My ex had been gone for five months. No contact, no dramatic breakup reunion, no accidental meetings at coffee shops.
I was finally moving on.
I met someone on Hinge who was charming, thoughtful, and refreshingly direct. We had been dating for a few weeks when he invited me over for dinner.
We cooked together, made a mess of his kitchen, and spent most of the evening arguing over whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
Later, he kissed me beside the kitchen counter.
I had forgotten how good it felt to want someone without also wanting an apology from them.
We ended up on the sofa, kissing until we were both breathless and laughing at how the dinner we'd made was still sitting untouched on the table.
Then my phone lit up.
My ex.
“Hey. Been thinking about you.”
I stared at the screen. The timing was so absurd that I almost laughed.
The man beside me noticed my expression and asked if everything was okay.
I told him who it was.
He didn't demand to see the message. He didn't act territorial. He just asked, “Do you want to answer?”
I looked at the text again and realised I didn't.
I put my phone face down and kissed him.
Not to make my ex jealous. Not to prove I had moved on.
Because, for the first time in months, I actually wanted to be where I was.
My ex never got a reply.
The new guy got breakfast with me the next morning.
Much better use of my time.