The Failed Breakup Message, Still His

The dust on the old phone was three years thick when I finally dug it out.

I charged it for half an hour, and the screen finally flickered to life.

The messaging app logged in automatically, and the chat history loaded page by page.

Landon Reeds name was the third one down on the list.

The last message was from meDthree simple words: Lets break up.

There was a red exclamation mark right next to it.

Sending failed.

I stared at that red mark, my thumb hovering over the glass, frozen for a long time.

Three years ago, I thought I was the one who dumped him.

I changed my number, moved to a new city, and buried that relationship in the bottom drawer of my life.

Three years later, I realized the breakup message never even went through.

My new phone buzzed suddenly.

A message from my project manager, Selena, popped up: The clients design director is coming in next week. His last name is Reed. Get ready.

I gripped both phonesDthe old one and the new oneDuntil my knuckles turned white.

There was no way.

01

My name is Gia Fisher. Im twenty-six, and I work as an illustrator.

I spent two years drifting as a freelancer before Selena recruited me into her design firm last month.

Our client was a major architectural firm, and the project involved murals for a newly completed community center.

Selena said it was the firms biggest contract of the year and kept repeating, Dont screw this up.

I told her I wouldnt.

Then, a second later, Landon Reed walked into the conference room.

He was wearing a dark gray sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

It had been three years. His hair was a bit shorter, and his jawline looked even sharper than before.

He held a stack of blueprints, his gaze lifting to sweep across the room.

When his eyes landed on me, they paused for half a second.

Then he looked away.

It was the look of someone staring at a piece of art they had zero interest in.

Selena greeted him warmly. Director Reed, please, have a seat. This is our lead illustrator, Gia Fisher.

He gave a stiff nod.

Hello.

Just one word. His voice was the sameDlow, with that slight Southern drawl hed always had.

But the tone was different.

Back then, when he said my name, his voice would lift at the end, like he was smiling.

Now, his voice was flat.

It felt like stepping on cold stone.

I flipped open my sketchbook, pretending to study my old drafts.

The tip of my pen pressed so hard against the paper that it poked a small hole.

02

The meeting lasted for two hours.

Landon explained his design philosophy while I kept my head down, taking notes.

His handwriting was still as beautiful as ever.

The handwritten notes on the blueprints were so neat they looked like they had been printed.

I stared at those words and drifted off, remembering the sticky notes he used to leave me.

Theres yogurt in the fridge. Dont forget to drink it.

Working late tonight. Go to sleep first.

Next Wednesday is your birthday. Ive already taken the day off.

Every single note had a little fish drawn at the bottom.

He said it was because my name was Gia Fisher.

When the meeting ended, Selena suggested we grab a bite together.

Landon checked his watch and said he had another meeting, maybe some other time.

As he was packing up his blueprints, the top sketch slid off the table.

I leaned down to grab it, and my fingers brushed against his.

He pulled back instantly.

The sketch landed in my hand.

Thanks, he said.

He didnt call me Gia. He didnt say another word.

As he walked out the door, I noticed the tiny mole on the back of his neck.

It was in the exact same spot as it was three years ago.

That winter he had a fever, and I was pressing a warm towel to his forehead.

That mole was right in front of my eyes, trembling slightly every time he coughed.

He told me to stop looking because it was ugly.

I told him it wasn't. I told him it looked like a tiny chocolate chip.

03

Landon and I met in college.

I was a messy art student, and he was the star of the architecture department.

Our buildings were separated by a long, tree-lined boulevard, but we bumped into each other at the cafeteria.

Mainly because he snatched the last serving of BBQ ribs right in front of me.

I stared at him with an empty tray, and he looked embarrassed as he moved the ribs to my plate.

He said, Sorry, I thought nobody wanted them.

I snapped back, If nobody wants them, you just grab them?

He replied, Yeah. Anything that nobody wants, Ill take.

Later, he confessed he did it on purpose.

I saw you waiting in line for so long, and I felt guilty taking the last one.

I asked him, Then why didn't you just give me the whole tray?

He smiled and said that would have been boring.

That was Landon. He never did anything the direct way.

He didn't change even after we started dating.

That winter, I mentioned I wanted roasted chestnuts.

He rode his bike halfway across the city to find an old street vendor who was still open.

He brought them back tucked inside his coat, the heat leaving a red mark on his chest.

I called him an idiot. He just grinned and told me to eat them while they were hot.

I took a bite, and the sweetness made me squint.

He watched me, looking even more satisfied than I was.

Then there was the time I submitted a series of illustrations for a contest and lost.

I sat on the floor of the studio alone, crying my eyes out, wanting to see no one.

He climbed over the wall to get to meDthe wall of the girls' dorm.

The security guards chased him for two blocks.

When he finally appeared in front of me, gasping for air, he was holding a bag of hot sugar-glazed nuts.

He said sweet things would stop the crying.

I called him a psycho and then cried even harder.

Back then, I thought he was romantic.

But later, when we fought, he wouldn't say a single word.

Fine.

That was all he would say. Then hed hang up and never call back.

I thought he was the type who could handle a breakup with dignity.

No clinging, no begging, no questioning.

Now that I think about it...

The breakup message from three years ago never actually sent.

What he received wasn't a Lets break up. It was just my sudden disappearance.

He must have thought I was some heartless jerk who ghosted him.

He probably thought he had completely misjudged who I was.

04

For the next week, Landon and I had to meet every single day.

The plan was revised three times, and he still wasn't satisfied.

The color palette is too cold. A community center needs to feel warm.

This pattern is too complex. The elderly won't understand it.

These lines right hereD

He paused. His pen pointed at my sketch, but he didn't look up.

Redraw it.

Selena tried to smooth things over.

Gia worked really hard on this. Maybe theres just a communication gap. Why don't you two go over it privately?

Landon was silent for about three seconds.

Fine. Tomorrow afternoon, come to my office.

Selena winked at me. I knew what she meantDdon't blow this deal.

What she didn't know was that the biggest risk wasn't Landon rejecting my work.

It was the fact that every time I saw the scar on his wrist, I remembered being the one who put a bandage there.

He had cut himself slicing an apple, and as the blood welled up, he hissed in pain.

I wrapped the bandage around his wrist again and again.

He said that was enough, it wasn't a broken bone.

I told him no, it had to be wrapped tight to stay on.

The way he looked at me back then was like I was something precious.

The scar was still there now. But that look was gone.

05

The next afternoon, I went to Landons office.

His firm was in the downtown business district, occupying an entire floor with open, airy spaces.

The receptionist led me to a conference room and said Mr. Reed would be right with me.

I sat at the table and opened my laptop.

My desktop wallpaper was an illustration I drew last yearDa maple tree with two small silhouettes underneath.

I hadn't thought much of it when I drew it, but looking at it now made me feel a bit guilty.

Landon walked in, carrying two cups of coffee.

He placed one in front of me.

An Americano. No sugar.

That was exactly what I drank every single day three years ago.

I froze for a moment.

He noticed my expression and said casually, The front desk made too much.

I whispered a thank you.

He sat down and flipped through my revised drafts.

Silence stretched for about five minutes.

Much better.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

But its still not enough.

He looked up, finally meeting my eyes properly.

Gia, you left out the thing youre best at.

What thing?

Your soul. Theres a certain tenderness in your work. I felt it back in college.

Back in college.

When those words left his mouth, his voice cracked slightly.

It was faint, but I heard it.

He immediately looked back down and flipped to the next page.

The only sound in the room was the rustle of paper.

He looked through them slowly, lingering on each one.

His fingertips would pause or backtrack as they brushed over the paper.

I knew he was processingDhe had a habit of moving his fingers whenever his brain was working.

I held that Americano but didn't drink it.

The steam blurred his face.

He suddenly stopped at one particular drawing.

It was a set of animal patterns for the children's areaDrabbits, bears, giraffesDall drawn with soft, flowing lines.

He stared at it for so long that I started to feel restless.

This one.

Whats wrong with it?

The way you drew the rabbit ears. You used a different pressure than the others.

I looked down at the sketch. I hadn't even noticed.

Thats how you used to draw the rabbits on the notes you gave me.

He flipped the paper over to the blank side.

Even now, you still think rabbit ears should droop down instead of standing up.

My nose suddenly stung.

I thought he wouldn't remember anything.

But he even remembered which way I drew rabbit ears.

The AC was blasting, but my fingers felt like they were on fire.

I took a sip of the Americano.

It was incredibly bitter.

But I took another sip, and another, until the cup was empty.

06

By the time we finished the revisions, it was 8:00 PM.

It had started raining outside, and I stood at the office entrance without an umbrella.

Landons car was parked at the curb.

He rolled down the window. Get in. Its on my way.

I said Id just call an Uber.

You won't get one at this hour.

I checked the app. There were thirty-seven people ahead of me.

When I sat in the passenger seat, I smelled the same car scent from three years ago.

White Tea.

He still used the same brand.

The wipers swiped back and forth across the glass.

He didn't talk while he drove, his jawline tight.

The car was so quiet I could hear the ticking of his wristwatch.

Why are you still alone?

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

His fingers stiffened on the steering wheel.

How do you know Im alone?

I guessed.

He didn't respond.

It took three traffic lights before he spoke again.

Three years ago, that nightD

A motorcycle cut him off from the right, and he jerked the wheel.

The sentence died.

Once the car stabilized, he didn't continue.

And I didn't ask.

He dropped me off at the entrance of my apartment complex.

As I unbuckled my seatbelt to get out, he suddenly called my name.

Gia.

I looked back.

Raindrops clung to his window, shattering his profile into blurry fragments.

You left... without saying a single word.

His voice was calm. It didn't sound like an accusation.

It sounded like a fact he had spent three years learning to accept.

I opened my mouth to speak.

My phone vibrated in my bag. The old phone.

I gripped the strap of my bag. Landon, ID

Forget it. No need to explain. Its in the past.

The window rolled up, and the tinted glass hid his face.

The taillights blurred into a red haze in the rain, turning the corner and vanishing.

I stood in the rain. Cold water dripped down my hair and into my collar.

The person who disappeared three years ago was me.

The person who couldn't find her voice in the rain now was also me.

I pulled out the old phone.

The screen was lit, and the red exclamation mark on the app was blinking under the raindrops.

My thumb swiped across the screen, wiping away the water, but I couldn't wipe away that mark.

I don't know how long I stood there.

I just know that when I got inside, I was soaked to the bone.

The person in the mirror had terrifyingly red eyes, but not a single tear had fallen.

I put the old phone on the coffee table.

I stared at that red exclamation mark from 9:00 PM until 1:00 AM.

07

I flipped the phone over, face down. Then I picked it up again. Then I put it back down.

I did this five times.

Then I sent Selena a message: Can I take half a day off tomorrow?

She replied instantly: The deadline is right there and youre asking for time off?

Its an emergency.

...Fine. Half a day.

The next morning, I didn't go to the office.

I went to the service providers store and got a new SIM card for my old number.

I popped it into the old phone, and the messaging app took forever to load.

My chat history with Landon was all there.

Every single message.

Every message he had sent meDmessages I had never replied to.

Starting from the day we broke up.

I hadn't answered a single one.

The last message he sent was three days after I tried to dump him.

Gia, if youre in trouble, tell me. I won't blame you.

During the three days I was gone, he thought something had happened to me.

He had made an excuse for me.

He stopped messaging after that third day.

He probably figured that no matter what the reason, three days of silence was enough of an answer.

I exited the app and opened my contacts.

His number was still thereDLandy. I had added a little sun emoji back then.

I took a deep breath.

Then I hit the call button.

The dial tone rang three times.

My palms were sweating, and my heart was beating so loud I was afraid hed hear it through the line.

I hadn't called this number in three years.

Back then, my fingers didn't shake when I pressed these buttons.

Now, my knuckles were white from gripping the phone so hard.

I wanted to hang up.

Too late. He picked up.