CHAPTER 2- The distance
Three days later, Amara noticed another change.
Daniel used to call her randomly.
Not necessarily for anything important.
Sometimes he called just to ask what she was doing.
Sometimes he called because he had seen something funny.
Once, he had called her simply because he missed her voice.
She remembered that call clearly.
“You called me just to say hello?” she’d asked.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.”
“Good. Then stay on the phone.”
She had laughed for almost five minutes.
Now, things were different.
Their conversations had become short.
Morning texts.
Occasional check-ins.
A call at night if neither of them was too tired.
Nothing was obviously wrong.
That was what made it worse.
There was no big fight.
No betrayal.
No reason she could point to and say, This is where everything changed.
It was just little things.
And little things were sometimes the hardest to explain.
That Saturday, Amara sent Daniel a picture of the food she had made.
Look what I made 😂
She waited.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty.
Forty-five.
Finally:
Looks good.
She stared at the message.
“Looks good?”
She almost laughed.
She typed:
That’s all? 😂
She deleted it.
She typed:
You’re acting weird lately.
Deleted that too.
Instead, she sent:
Thanks 😂
Daniel saw the message while he was sitting at his desk.
He smiled.
He typed:
You know I love your cooking.
Then he stopped.
He almost told her about work.
About how tired he was.
About how he had been worried about money.
But he didn’t.
He thought it would pass.
He didn’t want to turn every conversation into a complaint.
So he sent:
You know I love your cooking.
Amara saw the message.
She smiled for half a second.
Then she caught herself.
Don’t be stupid, she told herself.
She didn’t want to get excited over one normal message.
That night, she opened their old chat.
She scrolled through months of conversations.
There were long messages.
Pictures.
Voice notes.
Arguments that had ended with apologies.
Jokes that only the two of them understood.
Promises.
Plans.
She stopped at an old message from Daniel.
I don’t ever want you to feel alone in this relationship. If something bothers you, tell me.
Amara stared at it.
She almost smiled.
Then she locked her phone.
Something bothered her.
But she couldn’t tell him.
Not yet.
Because saying I think you’re changing felt embarrassing.
What if she was wrong?
What if he laughed?
What if he told her she was overthinking?
What if he said she was becoming too needy?
She had promised herself she would never beg someone to love her.
So she decided to stop trying.
If Daniel wanted her, he would show it.
The next morning, Daniel noticed the difference immediately.
Amara’s message was short.
Morning.
No heart.
No nickname.
Nothing.
He frowned.
He called her.
She answered after several rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Are you busy?”
“No.”
“You sound strange.”
“So do you.”
Daniel laughed.
“I sound strange?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He sighed.
“Amara.”
“What?”
“You’ve been saying that a lot.”
“Because I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
She expected him to push.
He didn’t.
That annoyed her even more.
“So why did you call?” she asked.
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
Her heart softened.
But she quickly pushed the feeling away.
“Oh.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What should I say?”
“Nothing.”
Another silence.
Daniel finally said, “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
He ended the call.
Amara stared at her phone.
He wanted to hear my voice.
She smiled.
Then frowned again.
She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Later that week, Daniel suggested they meet.
“Are you free on Saturday?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“You used to get excited when I asked you out.”
Amara’s face changed.
“So now I’m supposed to act a certain way?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you said it.”
“I was just saying.”
“Forget it.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“What?”
“Everything becomes an argument.”
Amara went quiet.
He immediately regretted it.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s fine.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“Fine.”
She didn’t answer.
“Amara, I’m trying to understand you.”
“And I’m trying to understand you too.”
“Then talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Whatever is wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.”
Daniel sighed.
“Okay.”
She ended the call.
That night, Amara lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
She hated herself for crying.
She hated even more that she didn’t know exactly why she was crying.
She wasn’t sure if she was angry at Daniel or at herself.
Maybe both.
She opened her notes app.
She typed:
Things that have changed about Daniel:
She stopped.
Then continued.
He doesn’t call like before.
His messages are shorter.
He doesn’t ask about my day as much.
She stared at the list.
Then added:
Maybe he’s tired of me.
She deleted it immediately.
She didn’t want to write that down.
Because once it was written, it felt too real.
Daniel was awake too.
He was looking at his phone.
He wanted to call her.
But he didn’t know what to say.
He had noticed the distance.
He just didn’t know where it had come from.
He didn’t know that Amara thought he was leaving.
And she didn’t know that he was simply struggling to keep everything together.
Two people.
One relationship.
And too many things left unsaid.