CHAPTER 3- Things We Pretend Not to Notice
By the second week, silence had become normal.
That scared Amara more than anything.
At first, the distance had bothered her.
Now she was getting used to it.
She stopped expecting Daniel to call.
She stopped waiting for his messages.
She stopped telling him little things about her day.
If he asked how she was, she said she was fine.
If he asked what she was doing, she answered.
Nothing more.
Daniel noticed.
He just didn’t know how to fix it.
One afternoon, he called her.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing much.”
Daniel waited.
Usually she would tell him something.
Today, nothing.
“Amara?”
“Hmm?”
“Are we okay?”
She froze.
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
She looked away.
“Maybe you don’t anymore.”
The words came out before she could stop them.
Daniel went quiet.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“See? You do this.”
“Do what?”
“You say something serious and then pretend it means nothing.”
“Forget it.”
“I don’t want to forget it.”
“Well, I do.”
He sighed.
“Okay.”
She ended the call.
The following Saturday, they finally met.
Daniel picked her up in the evening.
When Amara entered the car, he smiled.
“You look nice.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re quiet.”
“So are you.”
He laughed.
“Fair enough.”
They drove for a while before finding somewhere to sit.
For the first few minutes, things felt normal.
They talked about school.
They talked about work.
They laughed about something stupid Daniel had seen online.
Amara almost forgot about the tension.
Then Daniel looked at her.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you still love me?”
She blinked.
“Of course.”
“Okay.”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re weird.”
He smiled.
“Maybe.”
She looked out the window.
“Do you still love me?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
And neither did she.
The problem was that they had both become experts at hiding.
Amara hid hurt behind “I’m fine.”
Daniel hid stress behind “I’m busy.”
She thought his silence meant he didn’t care.
He thought her silence meant she didn’t trust him.
Neither of them was completely right.
Neither of them was completely wrong.
That night, Amara received a message from Daniel.
I miss how we used to talk.
She read it several times.
She wanted to say:
Me too.
Instead, she typed:
We’re still talking.
His reply came quickly.
That’s not what I mean.
She stared at the screen.
She knew exactly what he meant.
She just didn’t know how to say it.
So she didn’t reply.
A few days later, Daniel had to cancel their plans.
He had promised to see her on Friday.
By Friday afternoon, something came up at work.
He called her.
“Ama, I’m really sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I have to stay back at work.”
Her face fell.
“But you said you’d come.”
“I know.”
“You promised.”
“I know. I’m trying to sort something out.”
She was quiet.
Daniel waited.
“Amara?”
“It’s fine.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m not angry.”
“I know you’re angry.”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me what you’re feeling.”
She almost did.
She almost said:
I’m disappointed.
I was looking forward to seeing you.
I feel like I’m not important to you anymore.
Instead she said:
“It’s nothing.”
Daniel sighed.
“Okay.”
The call ended.
Amara put her phone down.
She was angry.
But beneath the anger was something else.
Hurt.
And beneath the hurt was fear.
She was afraid that she cared more than he did.
Later that night, she looked at her phone.
There was another message.
I’m sorry, Ama. I really am.
She didn’t reply.
Then another.
Please don’t be upset with me.
Still nothing.
Finally:
Goodnight.
She stared at the message.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She wanted to tell him everything.
But pride stopped her.
She put her phone down.
Daniel sat on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
He was tired of feeling like he couldn’t reach his own girlfriend.
He loved her.
He knew that.
But lately, loving her felt like trying to solve a problem without knowing the question.
He opened their old pictures.
There was one from months ago.
Amara was laughing.
He remembered that day.
She had complained that he took too many pictures of her.
He had told her:
“One day you’ll thank me.”
She had rolled her eyes.
Now he would do anything to hear that eye-roll again.
He didn’t understand how they had gotten here.
The next morning, Daniel sent one message.
Can we talk? Properly this time?
Amara stared at it.
Her heart started beating faster.
She knew that conversation had been coming.
She just didn’t know whether it would save them or finally break them.
She typed:
Okay.
And for the first time, neither of them could hide behind “I’m fine.”