Congratulations

LinkedIn told me my ex has a new job. I clicked "Congratulations" before I could stop myself.

It's a stupid platform for heartbreak. Everyone's so professional. "Thrilled to announce." "Humbled and grateful." And then there's me at 2 AM, in pyjamas, scrolling through the career milestones of a man who once cried over a burnt pizza.

His name was Theo. We were together through all of uni. Late-night essay panics. Library dates. He once proofread my dissertation in a fever, with a mug of Lemsip, because I'd asked.

We broke up in graduation week, which felt cruel in a very cinematic way. He wanted to travel. I wanted to start my career. We both said, "Maybe later."

So now he's "Excited to join Brightwell Digital as a Junior Strategist." And the little button, bright blue, said "Congratulate."

I tapped it. It sent a pre-written message. "Congrats on the new role!" Neutral. Safe. A corporate hug.

He replied in thirty seconds.

"Thanks. It's in your city."

I stared at my phone. Read it three times. Then: "I wanted to tell you in person. But I didn't know if I was allowed."

I looked at the date. He'd started last Monday.

A week. He'd been in my city for a week.

He'd walked past my favourite coffee shop. Taken my train line. Slept four miles from my front door.

All that time, I'd thought he'd gone far away.

He just never knew how to knock.