We Promised to Wait for Everyone—But No One Waited for Me Chapter 02

We Promised to Wait for Everyone—But No One Waited for Me Chapter 02

The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Josie looked timid.

Dawson broke the silence first.

“Don’t overthink it. We decided last night, last minute, in the group chat.”

Miles jumped in.

“We didn’t leave you out on purpose. You were sleeping this morning, we didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

But I hadn’t known anything about it.

I hadn’t even had the chance to say yes or no.

Wesley put his arm around Josie.

“It’s just a sunrise. If you want to see one, we’ll take you tomorrow morning.”

“Come on, let’s head home.”

The four of them walked ahead, in step.

I took out my phone and opened the group chat with all five of us.

There was nothing in it about a sunrise.

Not in this group, then.

So it was in another one. A group chat without me.

I opened my department manager’s chat again and retyped what I hadn’t been able to send the night before.

[Hi, I’d like to volunteer for the relocation assignment in Halloran City, working on the project.]

My finger hovered over the send button for a second.

Then I pressed it.

Miles noticed I’d fallen far behind and dropped back to walk beside me.

“Don’t be mad. Next time, all five of us will go see one together.”

I nodded and said nothing.

I knew that sunrises happen every day.

But a sunrise with all five of us together?

There wouldn’t be a next time.

—

I took the department manager’s call alone, on the steps outside our building.

We settled it: a flight on Friday night.

When I got back inside, the four of them were squeezed onto the couch watching a movie.

Josie hugged a pillow in the middle.

Miles was on one side, Wesley on the other, and Dawson at the far end, doubled over laughing.

Nobody looked at me.

I stood in the corner of the living room for a moment, then went into the bedroom and closed the door softly behind me.

I took a suitcase down from the top of the closet.

It was the one I’d moved in with.

I opened the closet and took out my clothes one by one.

I’d be gone a long time, I’d need clothes for every season.

I picked a few practical pieces, folded them, and packed them.

The rest I planned to ship once I got to Halloran City.

I folded slowly.

With each piece, I smoothed out every wrinkle.

The books on my nightstand. The skincare on my vanity. The pot of mint I’d kept alive for so long.

Not one thing left behind.

The door opened without a knock.

Miles stood in the doorway holding a can of soda.

His eyes moved from the TV over to my open suitcase.

“Why are you packing all of a sudden?”

My hands didn’t stop. “A work trip. I’ll be gone a while.”

“How many days?”

“Not sure yet.”

“When do you leave?”

“The company hasn’t decided.”

He looked at me for a moment, then took a swig of soda.

“Okay. Don’t overdo it. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

He turned and went back to the living room, leaving the door open.

The four of them burst out laughing again.

I crouched by the suitcase and smoothed a half-folded sweater, then laid it at the bottom.

He’d asked three questions.

He hadn’t asked where. He hadn’t asked why I was leaving so suddenly. He hadn’t even glanced at what season’s clothes I was packing.

I zipped the suitcase shut, dragged it upright with some effort, and rolled it into the corner.

Another burst of laughter came from the living room.

I sat back down on the bed and opened Josie’s Instagram again, to that nine-photo carousel.

Four people, filling the frame exactly.

Then I switched to the group chat with all five of us and started scrolling up.

This Friday, I’d said I was working late and would be home late.

The only reply was a thumbs-up emoji from Josie.

Last Friday, Miles tagged Josie:

[Take your time shopping, we’ll wait for you and have a late snack.]

The Friday before that, Wesley tagged Josie:

[Drive home safe, we’ll wait for you to start cooking.]

I kept scrolling and searched the chat for one word: “wait.”

Fifteen times. All fifteen were about Josie.

My name appeared next to “wait” exactly once.

Miles, last Tuesday:

[It’s about to rain and Josie doesn’t have an umbrella, so I’m swinging by to pick her up. Not waiting for you. Text when you’re home.]

That day, I’d stood in the rain holding an umbrella for an hour before I finally got an Uber.

I stared at the screen, and suddenly remembered the winter of freshman year, when I’d asked the group:

[Why does nobody ever wait for me?]

Wesley: [You’re a grown woman. You need somebody to wait for you?]

Miles: [We were rushing to grab a table. Next time, for sure.]

Next time. Next time. Next time again.

He’d said it so many times, and every time it was like a line from a script.

Once it was said, that was the end of it.

I muted the five-person group and swiped to delete the whole chat history.

I wondered what they were saying in the other chat, the four-person one without me.

Never mind.

Some things aren’t worth spelling out.