I sat there for a long time after the door slammed.
Not moving. Not thinking anything useful. Just… existing in that hollow, buzzing way you do after someone drops a bomb on you and leaves you in the smoke.
By the next morning, nothing felt clearer — if anything, the quiet was worse.
Normally, Celestia would've texted by now. Something dramatic, maybe a You're dead to me gif or a selfie where she looked stunning but captioned it murder eyes. Or maybe she'd call just to yell at me until I said something stupid enough for her to hang up on.
But my phone was silent.
No buzzing, no chime, no screen lighting up with her name.
The silence was worse than the shouting.
I leaned back into the couch, rubbing the back of my neck. I'd messed up somehow — that much was obvious — but the problem was, I didn't even know what the rules were this time. Was I supposed to chase after her? Give her space? Apologize for something I didn't fully understand?
