Chapter 30 — Missed Timing
Arga didn't wait this time.
That night, while the city was still noisy outside his window, he unlocked his phone and typed.
"Can we talk? Properly. Just for a bit."
Sent.
He put the phone down immediately, as if staring at it would change something.
Minutes passed.
No reply.
He stood up, paced the room once, then twice. Stopped by the window. Cars moved below, lights passing like nothing was wrong in the world.
The phone buzzed.
From her.
"Now?"
Arga didn't hesitate.
"Yeah."
The call connected faster than usual.
"Hey," her voice came through, slightly strained.
"Hey."
Silence followed. Not the comfortable kind. The kind where both people were thinking about the same thing and avoiding it at the same time.
"You sound tired," Arga said.
She laughed softly. "I am. Long day."
"Every day's long lately."
She didn't deny it.
Arga took a breath. "I feel like… we barely talk anymore."
Another pause.
"We do talk," she replied. "Just not as much."
"That's the problem," Arga said, a little too fast. He stopped himself. "I mean— it feels like we're always busy. Or waiting. Or postponing."
"I'm trying, Arga."
"I know," he said quickly. "I'm not saying you're not."
Her breathing was audible through the call. Slow. Controlled.
"Then what are you saying?" she asked.
Arga opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
The words he wanted to say suddenly felt too heavy to throw across a phone call.
"I don't know," he admitted. "That's what scares me."
She was quiet for a long moment.
"Maybe we're just in a phase," she said. "It happens."
"Does it?" Arga asked.
Another silence.
"I should sleep," she finally said. "Tomorrow's packed."
"Yeah," Arga replied. "Sure."
The call ended without an argument. Without a solution.
Arga stared at the dark screen, his reflection faintly visible. He rubbed his face with one hand and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"That went nowhere," he muttered.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. This time, he didn't feel sad. Just… empty. Like something important had been skipped.
Later, he opened his laptop again. Not for work. Not for distraction.
He went back to the same tabs he'd skimmed before. Numbers. Charts. People talking about risks, about patience, about losing before winning.
It wasn't exciting.
But it was honest.
"No waiting," Arga said quietly. "No guessing."
His phone stayed silent.
Outside, the noise of the city slowly faded into the background. Arga leaned back, eyes fixed on the screen, mind finally focused on something that didn't disappear just because someone was busy.
Somewhere deep down, he knew this wasn't about money yet.
It was about control.
About choosing something that stayed—
even when people didn't.