A late-night chat where the truth keeps changing shape
[Chat App: Nightline]
Participants:
LenaR
EvanMiles
EvanMiles:
You still awake?
LenaR:
Unfortunately, yes. Insomnia and my brain have a standing appointment.
EvanMiles:
Same. Feels like the quiet only gets louder after midnight.
LenaR:
That might be the most accurate thing anyone’s said to me all week.
EvanMiles:
High praise. I’ll take it.
LenaR:
So… what are you doing up?
EvanMiles:
Could ask you the same thing.
LenaR:
Dodging tomorrow. You?
EvanMiles:
Thinking about a mistake I made ten years ago.
LenaR:
Casual. Very casual.
EvanMiles:
I specialize in emotional whiplash.
LenaR:
Apparently. Do I get context, or are we being mysterious on purpose?
EvanMiles:
I don’t usually talk about it. But something about you feels… safe.
LenaR:
That’s either flattering or deeply concerning.
EvanMiles:
Both can be true.
[Typing…]
LenaR:
Okay, Evan Miles. Lay it on me.
EvanMiles:
I walked away from someone who needed me. Told myself I was doing the right thing. Turns out, I was just scared.
LenaR:
Fear wears a lot of disguises.
EvanMiles:
Yeah. Mine wore a suit and a good excuse.
LenaR:
What happened to them?
EvanMiles:
I don’t know. Lost contact. That’s the part that eats at me.
LenaR:
You ever try to find them?
EvanMiles:
Every day. In stupid ways. Old social accounts. Comment sections. Sometimes I think I see them in strangers.
LenaR:
That sounds exhausting.
EvanMiles:
It is. But talking to you helps. Weird, right?
LenaR:
A little. But I won’t tell.
[Seen by LenaR]
LenaR:
Can I ask you something kind of personal?
EvanMiles:
You already did. Go bigger.
LenaR:
Your profile says you’re 34.
EvanMiles:
That’s right.
LenaR:
Huh.
EvanMiles:
That “huh” feels loaded.
LenaR:
Just math. Don’t worry about it.
EvanMiles:
I’m worried now.
LenaR:
You said the mistake was ten years ago.
EvanMiles:
Yeah.
LenaR:
You’d have been… 24.
EvanMiles:
Sharp.
LenaR:
The person you left. How old were they?
EvanMiles:
Why does that matter?
LenaR:
Humor me.
EvanMiles:
They were 22.
LenaR:
Okay.
EvanMiles:
That’s it? No reaction?
LenaR:
I’m processing.
EvanMiles:
You’re quiet.
LenaR:
Just thinking about how people remember the same moment differently.
EvanMiles:
What do you mean?
LenaR:
Memory edits things. Softens edges. Or sharpens them.
EvanMiles:
You sound like someone who’s been on the other side of that.
LenaR:
Maybe I have.
[Typing… stopped]
EvanMiles:
You okay?
LenaR:
Do you believe people can change?
EvanMiles:
I hope so. Otherwise I’m in trouble.
LenaR:
What if the person you hurt changed too?
EvanMiles:
Then I’d be glad for them. Even if I never get to see it.
LenaR:
What if you have seen it?
EvanMiles:
Now you’re talking in riddles.
LenaR:
Sorry. Habit.
EvanMiles:
You’re allowed quirks. I like them.
LenaR:
Careful. Compliments make me suspicious.
EvanMiles:
Noted.
[2:41 AM]
LenaR:
What was their name?
EvanMiles:
You sure you want to go there?
LenaR:
I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.
EvanMiles:
Lena.
LenaR:
…
EvanMiles:
You still there?
LenaR:
Yeah. Just… wow.
EvanMiles:
What?
LenaR:
Nothing. It’s just funny.
EvanMiles:
Funny isn’t the word I’d use.
LenaR:
Irony, then.
EvanMiles:
Okay, now I’m officially uneasy.
LenaR:
Evan… what if I told you people don’t disappear as completely as we think?
EvanMiles:
I’d say I wish that were true.
LenaR:
What if I told you she didn’t vanish. She just stopped waiting.
EvanMiles:
You’re speaking like you know her.
LenaR:
Maybe I do.
EvanMiles:
LenaR. Who are you?
[Typing… long pause]
LenaR:
Do you remember the night you left?
EvanMiles:
Every detail.
LenaR:
The rain that wasn’t in the forecast.
EvanMiles:
Yes.
LenaR:
The diner on 8th Street. The cracked vinyl booth.
EvanMiles:
How could you possibly—
LenaR:
You said you needed “time.” You said it like it was temporary.
EvanMiles:
Stop.
LenaR:
You promised you’d call.
EvanMiles:
This isn’t funny.
LenaR:
I’m not laughing.
EvanMiles:
Who are you really?
LenaR:
You already said my name.
EvanMiles:
No. That’s not—
LenaR:
It is.
EvanMiles:
Lena…?
LenaR:
I changed the spelling. Figured I earned that much.
[Seen by EvanMiles]
EvanMiles:
I’ve looked for you for years.
LenaR:
I know.
EvanMiles:
Why didn’t you say something sooner?
LenaR:
Because I wanted to know who you were now. Not who you remember being.
EvanMiles:
And?
LenaR:
You’re still good at excuses. But you’re better at honesty than you used to be.
EvanMiles:
I never meant to hurt you.
LenaR:
I know. That’s what made it hurt longer.
EvanMiles:
Can we talk? For real. Not like this.
LenaR:
This is real. Just filtered through screens and time.
EvanMiles:
Do you hate me?
LenaR:
No. I outgrew that. Hate takes too much energy.
EvanMiles:
Then why now?
LenaR:
Because I needed to hear you say it wasn’t nothing. That it mattered.
EvanMiles:
It mattered. You mattered. You still do.
LenaR:
Good. That’s all I needed.
EvanMiles:
That can’t be all.
LenaR:
It is. Closure doesn’t always look like reconciliation.
EvanMiles:
Will I ever see you?
LenaR:
You already did. Just not the way you expected.
EvanMiles:
What does that mean?
LenaR:
I was the stranger you smiled at last month. Outside the bookstore. You held the door.
EvanMiles:
I remember that.
LenaR:
I know.
[3:02 AM]
EvanMiles:
Are you going to log off?
LenaR:
Yeah. I think I can sleep now.
EvanMiles:
I don’t want to lose you again.
LenaR:
You’re not losing me. You’re just finally letting me go.
EvanMiles:
I’m sorry it took so long.
LenaR:
Me too. But we got here.
EvanMiles:
Goodnight, Lena.
LenaR:
Goodnight, Evan.
[User LenaR has gone offline]
At the bottom of the screen, Evan watched the chat dim, the words still glowing faintly, like embers refusing to cool. He realized something then. Some conversations don’t exist to begin again. They exist to end properly.
And for the first time in ten years, the quiet didn’t feel so loud.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.