When the Phone Rings for the Wrong Reasons

She calls whenever she needs something from me.

That’s the pattern.

No message in between, no small talk, no casual “how have you been?”

Just silence… until there’s a requirement. And every time her name flashes on my screen, a part of me still hopes this time it’s different. This time maybe she just wants to talk. This time maybe she remembered me, not the things I can solve.

But the conversation always bends in the same direction.

Slowly, gently, almost innocently… but unmistakably.

It’s like I can predict the moment it’s coming — the slight pause, the shift in tone, and then the ask. And I don’t know what hurts more: the request itself, or the realisation that the call probably wouldn’t have happened without it.

It leaves me wondering what exactly I am to her.

Am I a person she thinks of, or a number she dials?

Is she finding excuses to talk to me because she doesn’t know how to start a normal conversation… or am I fooling myself with that possibility?

Sometimes I try to convince myself that maybe this is her way of staying connected. Some people just don’t know how to show affection directly. Maybe she trusts me more than others. Maybe she leans on me because she feels safe.

And maybe — maybe — needing me is her version of caring.

But then the call ends, and the silence returns.

And in that silence, the truth becomes harder to hide:

if I wasn’t useful, would I even exist in her world?

I don’t get angry at her. I don’t even blame her.

What hurts is that I don’t know how to take it anymore.

Am I being valued or just being convenient?

Is this connection or just a transaction wrapped in familiarity?

And somewhere inside me, a tiny voice whispers that I deserve someone who calls because they miss my voice, not because they need something done. Someone who talks to me without a purpose, without a reason, without a requirement attached.

But until that happens, I’m stuck in this strange space where her calls make me feel wanted for a moment and used right after. And the hardest part is explaining that contradiction —

the ache of hoping she cares,

and the fear that she never really did.