Party Invite

My best friend and I haven't spoken in nine months. But every night, he invites me to a PlayStation party.

Jake and I met when we were eleven. Same bus, same cheese sandwiches, same obsession with a game neither of us was good at. We spent every Friday in his bedroom, shouting over headsets. When we got older, it was the same, just with beers and worse excuses.

Then I said something. I won't repeat it. A cruel joke about his dad, at a bad time, in front of people. He went quiet. Left. And I never apologised. Because I'm a coward who thinks "time heals everything."

So we stopped. Nine months of nothing. I deleted his number. Muted his stories. Told people we'd "grown apart."

But the console remembers. Every night at 2 AM, a notification slides across my TV. "Jake invited you to a party."

I never accept. Never decline. I just let it sit there like a doorbell I'm too ashamed to answer. Every night, it appears. Then, after an hour, vanishes.

Last night I finally looked at the message attached to the invite. I'd never noticed it.

A tiny line of text. "Still saving your spot."

I opened the party. Empty. No one in it. Just a chat window.

Jake's last message.

"Wasn't gonna delete this until you came back."

Nine months. A hundred and eighty invites. One empty seat.

I put on my headset.

And finally said sorry to nobody.