Read Receipt

She replied eight months late. "Sorry, just saw this."

It was a Tuesday. I was at work, eating a sad meal deal, when my phone buzzed. Her name. Her actual name, on my screen, for the first time since March.

Her name was Georgia. Three years together, a flat, a cat, a future I'd drawn up in my head with a stupid amount of detail. In March, I sent her a message late at night, drunk and honest.

"I think I made a mistake. I still love you. Please tell me if there's even a chance."

I'd watched it sit there. Delivered. Not read. For days. For weeks. I assumed she'd blocked me, or worse, ignored me. So I moved on. Or told myself I did. I moved cities. Got a new job. Learned to cook three things.

Now, eight months later, a reply.

"Sorry, just saw this. My old phone broke in April, and I only got my backup restored last night. I read everything."

The next line came quickly.

"I wasn't ignoring you. I was waiting for you to say it."

My hands went cold. I typed, deleted, typed again. What do you say? What's the right response to a love letter eight months late?

I wrote, "I'm in a different city now."

She replied, "I know. I'm in a different relationship."

I put the phone face down.

I'd spent eight months blaming her silence.

It was just a broken phone.