Season 1, Episode 7 of "Before She Knew My Heart"
Somewhere between "Good morning" and "Did you reach college?", the replies started slowing down.
It wasn't that Ayla had stopped caring. At least that's what
I told myself.
Maybe she was just busy. Maybe medical college was harder than she expected.
Maybe she was tired. Maybe… she forgot.
But I never did.
Her texts were still the first thing I looked for every morning.Still the last thing I stared at before sleeping.But where once there was a bubble of laughter in every line she typed,
Now there were… just dots.
"Typing…"
And then nothing.
I typed "Hey, how was class?"
Backspaced.
Typed again: "You had anatomy lab today right?"
Deleted it.
Then wrote simply: "Did you eat?"
Sent.
It showed delivered.
But never read.
That blue tick?
It hurt more than I'll ever admit.
Sometimes, she'd post a story — a coffee cup, a classroom, her friends.
And I'd click on it the moment it appeared.
Not to overthink. Just to feel... a little closer.
But the replies I sent to those stories?
Left unseen.
It wasn't her fault, I kept repeating.Maybe I was the clingy one.Maybe I needed to stop expecting so much.Maybe I was the problem.
There was this one night.
It was raining.
I was sitting by the window, just like we used to during our childhood.
I saw the dim lights glowing in her window next door.
Faint shadows moving.
And for a second — just a second — I thought she'd text.
"Come to the balcony."
She didn't.
But I sat there anyway.
Soaking in a silence we never used to have between us.
And yet… every morning, I still texted her.
Not long paragraphs. Not emotional confessions.
Just the simple things:
"Don't skip breakfast."
"Wear a scarf, it's cold today."
"Good luck for the lab."
They didn't need replies.
Because I wasn't texting to be heard anymore.I was texting… so she'd never feel alone.Even if she forgot to say it back.
I remember this clearly —One evening, I finally asked:
"Did I do something wrong?"
No reply.But she saw it.
And a day later, she sent:
"No. Just... life's a lot right now."
That was all.
No explanation.No warmth.Just... distance.
But I didn't stop.
Because somewhere, deep down, I still believed that even if she forgot what we were…
I never would.
And maybe —Just maybe —One day, she'd text first.
Not because I asked.Not because I reminded her.
But because she missed me too.