Take me back to the night we met
Earphones in her ears, staring at the ceiling, tears running down her face, the music from her phone seemed to mirror the emptiness in her heart.
The lyrics echoed in her mind, “Take me back to the night we met.” Four years, it had been four years... How would he even remember me now? She let the thought linger, heavy and suffocating.
It wasn’t the first time she had thought about reaching out, but this time felt different. There was an ache in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. So, with trembling fingers, she clicked “Add Friend.” It wasn’t a decision made lightly; it was a desperate plea, a hope that he might recognize her, even after all this time.
Fifteen minutes later, he accepted. Her heart skipped a beat. She thought he remembered her, that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t forgotten. The screen in front of her blurred as she stared at his profile picture, her mind racing. Two, three hours passed, and she still couldn’t bring herself to type. Should she say something? Would he even care?
Finally, she sent a simple “Hey?” and immediately regretted it. What if it was too much? What if it was too little? She tossed and turned in bed, too anxious to sleep, until the phone screen flashed with his reply: “Hi.”
A small part of her wanted to scream with excitement. He had responded. But the words felt so cold. The barrier of time and distance was so thick, she wondered if it was even worth trying to break it.
She typed, “How have you been?” The response came so quickly, it almost felt rehearsed. “Good, maybe. And you?” Maybe? The word stung. Was he uncertain? Did he even recognize her anymore?
“Pretty much the same,” she typed, trying to mask the hurt with indifference.
“Good to hear,” he replied. His words felt distant, as if he were talking to someone else, someone he didn’t really know. Did he remember her laugh? The way she’d talk for hours, or the quiet moments they shared?
Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of what to say next. “What are you up to these days?”
“Just trying to leave this country. And you?”
The words felt like a punch. Leave the country? Her heart sank. She had spent so many nights thinking about the life they might have shared, and now, all she could think of was how different everything had become.
“Oh really?” she typed, trying to sound casual, though the words burned her tongue. “I’m just studying. Boards are approaching.”
" Ohh, boards? You study in which grade?” His words were almost an afterthought, like a question he didn’t even care to ask.
She stared at the screen, feeling the world shift beneath her feet. Was this it? Had he really forgotten everything?
“Final year of high school,” she typed, her heart sinking lower with each word. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, too afraid to press send, but the message had already been sent. She was no longer just a name in his memory; she was a stranger.
“Ohh, then why are you here instead of studying?” he joked, the tone light but cutting.
A tear slipped down her cheek. Was she interrupting him? Did he even care? She didn’t know anymore.
She forced herself to type, her words coming out sharper than she intended, “Hmm, I’m studying. Don’t need to remind me.”
“Okay,” came his reply, as simple and indifferent as before.
Her heart shattered quietly in her chest. She pressed the heart emoji, trying to hide the pain she felt behind the small symbol. Maybe he had truly forgotten her. Or maybe, he had never really cared enough to remember.
As she lay back, staring at the ceiling, the music began again, the lyrics haunting her with each beat: “Take me back to the night we met.”
It was a wish, a longing, a love that couldn’t find its way home. And all she had now was a hollow echo of a past that no longer existed.
