Out of the blue, I got a text from my soon-to-be ex-wife. Honestly? I didn’t expect to hear from her for a long time—like a solid month and a half had passed, and the silence had started to settle in as the new normal. So yeah, it felt kind of nice to hear from her again, like an old familiar song you forgot you liked… until you remembered how the lyrics made you feel.

But as I read her message, something felt off. It was vague. No clear reason, no specific ask, just a sort of open-ended “hey.” I sat there wondering—What does she want? Why now? What’s the point of this message if it’s not saying anything?

That’s when it hit me.

She still hadn’t learned to be direct with me. Still speaking in half-hints and open doors I had to walk through first. I didn’t want to assume, so I replied gently, asking something like, “Anything specific, or just wanting to catch up in general?”

Deep down, though, my gut was already whispering: She wants to talk about health insurance stuff. And boom—her next message confirmed it. She said she wanted to talk about healthcare and catch up.

Then she added something else—something about her MS medication. That it had passed the date. That’s why she needed to talk. And just like that, more pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

But it also stirred more questions than answers.

Did she forget her appointment for MS meds? Did she put it off on purpose? Delay it? Was she scared? I didn’t ask—figured we’d talk about it face to face on the upcoming call. But of course… that call never happened.

She mentioned she wasn’t feeling well—wicked sore throat. I told her we could FaceTime when she felt better. She said maybe this weekend—Saturday the 23rd or Sunday the 24th. I agreed. I hoped we’d finally get to talk, like really talk, and wrap things up—close some doors or open new ones, I didn’t know.

But the weekend passed.

No call. No FaceTime.

Instead, another message came. “Can we do it sometime this week when I’m fully recovered?”

And again… I agreed. Of course I did.

She thanked me. And that was that.

But you know what I realized, sitting there in the space between her messages?

I’m always waiting. Always interpreting. Always trying to read between the lines because she still won’t write them clearly. It’s like I’ve been given puzzle pieces with no picture to guide me—and I’m just supposed to guess what it’s supposed to look like.

She reached out. She had a chance to say what she needed, what she felt. And yet, I still found myself doing the emotional labor of putting the pieces together.

I don’t know if she even realizes that. Or if she ever will.

But I do now. I see it clearly: her true colors aren’t cruel or malicious. They’re just… incomplete. Unwilling or unable to show up fully. And maybe that’s worse. Because you keep hoping for more. Hoping they’ll fill in the rest.

And despite all that—I still care. I still want her to be okay.

I just hope that one day, she’ll be able to tell me plainly what she needs. Not in riddles. Not in vague “catch ups.” Just real talk. I hope she knows I would help her. I want to help her.

I even told her last time that I want her to stay on our health insurance so she can get her MS medication. That wasn’t just a courtesy—it was care. Real, intentional care. I wish she saw that.

I guess I’d just really appreciate it if—when she is feeling better—she reaches out and actually finishes what she started. So we can finally say the things that have gone unsaid.

And maybe, just maybe, walk away with clarity instead of confusion.

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What do you do when someone keeps giving you half-answers but expects full understanding?

Have you ever felt like someone reached out, not to reconnect, but to keep the door slightly ajar—just enough to keep you hoping?

How do you tell the difference between someone who’s uncertain… and someone who just doesn’t have the courage to be honest?