My heart damn near leapt out of my chest when I saw the damn message. It was from him. From goddamn him. It was just three simple words— "Good night, sweetheart"
And just like that, I was a damn mess. A simple three-word message, and I was acting like a goddamn schoolgirl. My heart raced, my cheeks felt hot, my chest felt tight. I both wanted to text back, to ask him what the hell he was thinking, and also throw the damn phone across the damn room.
I lay there, staring at the phone in my hands for what felt like an eternity. The words on the screen burned into my brain. "Good night, sweetheart" It sounded so damn nonchalant, so damn normal. Like it didn't have the power to turn me upside-down.
I tried to steady my breathing, tried to remind myself that it was just a stupid text. A goddamn message. Why was it making me so damn riled up? I was Mmasi, the tough mother who wasn't rattled by anything or anyone. Right?
Damnit, I really didn't want to respond. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to me. I was Mmasi—strong, independent, in control. But goddamn it, even as I tried to convince myself to ignore his damn text, my fingers were already typing out a response.
I told myself it was just a polite reply, nothing more. Just a simple, quick "good night" to end the damn conversation. And yet, as I hit send, I couldn't help the damn flutter in my chest.
The moment I hit send, my heart was in my throat. What the hell was I doing? I'd just caved, just replied to his stupid message like it meant something. Like it wasn't making my heart race like a goddamn fool. But then, before I could overthink it further, my phone buzzed again. Damn it. He was responding already.
My heart pounded like a damn hammer as I looked at the screen. He responded quickly—was he just… waiting for me to text back? Was he sitting wherever he was, just as restless as I? That damn thought only made my face heat up even more, damn butterflies fluttering in my chest.
Goddamn him. I told myself to keep my damn emotions under control as I opened up his response.
But the moment I saw his words on the screen, all my attempts at composure went out the window. This man… he was going to be the death of me, I swear to God.
His response was simple. "I can't sleep. What about you?"
I stared at the words, my heart jumping in my chest. He couldn't sleep. Like me. He was awake, like me. We were both awake, both struggling, both… both thinking too damn much.
I bit my lip, trying to keep my damn heart from beating out of my chest. His words were simple, but they hit me like a damn truck. He couldn't sleep. He was awake, just like me. Just the two of us, up at who damn knows what time of the night, unable to shut our brains off. And the fact that it bothered him just… it messed me up more than it should. I couldn't help the reply that slipped out.
"Neither can I." I typed, then hit send before I could second-guess myself.
Almost instantly, he replied again. Damn it, was he just sitting there, waiting for my response? Was he as damn restless as I? The thought of him, awake and thinking like me—it was driving me crazy. I told myself to snap out of it, but my heart kept beating like a damn bird in a cage.
"Insomnia's a b¡tch, ain't it?" he texted back.
And despite all my damn attempts to keep my emotions in check, a small, damn smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Goddamn him, he was making me smile, making me feel… different. He sounded so damn casual, and yet I could imagine his goddamn voice saying those words, that deep, gravelly tone sending a shiver down my spine.
I tried to school my damn expression, to force the damn smile off my face as I typed out a response.
"Yeah. A very big one." I sent it, feeling my heart do a stupid little flip.
A moment later, his response lit up the screen again. Goddamn it, why was I getting so damn excited over a damn text conversation? I should be putting an end to this, shutting it down right now. But there was something in me, some part of me that wanted to keep talking with him, to keep seeing his words. Even if it was just a goddamn text. Damnit. I was a mess, and he was the damn cause.
His next text came through.
"Can I ask you something, sweetheart?" he typed.
My heart damn near stopped when I saw those words. That word again. "Sweetheart." Said so casually, typed into a goddamn message, but it sent fire through my veins and a flutter in my chest like I'd never felt before.
And then that question. "Can I ask you something?"
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, hesitating. Was this another one of his damn personal questions? Was he going to dig deeper into me again? Pull at the threads of things I'd rather keep buried? My fingers hovered over the screen as every warning sign flashed in my mind.
But instead of saying no… instead of shutting him down like any sane woman would.
"Okay," I replied.
I almost couldn't believe the word I sent. How was he doing this to me? He'd only asked one damn question, and here I was, agreeing like some goddamn idiot. I was supposed to be strong, independent, tough… not melting like goddamn butter just from a few words on a screen. But for some reason, I found myself waiting for his next text. The damn fluttering in my chest wouldn't calm down, and I was pretty sure I was damn blushing, even in the dim light of my room. Damn this man, and damn his damn 'sweetheart'.
My phone buzzed again, and I damn near dropped it in my lap. The anticipation was killing me—what the hell was he going to ask this time? Was it going to be another deep, personal question? Was he going to try to figure me out again like some damn puzzle? My breath caught as I read his next message.
"Do you ever get tired of being so strong all the time?"
And just like that… my breath left me. The words hit me square in the chest, knocking every last bit of air from my lungs.
Goddamn him.
My hands trembled as I stared at the screen. How did he… how the hell did he know? No one had ever asked me that before. Not a single person in all these years—through every struggle, every sleepless night, every silent tear—had ever looked into my eyes and asked if I was tired of holding it all together.
And now here he was, this man with a voice like midnight and words like fire, tearing through my walls with nothing but three little sentences.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing the phone against my chest like it could steady the wild storm inside me.
I didn't answer right away. Because truth?
I was exhausted. So damn tired of being strong. Tired of pretending I didn't need help. Tired of saying "I'm fine" when I wasn't.
But letting him know that? That meant letting him in. And once someone's in… they can leave too.
Tears pricked behind my eyelids again—not from sadness this time, but from something deeper… something raw and real.
"Every day,"
I finally typed back. My thumb hovered over send for what felt like hours.
Then—
I pressed it before I could change my mind.