"I may as well tuck this silly laptop under my bed at this point... I'm tired of seeing it." Bella mutters under her breath as she rubs her forehead in frustration.

The silence has a sound tonight.

The whole apartment seems to be waiting for Bella to break the silence. The refrigerator sighs. The pipes groan somewhere deep in the walls. But the loudest is the silence that presses hardest against Bella’s ribs, a silence that knows her name.

She stares at the laptop screen for the hundredth time.

0 messages.

That number glows like an accusation.

'MYSTERIOUS DELIGHT'.

She lets out a small, bitter laugh. “Delightful, indeed,” she blurts out, rubbing her arms against the chill. Sophie’s bright, playful choice for a username now feels like a cosmic joke. There is nothing “mysterious” about a middle-aged woman in worn flannel pajama pants and fuzzy socks. Nothing “delightful” about waiting for digital affection that refuses to arrive, her thoughts chide.

She closes the laptop with a snap and shoves it to the far end of the coffee table as though it burned her fingers.

“This is ridiculous,” she tells the empty room. “I don’t even want this.”

The words echo off the walls, unconvincing. Because she does want something, even if she does not dare name it. Not romance, not flowers and candlelight. "Just acknowledgment," her thought lets it out. Proof that she still exists in someone’s eyes. The thought tugs at her chest.

Her chest tightens. “God, I sound pathetic,” she whispers as she paces to the kitchen.

The tiles are cold beneath her bare feet. She fills a glass of water, sips, then pours it out again without drinking. The restless energy refuses to quit. She glances down the hall; Sophie’s door is shut, muffled music spilling out in a steady rhythm. The sound is reassuring and youthful. Life pulsing behind her closed door.

Bella envies it, surprisingly. She shakes her head in disbelief.

She leans against the counter, crossing her arms. “You’re forty-two, not fossilized,” she tells herself. But even her pep talks come out as tired as she is herself.

When she returns to the couch, the laptop sits there: silent, glowing, and smug. She glares at it like it is mocking her restraint.

She lasts five minutes avoiding it before she opens it again.

Still, 0 messages.

“Fine,” she mutters. “Message received,” snapping the laptop shut.

~~~ ~~~

By morning, coffee refuses to help. Not even her strongest brew. She scrolls through work emails, her eyes blurring over them, but a particularly passive-aggressive thread about deadlines forces her to push.

In between, she sneaks glances at the other tab.

The dating site sits open in the background like a secret she is unable to stop checking.

Nothing new.

Not even spam.

That, somehow, makes it worse. "Even scammers don’t think I'm worth pretending for?" She says out loud in bewilderment.

She shakes her head and laughs humourlessly. “Congratulations, Bella,” she mutters. “You’re officially invisible.”

The phone buzzes: Sophie.

She ignores it.

By noon, her concentration is a lost cause. The screen blurs again, and she slams the laptop shut so hard the coffee cup rattles.

She is done. She is deleting the damn thing tonight. She says to herself.

She has lived twelve years without dating. She can live twelve more years without humiliation. She unconsciously pats herself.

~~~ ~~~

Evening brings Sophie home in a rush of noise: jingling keys, laughter in her voice, and the scent of coffee and vanilla trailing behind her. Bella pretends to be busy at the stove, stirring vegetables that need no stirring.

“Hello, Mother... So?” Sophie says, dropping her bag on the chair. “Any messages?”

Bella grips the spoon tighter. “No.”

“It’s only been a few days...”

“It’s enough,” Bella snaps, louder than she meant, cutting Sophie off. The spoon clatters against the pot. “I told you this wouldn’t work.”

Sophie blinks, caught off guard. “Mom...”

“I said I’d try. I did. And nothing happened. End of story.” She stirs again; now the vegetables are beginning to burn.

Sophie hesitates, then crosses the small kitchen and hugs her from behind, her chin resting lightly on Bella’s shoulder. The contact is soothing.

Sophie smells like city air and coconut shampoo.

“It’s not the end,” Sophie says softly. “You’re just scared it might be the beginning.”

Bella stiffens. The words hit too close to home. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

Sophie stops herself from pushing further. She just squeezes Bella before letting go, her warmth lingering long after she steps away.

Bella turns off the stove. “Dinner’s ready,” she says quietly.

But neither of them really eats.

~~~ ~~~

Night settles deep.

The apartment is filled with silence again, but softer now. Outside, streetlights pool gold across the floorboards. Bella sits on her bed, laptop open one last time.

She hovers over the 'DELETE ACCOUNT' button. The cursor blinks like a pulse.

Her heart beats in time with it: one, two, three. She whispers, “Goodbye,” and moves to press the button.

Then,

Ping.

The sound is so small, she thinks she imagined it.

Her breath is unsteady.

Another ping; a red notification flashing in the corner.

She freezes, then slowly leans forward.

'YOU HAVE A NEW MATCH'.

Her pulse races. She fumbles with the trackpad, hands trembling.

The screen shifts to a profile: Ethan@Desire_89

A man’s face appears: brown hair, faint stubble, and a smile that seems genuinely warm, not posed. His shirt collar is uneven, and his eyes are crinkled at the corners, like he laughs more than he should. "He looks... mmmh... normal, real." Thinking to herself, she smiles admirably.

Her breath rushes out in a shaky laugh. “Someone actually...”

She stops herself from finishing the sentence. She is afraid to jinx it.

She clicks the message.

~~~ ~~~

“Hello, Mysterious Delight,” it reads.

"I couldn’t resist. Something is intriguing about you. Maybe it’s the fact that in a world where everyone’s out here trying to be seen with photos and filters strong enough to melt a phone battery, you choose to be... a ghost? Now I’m wondering... are you hiding from just us mere mortals, or are you just allergic to the ‘upload’ button?”

Bella reads it twice. Then three more times. Her pulse slams in her throat.

The words lack mockery. They lack pity. They are curious; even though laced with humour, they show interest. The words see her in a way she had not expected to be seen. She keeps pondering on the words as she reads over and over.

Her mouth goes dry.

She sits very still, aware of every sound: the ticking clock, the faint hum of the fridge, and the blood rushing in her ears.

She wants to close the laptop and pretend it did not happen. But she cannot. The message burns there on the screen like a dare.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard.

She types and then deletes. Types again and deletes again.

Finally, she writes:

“Maybe I’m hiding from myself."

She stares at it. It feels too raw. Too exposed.

Her thumb hovers over 'SEND'.

Her heart beats once, twice, and on the third beat,

Click.

And the message whooshes away.

Bella exhales shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart feels wild and alive. The room tilts a little, or maybe that is just adrenaline. She tells herself.

She shuts the laptop halfway, refusing to close it fully. The light from the screen glows through the narrow slit, soft and warming, as though the connection itself refuses to vanish.

She leans back against the headboard, a small smile tugging at her lips.

~~~ ~~~

Hours later, sleep still eludes her.

She keeps checking, telling herself not to.

But she does.

She flips the laptop open once more.

No reply yet.

And still, she feels something strange, a pulse beneath her ribs, like anticipation. Like she is waiting for the start of something that might change everything, even though she is yet to know what it is.

Outside, the city sings its night song, indifferent and endless.

Inside, Bella lies awake, laptop light washing her face, a faint thrill still racing through her veins.

Bella shuts the laptop and presses it against her chest, squeezing her eyes shut.

Somewhere in the city, a stranger now holds her words.

And for the first time in years, she feels visible.

Someone might actually be looking back. She faintly smiles to herself.

"Mom!!!..." Bella jolts back to the present.