I wake up before the alarm goes off. Out of habit, I pick up my phone and scroll through meaningless notifications, eventually staring at the screen where your name is absent for a long time. In the past, I would have smiled even before checking the message you sent. Now... it's just, if it's there, I look, if not, whatever. Even so, it's strangely pathetic how my hand holds onto the phone for so long without turning off the screen.

I thought it was because of the distance. Because the time zones didn't match, because we were both busy—that's why the conversation dwindled. I convinced myself of that several times. But when I think about it quietly, that wasn't everything. You're becoming less curious about my day. You used to want to know every little detail. Now, even bringing up a question feels like a burden.

Despite that, I still can't delete your chat room. I pointlessly scroll up to re-read the days when we laughed the most. Back then, you loved me so naturally, and the words kept flowing without any effort. I don't really know why that's impossible now.

Before I call, I always pause for a moment. Not because I have nothing to say, but because I have to choose what to say. Fearing the silence will grow long or things will get awkward, I roll prepared sentences around in my head several times. Then I suddenly think: this is strange. Why do I have to try this hard to talk to someone I like?

Still, I eventually press the call button. While the ringing tone continues for a long time, I catch my breath for no reason. I think about hanging up or just letting it go for today, but in the end, I wait. Until you pick up.

To be honest, I already know. That things aren't like they used to be. That your feelings for me are gradually cooling. Yet strangely, I can't let go. I'm afraid that if we end it completely, we'll really become nothing to each other. That's what scares me more.