"I didn't realise it was the last time.
I would've stayed a little longer..."
The clock hit 2:00 a.m.
The room was quiet — the kind of silence that wasn't peaceful. Just empty.
She wasn't asleep. She hadn't even tried.
The glow of her phone screen lit her face, faint and blue, highlighting the tired in her eyes as she stared at the one chat that hadn't moved in over a year.
No typing bubble.
No new message.
Just his name. Still there.
Still unread.
Still… him.
She knew he wasn't coming back.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
But she still opened the chat — not to text, not to scroll.
Just to feel that ache again.
Like poking a bruise you know won't heal, but still need to check if it hurts.
It did.
The draft she never sent was still there.
It just said:
"Are you still out there?"
No context.
No start.
No end.
Just like them.
She shifted under the blanket, pulling it up to her chin, curling tighter into herself.
Not because it was cold — but because she didn't know how else to feel held.
Her eyes stung, not from tears, but from staring too long — at the screen, at the memories, at the version of herself she barely recognized anymore.
It wasn't just about him.
Not really.
It was about what she became after he stopped showing up.
And just like that, her mind drifted back —
to the beginning of the end.
FLASHBACK — 10 Months Ago
It didn't fall apart all at once.
It was slow.
Like watching a sunset you didn't realize was your last.
Little changes at first — fewer messages, shorter calls, new excuses.
He stopped checking in.
She started checking the clock.
Every evening, she'd wait for that message.
And when it didn't come, she'd send one herself.
"Hey. You okay?"
Sometimes it would take hours.
Sometimes he'd reply with just an emoji, or a one-word answer.
But she kept texting.
Because that's what you do when you care.
You try.
Even when it hurts.
"I miss us."
"You've been distant lately. Talk to me."
She would stare at those messages for a long time before hitting send.
Then wait.
Hope.
Deny.
Then one night… it happened.
She typed something — nothing too big. Just:
"I really need to talk to you."
And hit send.
But instead of "delivered," the message just… sat there.
Sending…
No double tick.
No "seen."
No reply.
She thought maybe it was a network issue.
Refreshed the screen. Checked her signal.
But deep down, she knew.
That wasn't a glitch.
That was him.
Gone.
Gone... forever.
🖤 End of Chapter 1