But the ache under Maya’s ribs wasn’t just surgical. It was spreading—cold, slow, and creeping into something she didn’t yet have words for. The ride home felt longer than usual. Her body ached. Her head buzzed. Her phone stayed quiet the entire trip.
That night, she finally texted: Let me know when you’re up for a call. No response. The next day, she tried again: Are you okay? Still nothing. No reply. His name sat at the top of her inbox like a bruise that wouldn’t fade.