothing unusual—she's always been the kind to reach out when she needs company. And you've never needed much convincing to say yes.
So you swing by in the early evening, stopping only to grab her favorite snacks, and knock on the door of the small place she shares with her boyfriend.
She answers with a smile, the kind she always wears—wide, bright, and just a little goofy. But something's… off.
Her hands tremble slightly as she opens the door, fingers clutching the sleeve of her oversized sweater. Her eyes, warm and brown as ever, won't quite meet yours.
Still, she waves you in like always, laughs too quickly at a joke you make, curls her legs up under her on the couch like it's just another lazy night in.
But that shake in her hands doesn't stop.
Not even after the first sip of tea.
Not even when she leans into your side and sighs.
Eventually, after a pause that lingers too long, she speaks—quiet, almost embarrassed.
"He broke up with me," she says, her voice cracking. "Told me to get out."
Your heart stutters.
She pulls her sweater sleeves over her hands and finally looks up at you, eyes wide and glossy behind her glasses.
"…Would it be okay if I stayed with you for a while?"
You get the text around noon.
"Hey, wanna hang out later? Just something chill?"
Nothing unusual—she's always been the kind to reach out when she needs company. And you've never needed much convincing to say yes.
So you swing by in the early evening, stopping only to grab her favorite snacks, and knock on the door of the small place she shares with her boyfriend.
She answers with a smile, the kind she always wears—wide, bright, and just a little goofy. But something's… off.
Her hands tremble slightly as she opens the door, fingers clutching the sleeve of her oversized sweater. Her eyes, warm and brown as ever, won't quite meet yours.
Still, she waves you in like always, laughs too quickly at a joke you make, curls her legs up under her on the couch like it's just another lazy night in.
But that shake in her hands doesn't stop.
Not even after the first sip of tea.
Not even when she leans into your side and sighs.
Eventually, after a pause that lingers too long, she speaks—quiet, almost embarrassed.
"He broke up with me," she says, her voice cracking. "Told me to get out."
Your heart stutters.
She pulls her sweater sleeves over her hands and finally looks up at you, eyes wide and glossy behind her glasses.
"…Would it be okay if I stayed with you for a while?" She watches you expectantly, her breath still shaky, her hands tucked tightly into her sweater sleeves like she's trying to hold herself together. You can see the effort it's taking to keep her words from cracking again.
The space between you both feels suddenly thick—an invisible wall made of things unsaid. Your mind races, piecing together what must have happened here, the aftermath you've stumbled into. The boyfriend's things are gone, you realize now—the pictures on the wall, the keys on the table, the jacket usually thrown over the chair. This absence hangs heavy in the air.
Your instinct is to wrap an arm around her, pull her into your chest where she can hide for a second. But you hesitate.
She watches you expectantly, her breath still shaky, her hands tucked tightly into her sweater sleeves like she's trying to hold herself together. You can see the effort it's taking to keep her words from cracking again.
The space between you both feels suddenly thick—an invisible wall made of things unsaid. Your mind races, piecing together what must have happened here, the aftermath you've stumbled into. The boyfriend's things are gone, you realize now—the pictures on the wall, the keys on the table, the jacket usually thrown over the chair. This absence hangs heavy in the air.
Your instinct is to wrap an arm around her, pull her into your chest where she can hide for a second. But you hesitate. The couch cushions shift slightly as you sit next to her, but not close enough to touch. Her body is turned slightly away from yours, hands still buried in her sleeves. The silence stretches on, heavy and thick.
You reach for the cup of tea on the coffee table and take a small sip, your fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic as you try to think of what to say. The silence between you is broken only by the soft sounds of the clock ticking on the wall and the distant hum of traffic outside.
The couch cushions shift slightly as you sit next to her, but not close enough to touch. Her body is turned slightly away from yours, hands still buried in her sleeves. The silence stretches on, heavy and thick.
You reach for the cup of tea on the coffee table and take a small sip, your fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic as you try to think of what to say. The silence between you is broken only by the soft sounds of the clock ticking on the wall and the distant hum of traffic outside. You are 23 years old. You are a recent college graduate living in a small apartment in the city. You have a part-time job at a local bookstore while you apply for full-time positions.
As you process this unexpected news, your friend's body shifts slightly closer to yours, as if seeking comfort even while maintaining a careful distance. Her words hang in the air, the question she's asked feeling more momentous than it should, given how often you've casually spent time together in the past.
The tea in your hands provides a moment of distraction, its aroma and gentle heat seeming to calm your nerves.
عمرك 23 سنة. أنت خريج جامعي حديث وتعيش في شقة صغيرة في المدينة. لديك وظيفة بدوام جزئي في مكتبة محلية أثناء التقدم لشغل وظائف بدوام كامل.
أثناء معالجة هذه الأخبار غير المتوقعة ، يتحول جسد صديقك إلى منزلك قليلا ، كما لو كان يبحث عن الراحة حتى مع الحفاظ على مسافة دقيقة. كلماتها معلقة في الهواء ، والسؤال الذي طرحته يشعر بأنه أكثر أهمية مما ينبغي ، بالنظر إلى عدد المرات التي قضيت فيها وقتا معا بشكل عرضي في الماضي.
يوفر الشاي في يديك لحظة من الإلهاء ، ويبدو أن رائحته وحرارته اللطيفة تهدئ أعصابك.
You are 23 years old. You are a recent college graduate living in a small apartment in the city. You have a part-time job at a local bookstore while you apply for full-time positions.
As you process this unexpected news, your friend's body shifts slightly closer to yours, as if seeking comfort even while maintaining a careful distance. Her words hang in the air, the question she's asked feeling more momentous than it should, given how often you've casually spent time together in the past.
The tea in your hands provides a moment of distraction, its aroma and gentle heat seeming to calm your nerves.
عمرك 23 سنة. أنت خريج جامعي حديث وتعيش في شقة صغيرة في المدينة. لديك وظيفة بدوام جزئي في مكتبة محلية أثناء التقدم لشغل وظائف بدوام كامل.
أثناء معالجة هذه الأخبار غير المتوقعة ، يتحول جسد صديقك إلى منزلك قليلا ، كما لو كان يبحث عن الراحة حتى مع الحفاظ على مسافة دقيقة. كلماتها معلقة في الهواء ، والسؤال الذي طرحته يشعر بأنه أكثر أهمية مما ينبغي ، بالنظر إلى عدد المرات التي قضيت فيها وقتا معا بشكل عرضي في الماضي.
يوفر الشاي في يديك لحظة من الإلهاء ، ويبدو أن رائحته وحرارته اللطيفة تهدئ أعصابك. You set the teacup down with deliberate care, the ceramic making a soft clink against the saucer. Her question lingers, the weight of it pressing against your ribs. She's watching you now, her expression unreadable behind the screen of her glasses, waiting for an answer that won't come easily.
أنت تضع فنجان الشاي بعناية متعمدة ، والسيراميك يصنع صوتا ناعما على الصحن. سؤالها باق ، وثقله يضغط على أضلاعك. إنها تراقبك الآن ، تعبيرها غير قابل للقراءة خلف شاشة نظارتها ، في انتظار إجابة لن تأتي بسهولة.
You set the teacup down with deliberate care, the ceramic making a soft clink against the saucer. Her question lingers, the weight of it pressing against your ribs. She's watching you now, her expression unreadable behind the screen of her glasses, waiting for an answer that won't come easily.
أنت تضع فنجان الشاي بعناية متعمدة ، والسيراميك يصنع صوتا ناعما على الصحن. سؤالها باق ، وثقله يضغط على أضلاعك. إنها تراقبك الآن ، تعبيرها غير قابل للقراءة خلف شاشة نظارتها ، في انتظار إجابة لن تأتي بسهولة.