Dear dairy...
Dear Dairy,
You know, sometimes I wonder if this heart of mine was made to carry so many stories, so many aches, and yet, here I am… still writing, still remembering, still bleeding.
It all started on a random evening when I created a Snapchat group. I added some of my friends just for fun, for laughs, for late-night chats to fill the silence in my room. Days passed and we were all vibing. One day, I got a friend request from a girl named zuni. She seemed sweet. She asked if she could be added to the group, and I said sure. Not long after, she requested to add a friend of hers too—some guy named Saim.
I didn't think much of it. I mean, people came and went in that group all the time. But the moment Saim joined, it was like a firecracker exploded. Our first interaction? A fight. Can you believe that? Over something so silly—I think it was because I didn’t greet him properly. And he took it personally.
“I guess someone forgot their manners,” he texted.
I rolled my eyes and replied, “Or maybe someone is too full of himself to expect greetings.”
From that moment on, it was like we were born to bicker. Every time we talked in the group, it turned into an argument. Others in the group started teasing us. “You two fight like an old married couple,” someone said.
“Ugh, no way,” I replied. “I’d rather marry a rock.”
Saim retorted, “Yeah, and I’d choose a cactus over you any day.”
Despite the tension, there was… something. Something I couldn’t name.
Time passed, and the group started dying slowly. People stopped replying. One by one, they left. I remember one night I messaged, “Where is everyone?”
Zuni replied, “Feels like a ghost town here.”
Even Saim said, “Well, I guess this was fun while it lasted.”
Then, silence.
Weeks turned into months. The group died completely. Everyone was gone. I forgot about it… about them. But then one day, while scrolling through Snapchat’s Quick Add list, I saw a familiar name: Saim. My heart literally skipped a beat. I don’t know why—I mean, we didn’t even get along! But something inside me just… warmed up.
Without thinking, I sent him a request. He accepted.
And that’s when everything changed.
“Long time, troublemaker,” he texted first.
I laughed. “Look who’s talking. I thought you vanished.”
“Maybe I was waiting for a reason to come back.”
That hit differently.
We started talking. And talking. Every single day. Hours. We talked about anime, drawing, music, our hate for the same foods, our love for quiet mornings and chaotic nights. He told me about his family troubles. I told him about mine. We were just friends—best friends even—but it felt deeper. Safer.
Then one day… he was gone. Just like that.
My parents had found out I was talking to him. They assumed we were dating. They didn’t yell or scream. They just took my phone and blocked him. No explanation. No discussion. Just silence. I cried, Diary. I cried until my pillow was soaked. But I didn’t fight back. I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt them.
I moved on. At least, I tried to.
Months later, my engagement got fixed. His name was Adam. A family arrangement. No one asked me. They just… told me. “He’s a good match,” they said. “You’ll learn to love him.”
But how can you force your heart to feel something it doesn’t?
And then… one day… I found Saim again. Same place. Quick Add. This time, my hands trembled before sending the request. But he accepted. Instantly.
His first message: “You disappeared again.”
I replied, “Not by choice.”
We caught up like old times. The comfort was still there. The laughter. The late-night rants. We were both single again. He hadn’t moved on. Neither had I.
Then one night, I told him about my engagement.
“Congrats,” he replied, short.
He typed that, but it felt... cold. Different. He wasn’t himself after that. He’d leave messages on read. He wouldn’t joke the way he used to.
So one night, I asked:
Me: “Why do you act weird whenever I talk about Adam?”
There was a pause.
Saim: “Because I hate hearing his name.”
Me: “Why?”
Saim: “Because I like you. I’ve liked you since the first time we became friends. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid I’d lose you even as a friend.”
Tears fell from my eyes that night. I wished I had known earlier. I wished we had more time.
Me: “Why now, Saim? Why say it now when it’s too late?”
Saim: “Because I couldn't hold it in anymore. But it’s not too late if you don’t want it to be. If you don’t want to marry him, we’ll find a way. Together.”
I didn’t respond right away. I just cried. Because deep inside, I didn’t want Adam. I never did. I was only trying to convince myself that I could love him. That I could learn to love him. But with Saim, I never had to learn. I just…did.
But I didn’t say it. Not then.
And then the worst happened.
My brother snatched my phone mid-conversation. My hands went cold. My heart dropped.
He stormed into the room, yelling my name, his eyes flashing with disbelief and fury. My phone was in his hand — unlocked. Open. Our pictures. Our chats. Every laugh. Every soft confession. All laid bare.
The next few minutes were a blur. My mother’s screams. My father’s silence, heavy like a death sentence. The sting on my skin. My head spinning. The chaos of shame, anger, betrayal… all directed at me. They thought the worst — that Saim would ruin me, use those pictures to shame our family. My dignity, they said, was hanging by a thread.
For two whole days, I didn’t say a single word. I let them believe whatever their hearts feared the most. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was because I thought I deserved the punishment. Maybe I hoped they'd eventually cool down.
But the third day, I couldn’t stay silent anymore. My throat burned with every word I’d been swallowing. With trembling lips and tired eyes, I whispered, “He didn’t save anything… he never would. He has a sister too. He’s not that kind of person.”
They stared. Cold. Disbelieving. My father asked, “How long have you known him? A month?”
I shook my head. “More than 2 years. We were friends first. We became more only recently.”
Their eyes didn’t soften. But they stopped shouting. That was enough. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was the beginning of being heard.
They still questioned everything — why I sent pictures, why I trusted him, why I chose someone they hadn’t picked. And I had no perfect answer. Just that it felt right. He felt right. And that felt like a crime.
They calmed down a little, but the damage was done.
I can’t talk to him now. I can’t even say goodbye.
And here I am… writing this. Crying. Shaking.
They say I’m weak. That I don’t have a strong personality. But is falling in love really a weakness? Is trusting someone completely that wrong?
I’m scared he’s hurting. I know he’s hurting. He once told me if I ever left, he’d break himself. He started smoking because of family stress. He said he’d stop when we got married. And now?
Now I don’t know.
Maybe one day, I’ll see his name again in my Quick Add.
Maybe he’ll send a message.
Maybe I’ll be brave enough to reply.
But for now, I’ll just leave this story here.
Because it started with a fight… and ended in silence.
