He Said He Would Wait

Monday came quietly.

The kind of morning that pretends everything is normal.

At 7:23 AM, I found myself replying to his message while sitting on the bus. I was talking to my aunt when his text appeared on my screen.

Good morning, busy bee. I sent.

It felt harmless enough to answer.

When I finally replied, his response came almost immediately.

I miss you.

I stared at the screen for a moment.

We had only known each other for days. The words felt too large for the space we had occupied so far. Too quick. Too certain.

So I did what I had already learned to do.

I softened the moment.

Quite chilly out here, but it’s nice, I love it, I replied.

Just arrived at work. Hope you had a good night’s sleep.

He didn’t let the moment pass.

I love you, too.

I stopped walking.

It wasn’t dramatic. No one around me noticed. But internally, something paused — the way a thought pauses when it doesn’t quite know where to go.

He said it so casually that it almost sounded like a continuation of something we had never actually started.

I didn’t question it.

Instead, I told him what I was doing and sent him my reply when I was heading home.

I’m done for the day and will be walking to the library.

“Which library?” he asked.

The one downtown.

He replied that he wished he could join me. Then he asked what I planned to do there.

Just waiting for my bus, I said.

“I see,” he answered. “I thought you were going to visit the library.”

That made me smile a little.

I actually miss the library, I admitted. I keep thinking about going again. I just can’t seem to find the time that fits my schedule.

Then I said the thing that had been sitting quietly in me for a while.

I’m stuck again.

He didn’t hesitate.

You can find time, he said. Never say anything negative about yourself.

That sentence landed heavier than I expected. So I answered honestly.

I’ll think about it. My calendar is full. But it’s true… I feel stuck sometimes. Even though there are beautiful things around me that make me feel grateful.

He replied with something that stayed with me longer than the rest of the conversation.

The calendar has twelve months and three hundred sixty-five days. There’s plenty of time.

Then he added:

And you’re not stuck.

You just need courage to live the life you need.

There was a pause before the last message arrived.

I’ll be here waiting.

One day you’ll call me and ask me to come get you out of there.

I read that line more than once, maybe four times.

Not because it was romantic.

Because it sounded like a possibility.

And possibilities can be more dangerous than promises.