I didn't mean to notice it.
That was the problem.
Ava had always been quiet in her own way — comfortable silence, easy laughter, the kind you didn't question. But tonight, it was different. Like she was present, but not really here.
Claire was the one who said it first.
"She's really important to you, isn't she?"
We were walking back to my place, her hand brushing mine every now and then. I glanced at her. "Who?"
"Ava."
I laughed. "Yeah. She's my best friend."
Claire hummed. "I figured."
"You figured what?"
"That she knows you better than anyone."
I shrugged. "She's known me forever."
"That's not what I meant."
I stopped walking. "Then what did you mean?"
Claire turned to face me, studying my expression like she was choosing her words carefully. "When you talk to her, you don't explain yourself."
"Why would I?"
"Exactly."
I frowned. "You're overthinking it."
"Maybe," she said easily. "But she looked uncomfortable tonight."
That caught my attention.
"Uncomfortable how?"
"I don't know," Claire said. "Like she was trying to be fine."
Ava always tried to be fine.
"She didn't say anything," I replied.
Claire smiled softly. "She wouldn't."
That stuck with me more than it should have.
Later, when Claire left, I stood alone in my kitchen, staring at my phone. Ava's name sat there, waiting. I typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Me: You were quiet today. Did I do something?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Ava hated being asked what was wrong. Always had.
My phone buzzed again.
Ava: No. I'm fine. Just tired.
There it was.
That answer.
The one she gave when she didn't want to talk.
I leaned against the counter, replaying the evening in my head. Her smile. The way she'd laughed at the right moments but not the wrong ones. The way she hadn't teased me like she usually did.
I hadn't touched her once.
That thought surprised me.
Normally, I would've nudged her shoulder, pulled her into a side hug, something familiar. Tonight, I'd hesitated.
Why had I hesitated?
My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Claire.
Claire: Did I say something wrong?
I stared at the screen.
Across the room, Ava's mug still sat on the counter — untouched, exactly where she'd left it earlier.
"No," I muttered to myself. "Nothing's wrong."
But the quiet felt heavier than usual. Like something had shifted without asking permission.
I typed back to Claire.
Me: No. You're fine.
Then, without thinking, I opened Ava's chat again and typed:
Me: Are you sure?
I hovered over send.
And for the first time since I could remember, I wasn't sure which answer I wanted.