Every conversation starts with silence — some just hit harder than others.
It was a quiet night, the kind where the hum of the fan becomes the loudest thing in the room. I had just gotten comfortable on the couch, phone in hand, doom-scrolling through random reels when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Hey, Ren! I have something for yah."
My cousin Annie's voice cut through the silence as she dropped herself onto the seat beside me like a bowling ball. I flinched slightly — not because I was startled, but because she never says anything without a plan.
"What is it now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She held out her phone, grinning like someone about to reveal a deep secret. On the screen was a Facebook profile. A girl — maybe our age, maybe younger — smiling in a group photo, long hair tucked behind one ear. Her name: Jen Rivera.
"She's cute, right?" Annie said, nudging me. "That's my best friend. She's single. You're single. You do the math."
I blinked. "This... is math now?"
"Shut up and add her," she said, half-laughing. "Just a friend request. And maybe message her on Messenger later, you know? Say hi, start a convo. Unless you're too shy or something."
I looked at the profile again. She was cute. Soft smile. Something about her eyes looked genuine.
"...You already gave her a heads-up, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
I sighed — but smiled a little.
And so, at 10:12 PM on a random Tuesday night, I hit the Add Friend button on a girl I'd never met — because my cousin decided to play Cupid.
I stared at the screen for a while after that. The little blue checkmark blinked. Request sent.
But messaging her?
Yeah… that would take a bit longer.
It had been two hours since I sent her the friend request.
Honestly, I forgot all about it. I spent the rest of the night deep in my usual chaos: switching between ranked matches, YouTube rabbit holes, and random webnovel chapters until I lost track of time completely.
When I finally crashed, I must've knocked out like a corpse.
Waking up was brutal. My head throbbed — the kind of headache that only comes from sleeping way too late and waking up way too suddenly. I groaned, rolled over, and checked the time.
12:09 PM.
Summer vacation, thank God. No classes. No alarms. No regrets… sort of.
Still half-asleep, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled toward the kitchen like a zombie. First mission of the day: coffee. Black. Hot. Necessary. A piece of bread from last night's dinner became my makeshift breakfast. Or lunch. Brunch? Whatever — it was food.
I settled into my usual spot on the couch, sipped my coffee, and opened my phone out of habit.
That's when I saw it.
> Jen unsent a message.
Wait. What?
I blinked. My heart did this weird half-flip thing in my chest.
Jen — the girl my cousin tried to ship me with — had messaged me. But then unsent it. At 11:06 AM, according to the timestamp. And now, she was marked as "online 1 hour ago."
> She typed something. Then deleted it. Why?
Suddenly I was wide awake.
I stared at the screen for a while, unsure if I should do something... or just pretend I never saw it. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Me: hi?
That's all I could type. Just one word. One lowercase, awkward, hesitant word.
And now… I wait.
Or so I thought.
Because not even ten minutes later, I completely forgot about the message. See, I'm not exactly living in peace and quiet right now. I'm staying at my older cousin's place for the summer — she just had a baby, and I help out around the house when I'm not gaming or frying my brain with caffeine.
No, she's not a single mom. Her husband's a seaman and currently halfway across the planet. So it's mostly just me, her, and Annie.
Yup. The same Annie who basically set me up with Jen like it was some kind of online blind date.
Annie's 18, ridiculously short, and somehow even more hyper when holding a baby. She's Filipina, but if you squint, she kind of looks like a budget K-drama actress. And I say that with love — she's basically 60% cuteness, 40% chaos.
We take turns watching the baby, a chubby little boy who loves screaming at walls for no reason. I had just finished my shift (aka surviving the chaos) and was finally sitting down with my second cup of coffee-slash-lunch, when I checked my phone out of habit.
1:45 PM.
Notifications.
I opened Messenger — and there it was:
> Jen unsent a message
Me: hi?
Jen: hello ?
...Oh god.
Now it's real.
She replied. Not just reacted. Not just seen. Replied.
And here I am, staring at my phone like it just became a live grenade.
> What do I say? What's the protocol for un-unsending awkward energy?
I put the phone down, picked it back up, put it down again. My brain did that thing where it tries to come up with five perfect replies at once and ends up with none.
This is awkward.
This is getting way too awkward.I couldn't take it anymore.
The awkwardness was physically leaking out of my phone screen. I got up, practically power-walked toward the kitchen, and found Annie standing by the stove, frying something that smelled suspiciously like hotdog slices and egg.
Maybe she was making snacks. Maybe she was just burning stuff for fun. Either way, I didn't care.
"Annie," I said, voice just one notch below a panic whisper. "Hey. Ann. Ann. ANN!"
She turned, eyebrow raised, spatula in hand like she was ready to duel.
"What?"
I shoved my phone in her face.
"This. This is what. Help me."
She squinted at the screen.
> Jen unsent a message
Me: hi?
Jen: hello ?
Annie blinked, then smirked.
"Oh my god," she said. "This is so awkward it hurts."
"Exactly!" I pointed dramatically at the phone. "What do I even say to that?! It's like... weird tension already and we haven't even started talking! This is your fault!"
"Excuse me?" she said, turning back to the frying pan like my breakdown wasn't her problem. "How is this my fault? I just introduced you two. You're the one making it weird."
"You forced me to add her!"
"Yeah, and you actually did it. Don't blame me for your bad flirting."
"I didn't even flirt! That's the problem!"
She laughed.
I groaned and leaned on the counter, burying my face in my hands.
"So what should I say?" I muttered. "Come on, give me a line or something."
Annie shrugged like it was nothing. "I don't know. It's up to you now. You two are talking, not me."
"Wow. Incredible support."
"Hey, I'm just the bridge," she said. "Whether you cross it or fall off is up to you."
I stared down at the message again. Hello ?
It wasn't a bad message.
It just... sat there. Hovering. Awkward. Waiting.
And suddenly, the idea of replying felt like trying to defuse a bomb with spaghetti fingers.
I stared at the screen for a full minute, just watching that single-word reply float in silence.
> Jen: hello ?
It would be even weirder if I didn't reply now. She already saw the "hi." I'd seen her reply. If I left it hanging too long, it'd turn into that awkward digital ghosting thing — and that's not the kind of first impression I wanted to make.
So I took a breath, chugged the last of my lukewarm coffee like it was liquid courage, and started typing.
Me: slr (sorry late reply) I woke up late and didn't see your message earlier. what did you unsent?
> Oh, I'll be damned.
I hit send before I could second-guess it. The message flew into the void, blue check and all.
I sat back and immediately regretted everything.
This wasn't the first time I'd talked to a girl — not even close. I mean, I'd been in relationships before. Three, to be exact. And every single one of them ended in spectacular failure. The kind of failure that you can't even learn from — just laugh at, cry about, and try to forget.
But still… talking to girls, especially ones I don't know, always gets me nervous.
There's this weird tension in your chest. Like your brain wants to sound cool, but your fingers keep typing like you're applying for a job you're not qualified for.
And yet... I'm not always like this.
I mean, I once asked a ridiculously hot saleslady at a tech store for a discount — with a completely straight face. Shameless. No filter. I even threw in a bad joke and a wink. Didn't get the discount, but hey, I walked out with my pride intact.
But with this?
This wasn't just any random person. This was Annie's best friend. A girl who already unsent one message before I even said "hi." A girl who's probably wondering why I'm weird, dry, or possibly dumb.
So yeah…
Maybe I'm overthinking it.
But maybe… I'm not.