Chapter 12: The Diary Call

Chapter Twelve

That night, I got a call from an unknown number.

I was curled up on my bed, scrolling through TikTok, when the phone buzzed. I almost ignored it, but something made me answer. The AC hummed in the background.

Without thinking, I answered.

The line was quiet for a second, then a familiar voice broke the silence.

"...Natalie."

It was Derek. His voice was rough, like he hadn’t slept. My stomach twisted.

It was Derek, probably with a new number.

He’d always been stubborn—if I blocked him, he found another way. I sighed, bracing myself.

"...Are you done yet?"

I tried to sound bored, flipping through a magazine. I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

I was about to hang up.

My thumb hovered over the End Call button, but his next words made me pause.

"Wait, listen to me!"

His voice was pleading, desperate. I hesitated, just for a second.

Derek pleaded.

The silence stretched. I could hear him breathing, could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us.

I was silent.

I let the silence hang, waiting for him to say something worth hearing.

"I... I read that diary."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

After a while, a hoarse voice came from the phone.

He sounded broken, the bravado gone. I pictured him hunched over his desk, clutching my old diary like a lifeline.

My mind went blank for a moment, then I realized Derek was talking about my diary.

The pink, sparkly one I’d kept since I was ten—filled with secrets, hopes, and pages of him.

I only had one diary, given to me by Derek when I was ten. I treasured it and wrote in it for years.

It had a lock I never used, heart stickers on the cover, and my worst handwriting inside. I kept it hidden in my closet, safe from prying eyes—at least, I thought I had.

That diary carried years of affection. I recorded every detail of my time with Derek, every moment I liked him.

Every birthday, every fight, every stupid inside joke. It was my longest love letter, never meant to be read.

I even fantasized that after we got married, I’d give him this diary as my long confession.

I dreamed about the look on his face when he finally knew—really knew—how much he meant to me.

"...Didn’t I throw it away?"

My voice was barely a whisper. I remembered tossing it in the box, hating myself for it even as I did.

I was stunned.

I pressed the phone to my ear, waiting for his answer. My heart pounded, hope and dread warring inside me.

"I picked it up that day," Derek’s voice trembled. "Sorry, Natalie, I read your diary. I didn’t know you liked me so much. Sorry, I ignored your feelings all this time. Actually, I regretted hitting you that day... I..."

His words tumbled out, raw and messy. I closed my eyes, letting them wash over me.

"All these years, I never just saw you as a sister..."

His confession was shaky, uncertain. I waited, breath held, for him to finally say the words I’d waited years to hear.

"Derek."

I cut him off, voice gentle but firm. I wouldn’t let him rewrite the past—not now.

"What day did you pick up my stuff?"

I wanted the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

He fell silent.

The line crackled. I could hear the TV in the background, the faint sound of his mom cooking dinner.

"It’s been days, right?" I laughed. "So why did you only call me about it tonight? Was it because you just opened it today?"

My laughter was bitter, tinged with pain. I already knew the answer.

"I..."

He hesitated, the truth heavy in his silence.

His voice was weak.

For the first time, he sounded young—like the boy I used to know.

"Because you’ve been ‘dating’ lately, you felt threatened, and thought your position was really at risk. So only today, after a few months, you finally decided to open that dusty diary, right?"

I said it softly, not accusing—just stating a fact. He didn’t deny it.

"Natalie, it’s not like that..."

His voice was muffled, barely audible. I didn’t let him finish.

I didn’t listen to his excuses. My tone was gentle.

I wanted him to understand, but I needed to protect myself first.

"Derek, you should know—a late apology and confession can’t make up for the past. It just makes the remaining memories seem even more out of place."

The words hurt to say, but they were true. I couldn’t go back—not now.

"That diary doesn’t mean anything now. You should throw it away."

I let the silence settle, heavy and final.

"Don’t call me again. Don’t look for me. It’s really annoying."

I hung up.

The phone felt hot in my hand. The call ended with a click. I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling both empty and free.