"They say love is about touch.
About presence.
About moments shared face to face.
But they've never known what it's like…To fall for someone who understood your silence Better than anyone ever understood your words."
She didn't enter my life like a thunderstorm.
There were no fireworks.
No slow-motion glance in a crowded hallway.
No fate-struck drama under falling cherry blossoms.
She came in gently.
Like the first snow at 3AM.
Like a breeze that wraps around you before you even know it's cold.
Soft.
Unexpected.
Unforgettable.
Her name was Serin.
And she had this quiet way of saying my name like it meant something.
Like I was someone worth listening to.
She didn't just hear the words I said —She listened to the pauses, The spaces between each line, The breaths where I tried to hide everything I didn't know how to say.
In a world that always felt too loud, Too fast, Too much —She was peace.
She was silence —Not the kind that made you feel lonely, But the kind that made you feel safe.
We never met in person.
No hand-holding.
No glances across desks.
No matching bracelets or shared bus rides.
But still —She felt more real than anyone I had ever held.
We laughed at 1 AM about the dumbest things.
We shared playlists like they were love letters.
Named songs after memories.
Promised forever without ever saying the word.
And somehow…..That was enough.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't traditional.
But it was ours.
A small, fragile universe built between Wi-Fi signals and pixelated screens.
But God, was it beautiful.
Maybe that's why it hurt so much…When the world decided to end it.
Because love doesn't always break because of lies.
Sometimes it's just…dismantled.
By parents.
By fear.
By rules written in a language our hearts never learned to speak.
One day, she was there.
The next…She wasn't.
Not because she wanted to leave.
Not because we fought.
Not because the love faded.
But because…
She wasn't allowed to stay.
Since then, I've been living in the echoes she left behind.
The empty seconds in my day where her voice used to be.
The songs that still carry her laugh in the background.
The silence that feels too loud — even when the city is wide awake.
I don't hate her.
I never could.
I never will.
I just…miss her.
And every night at 2 AM, when the world is fast asleep and the memories won't stop Screaming, I whisper her name into the dark.
Like a prayer never meant to be answered.
"Serin…"
Like a secret the night keeps safe.
But will she ever hear it again?
Or
Was I always meant to echo alone ?
"I didn't know a single misfired text could become the most painful goodbye of my life."