My Seven Ex's

He chose a quiet place to say it.

That should have been my first warning.

We met near the waterfront, where the bay stretched wide and calm, pretending nothing ever went wrong. The air was cool and carried the smell of salt and distant traffic. Seagulls cried overhead, carefree and free. Elio stood by the railing, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the water as if he were already halfway gone.

“You’re quiet,” I said.

He nodded slowly, “I’ve been thinking and that made my stomach tighten.

“There’s something I need to do,” he continued, “my father is sick and he needs me.”

I turned fully toward him,“what’s wrong with him?”

He hesitated for just a moment before saying “his heart and the doctors want me there.”

I reached for his hand without thinking, “then you should go, his fingers closed around mine, “I’ll be gone for two weeks.”

Two weeks.

The words sounded harmless and temporary reasonable.

“I’ll call,” he said quickly, “i just need to focus while I’m there.”

“Of course,” I replied, “family comes first, and i meant it.

I squeezed his hand, “please greet him for me, and tell him I said I hope he gets better.”

Elio looked at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes then he smiled faintly.

“I will.”

We hugged goodbye, it lasted long enough to feel real but was short enough to leave questions hanging between us.

I watched him walk away, telling myself love was patient.

When I got home, Ava was waiting.

She sat on my bed like she owned the room, scrolling through her phone, legs crossed, expression unreadable.

“He told you, didn’t he?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “he’s traveling because his dad is sick.”

She nodded slowly, “that’s sad.”

“I told him to go.”

“Good,” Ava said, “that’s mature of you.”

Something about her tone unsettled me, but I brushed it off. Ava always spoke like she knew things before they happened.

That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, convincing myself distance would only make things stronger.

I didn’t know that while I was lying there, Elio was already home and calling Ava.

The first week passed too quietly.

I called Elio once. I didn’t want to seem needy.

“How’s your dad?” I asked, trying to sound calm.

“He’s stable,” he said, “thanks for asking.”

“That’s good,” I replied, relief washing through me, “tell him I’m praying for him.”

“I will.”

The call ended quickly.

But I told myself not to overthink it, love didn’t need constant proof.

Ava, however, noticed everything.

“He hasn’t called?” she asked one afternoon.

“He’s busy,” I said.

“With a sick father?”

“Yes.”

She hummed, “men always say that.”

“Ava.”

“I’m just saying, silence changes people.”

Her words stayed with me longer than they should have.

By the second week, silence had a sound.

My phone stayed still on my desk, screen dark, hours stretching thin, i checked it too often, picked it up and put it down while pretended not to care.

Ava didn’t help.

“Maybe he left,” she said casually one night while painting her nails.

“He didn’t,” I snapped.

“I mean… men do that, leave without words she explained.

“You’re wrong.”

She glanced at me, “Am I?”

That night, I cried quietly, facing the wall, refusing to let her see.

Love had started to feel like waiting for something that might never come.

The days slowed.

San Francisco moved on without me people rushing, laughing, living, and i walked through campus like a ghost, smiling when spoken to, breaking when alone.

I stopped calling.

I didn’t want to be the girl who begged, by the end of the second week, I had convinced myself I had imagined the sweetness, the chocolate and the kisses, the promises hidden between words.

Maybe Ava was right.

The call came at night, my phone rang suddenly, loud in the quiet room, all I did was to stared at it as if it might disappear.

Elio.

I answered without breathing.

“Vanya,” he said, “I’m outside.”

My heart stopped

“Outside where?”

“Your house.”

I rushed to the window.

And there he was, standing under the streetlight.

Waiting.