September came with rain and deadlines. The city felt heavier, slower, like it was holding its breath. Elia had stopped waiting for Kael's texts—but she hadn't stopped hoping.
They hadn't spoken since her birthday. Not really. A few likes on her stories. A "seen" on her message. But no words. No calls. No rooftop nights. No playlists.
She told herself it was just a phase. That maybe he was overwhelmed. That maybe he needed space.
But space, she realized, was just another word for absence.
She tried reaching out again.
> "Hey, I miss you. Are you okay?"
No reply.
She waited a day. Then two. Then a week.
Still nothing.
She started noticing things.
He was online. But not with her.
He posted memes. Replied to comments. Tagged friends.
But never her.
She saw him in the hallway once. He looked past her. Not through her—past her. Like she was a stranger. Like she hadn't once cried on his shoulder. Like she hadn't once memorized the way his voice cracked when he talked about his mom.
It hurt.
Not like a stab.
More like a slow unraveling.
She stopped sketching. Her sketchpad stayed closed for days.
She stopped listening to his playlist.
She stopped checking his stories.
But her heart didn't stop asking:
> "What did I do wrong?"
She replayed every moment. Every message. Every silence.
She wondered if she'd said too much. Or not enough.
She wondered if he'd met someone else.
She wondered if he ever thought about her at all.
One night, she typed a long message.
> "I don't know what happened. I just know it hurts. I miss you. I miss us. If you don't want to talk anymore, just say it. I'll understand. I just need to know."
She stared at it for an hour.
Then deleted it.
Because ghosting isn't about answers.
It's about the absence of them.
And silence?
Silence is cruel.
It doesn't give closure.
It gives confusion.
She cried that night. Not loudly. Just quietly.
The kind of crying that feels like drowning in your own thoughts.
She didn't tell anyone.
Not her stepmom. Not her cousins.
Because how do you explain heartbreak when there was never a label?
Kael wasn't her boyfriend.
But he was more than a friend.
He was her almost.
Her maybe.
Her what-if.
And now, he was her ghost.