The cursor blinked.
Once.Twice.Again.
Ryu stared at the small vertical line on his screen, as if it might turn into words on its own. Outside his window, the city was already asleep. Streetlights painted the empty road in dull orange, and somewhere far away a dog barked, then went silent.
It was 11:47 PM.
She was late.
Hana was never late.
Ryu leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of his old laptop filling the room. Posters peeled slightly from the walls—games, anime characters, worlds more colorful than his own. His room smelled faintly of instant coffee and rain. He had opened the window earlier, hoping the cool air would calm his thoughts, but it only made him feel more awake.
His phone buzzed.
Not her.
Just a notification. Spam. Nothing important.
He exhaled slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Ryu:Did something happen?
He didn't send it.
He deleted the message.
He didn't want to sound worried. He didn't want to pressure her. Distance already did that enough.
They lived far apart—so far that maps felt cruel. Different cities, different time schedules, different lives. The only place they truly met was inside glowing screens, inside typed words and late-night calls whispered into earphones.
And yet, somehow, that place felt more real than anything else.
At exactly 11:53 PM, the chat window changed.
Hana is typing…
Ryu's heart reacted faster than his mind.
Hana:I'm here. Sorry.
A smile crept onto his face before he could stop it.
Ryu:You don't have to apologize. I was just… waiting.
Three dots appeared again. Stayed longer than usual.
Hana:Do you ever feel like waiting is our whole relationship?
The smile faded.
Ryu read the message twice. Then a third time.
He knew what she meant.
Waiting for replies.Waiting for weekends.Waiting for money, time, courage.Waiting for a future that always felt just a little too far away.
Ryu:If it is… then I don't mind.
That was a lie.
He minded.He minded every night he fell asleep wondering what she looked like when she laughed.He minded every time something good or bad happened and he couldn't be there physically.He minded the way the word "someday" kept stretching longer and longer.
But he didn't want tonight to be heavy.
Hana:You're too kind.
Ryu:Only to you.
She sent a small laughing emoji. It felt warm, like a soft touch through glass.
For a while, they talked about small things.
A show Hana had started watching.A game update Ryu was excited about.The weather, even though it didn't matter.
They always did this—circling around the important things, afraid to touch them directly.
At 12:21 AM, Hana sent a voice message.
Ryu hesitated before pressing play. He always did. Hearing her voice made the distance hurt more.
Still, he pressed it.
Her voice was soft. A little tired.
"Ryu… are you awake?"
He smiled and whispered, even though she couldn't hear him. "Always."
He typed back.
Ryu:I am. What's wrong?
Another pause.
Then:
Hana:If I asked you something selfish… would you hate me?
Ryu straightened in his chair.
Ryu:Never.
The reply came slowly, like she was choosing each word with care.
Hana:If today was the last day we could talk… what would you say to me?
Ryu's fingers froze.
The room felt quieter. Even the laptop's hum seemed distant.
He stared at the question, heart pounding.
Why would she ask that?
Ryu:Why are you asking this?
No immediate reply.
Seconds stretched into minutes.
At 12:29 AM, she answered.
Hana:Sometimes I think… we take time for granted. Like it'll always wait for us.
Ryu swallowed.
He imagined her lying on her bed, phone held close to her chest, eyes staring at the ceiling just like he often did.
Ryu:Then I'd say I'm grateful.
Hana:Only that?
Ryu:I'd say… meeting you changed my life.
The dots appeared again.
Stayed.
Disappeared.
Appeared once more.
Hana:I wanted to meet you.
The words were simple.
They hurt more than anything.
Ryu:I know.
Hana:Not on a screen.
Ryu closed his eyes.
He imagined it—standing at a train station, spotting her in a crowd, feeling nervous and excited all at once. He imagined saying her name out loud for the first time, not typing it, not reading it, but hearing it exist in the air.
"I know," he whispered again.
Ryu:We still can.
Hana:Do you really believe that?
Ryu didn't answer immediately.
He believed in her.He believed in what they felt.
But belief didn't buy plane tickets.Belief didn't bend time.
Ryu:I believe in us.
That was the most honest answer he had.
At 12:41 AM, Hana sent another voice message.
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Ryu… if we don't get more time in this life… I hope the next one is kinder."
His chest tightened painfully.
Ryu:Don't talk like that.
Hana:I'm not being sad.
She paused, then added softly, "I'm being honest."
Ryu leaned forward, elbows on his desk, forehead resting against his hands.
Ryu:Then let me be honest too.
She waited.
Ryu:I wanted more time with you. Not chats. Not calls. Real time. The boring kind. The quiet kind.
Hana:Me too.
The word too felt heavy.
As if it carried everything they hadn't said.
At 12:55 AM, the conversation slowed. Not because they had nothing to say—but because they were both afraid that every word might be the last.
Hana:Ryu…
Ryu:Yeah?
Hana:If we get reborn… do you think we'd find each other again?
Ryu stared at the question.
He smiled sadly.
Ryu:I think… if it's us, we will.
Hana:Even without usernames?
Ryu:Even without names.
There was a long silence.
Then:
Hana:Promise me something.
Ryu:Anything.
Hana:If one of us disappears first… don't forget.
Ryu's eyes burned.
Ryu:I couldn't forget you even if I tried.
She sent a small heart.
Then one last message.
Hana:Goodnight, Ryu.
He typed quickly.
Ryu:Goodnight, Hana. I'll see you tomorrow.
The message was delivered.
Read.
But there was no reply.
Ryu waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
He checked the time—1:12 AM.
"She probably fell asleep," he murmured.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, phone resting loosely in his hand.
Outside, a truck passed by on the empty road.
Tomorrow, he thought.We'll talk tomorrow.
He didn't know—
That this was their unfinished goodbye.
That on the same day, in different places, two hearts would stop carrying the weight of distance.
And that somewhere beyond time, a god would hear a wish neither of them had the chance to say out loud:
Please… give us more time.