*PAGES WE NEVER WROTE*
*SHORT STORY BY*
*ELWIN MUNATSIRE*
I met her in 2016
She wasn't just a girl—I swear, she felt like the reason love existed. The first time I saw her, something quiet shifted inside me.We started talking. Laughing.Chatting until late hours like the night wasn't meant for sleep but for getting to know each other's hearts.
A few months in, she invited me to her house—for the first time. It was her birthday.
I remember walking into the store, picking out a necklace with care. Nothing too expensive. But meaningful. Something that said "You matter to me." I added Chocolate and some ice cream to the mix. Her favorite flavor—vanilla.
When I got to her house, she opened the door herself. And God, she looked beautiful. Not just in DT and soft top, but in the way she smiled when she saw me—like she was genuinely happy I came.
She gave me a long hug.
For a moment, we didn't say anything. We just stood there, holding on, as if time had paused just for us.
We went inside. Talked. Laughed. She opened the gifts and smiled, genuinely surprised.
Then we kissed. Slowly at first. Then with all the unspoken feelings we had been hiding.
We went into a room. No one disturbed us. We were alone, young, and in love.
We kissed some more. Touched. Explored each other gently.
But we didn't have sex.
We didn't need to. That moment, even without going all the way, felt full—like real intimacy was more than just bodies.
After a few hours of quiet bliss, I went back home with her scent still on my hoodie.
It happened again a few weeks later.
Same pattern. Same room. More love. Still no sex.
We respected the pace, not because we were afraid, but because our bond didn't depend on it.
I believed this was it—our story. One that would lead to forever.
But then things changed.
She got accepted at Midlands State University.
At first, I was happy for her. I celebrated her win like it was mine.
We promised to keep talking. To hold on.
But little by little, she started to drift.
Texts came slower. Calls felt rushed. "Assignments," she'd say. "I'm tired."
I tried to understand. I told myself, she's just overwhelmed with school.
But then, it happened.
One afternoon she posted a video paWhatsApp status yake akaberekwa nemumwe mukomana akanyora kuti
"Na - - - - - - - wangu smiling
My stomach tightened. I blinked. Maybe I misread. Maybe it was a joke. But it wasn't.
I replied:
"Ko uyo wakuti na - - - - wangu ndiyani?"
She took her time responding.
"Aaah, he's just a friend 😊"
No caption could prepare me for that.
Then she tried to reach out to me on WhatsApp. She texted. She called. But I didn't pick up. I ignored everything.
I was heartbroken… and angry.
I went silent—for three months.
Three months of pretending I was okay. Of walking through life like a ghost.
I stopped writing. I stopped laughing. I stopped feeling like myself.
Then one day, I texted her
Not to fight. Not to beg.
Just to see—if maybe, somehow, we could still fix things.
She looked different. Or maybe I just saw her differently.
That day, without many words, I knew.
The story of Me and Her had ended.
Years passed. I moved on.
I got married. Built a life. Smiled in pictures. Played husband, father, man.
But there are nights I went through old memories
Nights I wonder if she thinks of me.
If she remembers the birthday with the necklace and the vanilla ice cream.
If she misses how we kissed in silence.
She's still single.
And me?
I still have feelings for her.
I don't regret loving her.
I regret losing something that felt like magic.
But maybe some love stories aren't meant to last.
Maybe they're meant to stay unfinished…
so we never forget how deeply we were once loved.
*The End*😉