That’s what he called me.
“There she is, Miss Whispers herself.”
He’d say it like a joke, like something sweet.
Like it was something that made people laugh without fully knowing why.
And I laughed, too. Sometimes. Because pretending not to care was easier than crying.
So, when I saw him again at 32, standing in line at a coffee shop, I immediately froze.
I hadn’t seen him in over a decade, but somehow, my body knew who he was before my mind could confirm it.
But it was the same jawline, the same posture, and the same presence…
I turned, instinctively, ready to leave.
Then I heard my name.
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