How To Avoid Ghosting Txt In Friendships?

During a typhoon alert, Joyce Lane calls me and tells me to pick her up from her company. On the way there, I receive a text from her. "You don't have to pick me up anymore. I'm going to stay over at Fin's place for a few days." I opt not to start anything with her. Instead, I calmly text back, "Okay." In the middle of the night, Finley Jones, Joyce's junior at work, uploads a social media post that's meant for my eyes only. Joyce can be seen huddling against Finley while feeding him some snacks in the photo. The window outside depicts a storm. The caption writes, "It's only befitting for me to tide out the worst weather with the woman I love the most." I leave a like on the photo calmly. Suddenly, Joyce calls me and demands what that like means. I reply coolly, "It means we're breaking up."

The day my daughter was rushed into emergency surgery after a car crash, Richard Herrera's ex, Grace Molina, came back to the country. I called Richard ninety-nine times. He rejected every single one. While Chloe was dying, Richard was shopping with Grace and her son, celebrating the boy's fifth birthday. Then the OR doors flew open. A nurse rushed out. "Mrs. Herrera? Your daughter is crashing. Sign this consent form now. Do you know where Dr. Herrera is? He's the best at this. If he operates, Chloe has a real shot. But we can't reach him." I covered my mouth before I fell apart. My hands shook as I signed. On the 110th call, Richard finally picked up. "Richard, Chloe's hurt. Only you can save her—" A kid's voice cut through the background. "Mr. Herrera, come on! The airplane ride won't start unless all three of us get on. Hurry!" "Selena, I'm handling something important. The hospital has doctors. They can deal with a minor injury. I have to go." Click. The line went dead. Right then, the OR light shut off. The doctor came out, wrecked and exhausted. He looked at me. Then slowly shook his head.

My boyfriend's "best female friend" was angry again. Why? Because for our five-year anniversary, he got a gift just for me—and forgot about hers. Simone Baker threw a complete fit, sobbing and making a huge scene. Scott Tanner immediately blocked me and removed me on Instagram, then changed our matching couple profile pictures. "Girls can be so dramatic," he said. "Once I've calmed her down, we'll switch them back." I reminded him, "That makes a hundred times now." He just smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "I know. I'll make it fast this time." That night, Simone posted a status update: [Your effort was acceptable. You get three days of freedom.] Almost immediately, Scott unblocked me. [Okay, babe. We can put our couple pictures back now.] But then a male account—using my half of the matching photo—sent him a friend request, followed by a single question mark. [Since when are couple photos a group project?]

She’s texting him her heart. But she’s got the wrong number… When Isabel “El” Watson applied for a sales job with her company, she had no idea a jelly donut would explode on her blouse, or that her grumpy boss would practically laugh her out of the interview. Accountants could be salespeople, she was sure of it, even if that jerkface didn’t think so. So when a lady at the local wine festival offers her a sales job on the spot at a new boutique winery, El jumps at the chance. She also jumps at the chance to text with the guy who danced with her at the festival. Life was finally looking up. Boston’s friend, Chad, never should have given Boston’s number to the girl at the wine festival as a joke, but the damage was done. When El sends Boston a text later that night, believing he is Chad, he’s too nice to hurt her feelings by telling her the truth. But there are a few other truths Boston might have thought about: Truth #1: He’s her boss Truth #2: She just accepted a job at his mother’s new winery Truth #3: He’s always had a crush on her Even though Boston is no longer El’s grumpy boss, they still work together at his mom’s winery. And while sparks are flying as they get to know each other for real, El’s kind of sweet on the guy who always seems to know just what to say via text too. Obviously, things will come to a head. Will Boston come clean about the flirty texts being from him? Or will El figure out on her own that she’s been Texting With the Enemy?

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message. [Let's break up.] A second later, he replied, [OK.] Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth. "You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?" "Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him." I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. "Because he never listens to my voice messages." I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages. For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for. I had grown used to his cold nature long ago. Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa. In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years. And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

On New Year's Eve, a message from my best friend, Lily Walton, popped up. [I rented a Maybach for our cats to go back to our hometown. A thousand per person. It has heating and surveillance. Isn't that a great deal?] I glanced at my banking app, where my mortgage had just been deducted. [Forget it. My Mochi isn't a princess. She can't afford such an expensive ride.] The next day, I got a selfie from her—hugging her pet cat inside a Maybach. [Chloe, it's such a shame you didn't come. The owner was nice enough to give me a ride home too.] On New Year's evening, right after I stepped through my front door, a frantic knock came at the door. My best friend's parents stood outside, panic written all over their faces. "Is Lily here? She hasn't come home at all. She said yesterday she was preparing a birthday gift for you and even took four thousand dollars from us." Before I could even recover from the shock, the police arrived. My best friend's last contact… was me.