Elia used to be the girl Kael talked about.
To his friends. In his captions. In his playlists.
She was the one he teased in group chats. The one he tagged in memes. The one whose name slipped into his stories like a secret he didn't mind sharing.
But lately, she'd been replaced.
It started subtly. A new name in his comments. A girl with bright eyes and a laugh that echoed through his videos. She showed up in his stories—sitting beside him at cafés, leaning into him during group photos, laughing at things Elia used to say.
At first, Elia told herself it was nothing. Just a friend. Just a phase.
But then Kael posted a photo.
A candid shot of the girl sketching something on a napkin.
The caption read:
> "She's got magic in her hands."
Elia stared at it for hours.
She remembered the night Kael had said the same thing to her.
When she'd drawn him under moonlight, and he'd whispered, "You make the world look softer."
Now he was saying it to someone else.
She didn't cry. Not yet.
She just felt… erased.
She scrolled through his feed.
Her name was gone.
Her sketches, her playlists, her rooftop—gone.
She wasn't bitter.
She was just tired.
Tired of being the girl who used to matter.
Tired of pretending she didn't notice.
Tired of watching someone else live the story she thought was hers.
She tried to sketch.
But her hands shook.
She tried to write.
But the words felt hollow.
She tried to listen to his playlist.
But every song felt like a lie.
Her friends noticed.
"You okay?" they asked.
She smiled.
"I'm just busy."
But inside, she was unraveling.
Because being replaced isn't loud.
It's quiet.
It's watching someone else become the punchline to his jokes.
It's seeing your memories recycled with a new name.
She didn't confront him.
She didn't ask.
Because she already knew.
She wasn't the girl in his stories anymore.
She was the footnote.
The background.
The before.
And maybe that hurt more than any goodbye.