I told myself, she was probably just tired, or caught up in something... or sleeping in, but even those lies sounded like fragile glass impaling my head. 

I stared at our chats more times than I'd like to admit. I checked the time, her instagram, even my chest for that familiar warmth, the one that comes just knowing she's out there, living her day, maybe even thinking of me. 

But there was nothing.

By noon, I stopped pretending. I stepped out of the cold shower after the gym, my fingers hovered over the keyboard. I typed, "Hey baby? are you okay?" 

Then deleted it. I typed it again, adding a pink heart, then deleted the heart, then the whole thing.

And then, just as I was about to give in and find a way to call her,

Her name lit up my screen

A single message. 

"Hey baby, I'm so sorry I didn't reply earlier... I was rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep at all, I felt dizzy but I ignored it at first, until it got worse, I thought I was going to pass out. They had to give me shots. I couldn't keep anything down. It was really bad sweetheart, I hated it all."

I don't know how to explain the sound my heart made reading those very words come out of her. It wasn't a crack, not even a shatter, it was more like the silence taking over every part of me.

I read her message repeatedly, like it might change, like if I stared at it long enough, I could rewrite her night, pull her out of that hospital bed and into something softer. 

She didn't deserve this. I felt... useless...

All night, she was in pain, and I was asleep, dreaming of her, probably, while she was under blinding lights, sterile air and needles in her skin.

I should've known. I should've felt something. That ridiculous guts and intuition people talk about, the, "I'll know when something's wrong." But I didn't. I didn't feel anything.

Now she's okay... well, not okay, but alive, on her couch, on meds. She was tired, so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open. "I'm gonna sleep now," she wrote. "Haven't slept all night."

I told her I'd be here. Whenever she woke up. And I meant it.

The days followed were quiet, not the romantic kind, not the, "Are you staring at the moon the same time as me?", not the playlist making, falling in love all over again kind, just quiet.

She slept a lot, she really needed it, and when she wasn't sleeping, she was really weak.

Sometimes, she'd send a sleepy, "Hey baby..." 

I told myself, this was what love looked like too. The waiting, the worrying, the distance you sit in with someone, even if they don't notice you there.

So I stayed up, all night sometimes, with my phone fully charged, lights dimmed out, watching the screen, just incase she texted.

She slept through most of these upcoming days. I kept track, even though I told myself I wouldn't, but I care too much for her. There were small gaps where we'd talk for a bit, then she'd go back to sleep so she can fully recover.

I didn't expect her to talk, I didnt expect her to entertain me. I just missed her.

I kept sending her things, little voice notes, encouraging messages, I even sent her another playlist she can listen to while she sleeps. I named it, "Our Quiet Little Universe."

I kept hoping, hoping that she would feel better, she has an entire summer ahead of her, she deserves to enjoy it, after everything she's been through.

Although... I'd be lying if I said it didn't get hard. The kind of hard you don't admit out loud. Where you stare at your own reflection and wonder if love is meant to feel this absent. Nothing and no one is to be blamed, for distance on its own is already our biggest disadvantage.

I told myself, over and over, "This isn't about you. It's not about you missing her. It's about her healing, her happiness."

My screen lit up out of nowhere at a random evening, her name, it came up. I didn't know if I should open it, but I did. Her message was soft, almost whispered through an afterglow.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know how to say this, but I need a break, just for a little while... Milo, I'm exhausted, not just physically, but... emotionally too. I need time to breathe, to heal inside, I hope you understand."

My breath caught, not because I was angry. Not because I felt betrayed, but because I understood, and it broke me.

"Baby... I love you." I softly said, "I want you to heal in whatever way you need. I'll be here when you're ready, always."

The silence came again, deeper this time. I understood why she felt so exhausted emotionally too. She's been through so much in such a period of time. Sometimes, space is what heals her.

-I wish I knew that better- 

I stared at the dark screen, I felt the heavy weight of a love that's been endlessly stretched these past few weeks... I hope it gets better.