Message Request

His new girlfriend messaged me. It went in a direction I didn't expect.

It landed in my Instagram requests at 1:56 AM. A name I didn't recognise. A profile picture of a girl with curly hair, laughing, holding a mug. I almost ignored it. Then I read the first line.

"Hi. I'm Josh's girlfriend. Please don't be scared, I'm not here to cause trouble."

Josh. Three years. The boy I loved until it hurt to breathe.

I sat up. My thumb hovered. I read it in a whisper.

"I found your old messages while looking for a charger in his drawer. I didn't snoop. A photo fell out. I know it's weird. I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for how it ended. I'm not mad at you. I think you were good for him."

I felt sick. And weirdly, grateful. A stranger writing to me with more kindness than he'd shown in six months.

Another message. A longer one.

"I'm not trying to compete. But I wanted you to know, he's different since you. He gets quiet when someone mentions Lisbon. He still says your name sometimes when he's tired. I used to think I was imagining it. I'm not."

I held my phone against my chest. Cried a little. Not the sad kind. The strange kind.

Then her last message, quick and small.

"I just thought you should know it wasn't nothing."

His new girlfriend gave me the closure he never could.

And somehow, she did it better.