Chapter 138: Chapter 138

Emily's POV

There should be rules for unknown numbers. Not official rules. Just common courtesy. Like, if you are about to alter somebody’s emotional stability, at least introduce yourself properly. I was sitting on a campus bench outside the department building when my phone buzzed. It was a cold afternoon with clouds. Students were crossing the quad. I held a cup of coffee in my hand. Internship updates open on my laptop. Today felt like a good day, which should've been suspicious. Life had a habit lately of waiting until things felt stable before introducing complications. My phone lit up. It was an Unknown number. I almost ignored it. Then it buzzed again.

The message preview popped up.

Unknown: Hi. You don’t know me.

I opened it. Big mistake.

Unknown: Hi. You don’t know me. I used to date Noah.

I stared at that message. My body did something embarrassing. Not panic. Not exactly. More attention. Like suddenly every sound around me got quieter. I looked at the message. Then immediately locked my phone. No. Absolutely not. That was weird. That was inappropriate. That was movie behavior. I looked around, there were students, trees, campus and reality.

I unlocked my phone again and read it. It was still there. Another message appeared.

Unknown: Before you block me. I think you deserve context.

I stared. My stomach dropped slightly. Context. What an evil word. Because context implied missing information. And human beings were unfortunately vulnerable to missing information. I looked at the screen and locked it again.I opened my laptop and closed my laptop. I looked at the phone. I should delete it. Normal people delete it. Healthy people delete it. Secure people delete it. I wasn’t insecure. That was the annoying part. I wasn’t thinking, does he still love her? I wasn't thinking, am I competing? That wasn't it. What bothered me was the word. Context. Because suddenly, my brain did something rude. What parts existed before me? I knew Noah. But I knew Noah now. Not twenty-year-old Noah. Not heartbreak Noah. Not self-destruction Noah. Not before.

I stared, then texted back.

Me: Context for what?

There was an immediate response.

Unknown: Five minutes. Coffee shop near campus. Then I disappear.

I stared. That sounded calm. That bothered me more. People with bad intentions usually tried harder. This felt…certain. I stared and thought about it. I typed a reply.

Me: Thirty minutes.

Unknown: That’s fair.

I regretted everything immediately.

Walking there felt ridiculous. I almost turned around three times. Not because I was afraid. Because I felt stupid. Who does this? I did not tell Noah. But not because I was hiding. Because I didn’t know what this was yet. And I didn’t want to turn curiosity into importance. The coffee shop was small and warm. There were mostly students.

I stepped inside and looked around. And immediately knew. Not because she looked dramatic. She looked normal. That somehow made it worse. She sat near the window with a coffee, a book and a dark sweater. No performance. She looked up, saw me and stood up. She smiled politely. Not warmly. Not coldly. Just normal.

I walked over to her. She looked nervous suddenly. Good. That is human. She nodded once. “Emily?” I nodded. She sat down. I sat down across from her. She looked at her coffee. “Thanks for coming.”

I looked at her. “This is unusual.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah. I know.”

She didn’t defend herself. I folded my hands. “What context?”

She looked out the window in thought. Then smiled slightly. Not happy. More remembering. “I wanted to see if he looked different.” My chest tightened unexpectedly. I stared. She looked back. Then smiled once. “He does.” I said nothing. She looked down. “I’m not here to warn you. I’m not here to ruin something. And I definitely don’t want him back.” Then why...She looked at me. And answered the question I didn't ask. “People did weird things after we broke up. They made him the villain.” She looked at her coffee. “And I don’t think that was fair.” I frowned. She looked at me. “He loved me. He just didn’t know how to stay.”

Everything in me went quiet. Not because of the words. Because of how calmly she said them. Not angry. Not wounded. Just true. I looked at her. She noticed. Then smiled sadly. “That’s confusing, isn’t it?” I swallowed, but didn’t answer. She looked away. “People think heartbreak always means somebody didn’t care.” Her eyes stayed on the window. “Sometimes they care and still choose themselves.”

That hit somewhere unpleasant. Because suddenly, my chest tightened. Hard. And annoyingly, not because I thought she was talking about him. Because I understood the fear. That fear. That quiet one. The one that says, "What if love isn't enough to make people stay?"

She looked at me. “Do you know what he used to do?”

I blinked. She smiled slightly. “When things got hard. He would decide alone. Protect people from conversations.”

My chest tightened. Because that sounded familiar. Not current Noah. But familiar. She looked at me. “He would leave emotionally before leaving physically.” I looked down. She noticed. “I’m not saying he still does.” She looked at me and smiled. “That’s why I wanted to meet.” I frowned. She continued to look at me. “He looks different.”

I stared. She shrugged. Then looked embarrassed. “He never looked at me like he expected me to stay.” She smiled. Then looked at me. “But he looks at you like he already believes you will.” My chest hurt unexpectedly. She noticed. Then smiled slightly. “That’s a big difference.”

I stared. “Why tell me this?”

She thought for a while. Then shrugged. “Because people change.” She smiled. “And I think somebody should tell you that if you’re waiting for proof he’ll leave…” Her eyes stayed steady. “You might miss the fact he’s trying to stay.”

The room went quiet. My throat tightened immediately. She stood up, picked up her coffee, then looked at me. “For what it’s worth. I think he’s happier now.” Then she smiled and left.

I sat there. Hands around untouched coffee. Heart doing something inconvenient. Because she didn’t give me fear. She gave me something worse. Perspective. And walking home, I realized my deepest fear wasn’t that Noah would stop loving me. It was that people only stayed while life was easy. But somewhere between internship applications and injury scares and futures and uncertainty, we hadn’t had easy. And he stayed. That realization followed me all the way home. And for the first time, the question wasn’t, "What if people leave?" It was, "What if I stopped waiting for proof that they will?"