Unspoken—
I never thought a random group chat would change my life.
It started with Zuni. She texted me one night, saying, “Hey, I’m adding you to a fun GC on Snap. Everyone’s chill. Come vibe.”
I was bored, tired of the same routine arguments at home, and the thought of meeting new people seemed like a good distraction. So I joined. Just like that. One tap and I was inside a whirlwind.
The group was chaotic. Memes flying, weird debates about pineapple on pizza, anime rants, “rate my art” spams, and someone constantly playing sad songs. That someone… was her.
She didn’t talk to me much at first. Actually, we kind of fought. Petty, meaningless stuff. I said “hi” in the group, she ignored. Then I said, “New people have no manners?”
She clapped back: “I don’t talk to strangers.”
I remember staring at that message longer than necessary.
And I replied, “Then why are you in a group full of strangers?”
The others laughed. Someone named Hamza sent popcorn emojis. Zuni texted me privately saying, “Why are you always fighting with her?”
I said, “She’s dramatic.”
And then someone – I think Huda – sent a message: “Why do you two bicker like a married couple?”
We both gagged in disgust. “Ew, never,” she typed.
“Kill me first,” I added.
And yet, even then, I found myself watching her texts more than anyone else’s.
But groups fade. People left. Ghosted. Life moved on. The group died quietly.
Months passed. I forgot the usernames, the inside jokes, everything… except her. Not completely. There was a blur of her laugh through text, the poetry she shared late at night, and her love for drawing broken hearts.
Then one day… there she was.
I was scrolling through Snap. Quick Add. That familiar ID blinked at me like a glitch in time. My heart stopped. Was it really her?
Before I could overthink it, I got a request.
From her.
I stared at it for a minute.
Accepted.
“Hey,” she texted. “You remember me?”
“I was waiting for you,” I said.
It was true. Somewhere deep down, I’d been hoping she’d reach out again.
“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” she said.
“Forget the girl who made fun of my name and argued with me on day one? Not a chance.”
She laughed. That soft, digital laugh in the form of an emoji, but I felt it. We talked more that night. And the night after. And the one after that. It wasn’t long before we found out how alike we were. We both loved anime, both drew when our minds needed quiet, both hated the same types of people. She became my favorite notification. The kind that made me forget about the rest of the world for a while.
We talked like old friends and strangers all at once. It started slow. Art. Anime. Rants about food. Then deep stuff. Pain. Pressure. Family chaos.
She told me things no one else knew. I listened. And told her mine.
I remember once she said, “You feel like home but not the kind I grew up in. The kind I always wished I had.”
I wanted to tell her then. That I loved her. But I didn’t. I was scared. Scared she’d leave. Scared I’d lose my only safe place.
And then... her family found out. They thought we were dating. When my messages were on pending I realized “They blocked me.”
My heart dropped.
Gone. Just like that.
A year passed. Not a day went by I didn’t miss her.
Then I saw her again. Same ID. Same profile. I added her. She accepted.
We talked again. This time, we weren’t enemies or strangers. We were two people who had known loneliness, who had held it in our chests like secrets.
But something was different.
From there, we became each other’s safe space. I ran from my home because my parents tried to force me into marrying someone I didn’t love — my cousin. She listened to me, comforted me, held my broken pieces together. And I did the same for her.
She said, “I’m engaged now.”
I felt the ground slip under me. “Congrats,” I typed.
Two days passed. I avoided the topic, but it ate me alive every time she mentioned his name. I was cold. Distant. Maybe rude.
She asked, “Do you like me? Is that why you’re acting weird?”
I wanted to lie. But I couldn’t.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’ve liked you since the second time we talked. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to lose you as a friend too.”
She didn’t reply immediately. Then she said, “It’s too late.”
I felt my chest cave in.
“But if you don’t want to marry him,” I added quietly, “we’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to my parents. I’ll wait.”
And she said… “Let’s see.”
But the world didn’t let us.
One night, her brother snatched her phone. He saw our chats, our pictures. Her family thought I’d ruin her. That I’d leak everything. That I was a threat.
They beat her.
I wanted to burn the whole world down.
For two days, she didn’t defend me. I don’t blame her. She was scared. Broken. Trapped.
On the third day,“He’s not like that,” she told them. “He never saved any of my pictures. He has a sister too. He respects women. He loves me.”
They didn’t believe her at first. They said, “You only knew him for a month.”
But she corrected them. “I’ve known him for more than a 2 years.”
Still, the damage was done.
Her world was falling apart, and I wasn’t there to hold it together.
She stopped replying. Said she had to stay away from me.
I respected it. Because love doesn’t always mean holding on. Sometimes it’s standing far, watching them marry someone else, and still praying they smile.
Now,
I’m learning how to live without her. Even though every part of me still loves her. Even though I still wait for her message, knowing it will never come.
Maybe in another life, we could’ve had a real chance.
But for now, I’ll keep drawing. Keep hoping.
I never reached out again. She didn’t either.
But if she ever reads this:
I loved you. I still do. And I hope your heart remembers mine when it beats too loud in the silence of a lonely night.
