Shared Note

We shared one note in the Notes app. It was called "Things to do together." He never deleted it.

At first, it was cute. "Eat at the ramen place on 6th." "Go to Edinburgh in winter." "Learn to cook something that isn't pasta." Half of them were jokes. Half of them were promises.

His name was Caleb. We broke up in October, in the car, no drama. Just two tired people agreeing they'd run out of road.

For months, I avoided that note. Pretended it didn't exist. But last night, 2 AM, can't sleep, I opened it.

It had been updated.

Most of it was the same. Our silly list. But at the bottom, new lines, typed in his bullet-point style. Dates beside them.

"Went to the ramen place. Ordered your usual. Ate half. Couldn't finish."

"Booked Edinburgh. Didn't go."

"Tried cooking. Burnt it. Called Mum instead of you."

I read it with my hand over my mouth. Every entry, a little silent diary. He'd been ticking things off. Alone.

Then I reached the last line. Written just yesterday.

"Still can't delete this."

I hovered my thumb over the keyboard. I typed, slowly, one new line underneath.

"Me neither."

Then I locked my phone and sat in the dark.

We'd stopped talking months ago.

But we were still writing to each other.

We were just using the only place that felt safe.