She Left, But Her Love Never Did

I first met her in high school. She wasn’t just another girl in the hallways—she was my best friend’s younger sister, always tagging along at school events. At first, she was just a familiar face, but then we started talking. And talking. And talking.

Back then, life was different. There was no Instagram, no TikTok, no Snapchat to keep us connected. Cell phones weren’t as common, and texting wasn’t as instant as it is now. Viber was our go-to, and I still remember the day she gave me her landline number. It’s funny how something so small can become etched in your memory forever.

At first, we were just friends. Late-night calls turned into daily rituals, our conversations stretching for hours about everything and nothing at all. I could talk to her about my dreams, my fears, the stupid things that happened at school, and she would listen—really listen. She had this way of making the world feel lighter, like I could breathe easier just by hearing her voice.

A year later, when Viber finally introduced video calls, I saw her face on my screen for the first time. It was surreal. Her smile, the way she rolled her eyes when I said something dumb, the way she laughed—it all felt so real, even though she was miles away.

Then came graduation, and life pulled us in different directions. I stayed in our hometown for college, while she moved to Canada for school. I wanted to see her before she left, but life got in the way. Flights, schedules, last-minute changes—everything worked against us. And just like that, she was gone.

But distance? It didn’t change a thing.

We talked every day. Time zones didn’t matter—we made time. She would tell me about the freezing Canadian winters, the way the city lights looked at night, how much she missed home. I would tell her about my classes, about the new people I met, and about how nothing felt the same without her here. We never questioned our love, never doubted each other. Loyalty wasn’t even a conversation—it was just us, against the odds, against the miles.

Eight years passed like this. Eight years of loving someone across a screen, waiting for the day we wouldn’t have to anymore.

That day was finally coming. For her birthday, she had planned to come back to the U.S. It was all we talked about—how we would finally get to see each other in person, how it would feel to stand face to face after all this time. I imagined picking her up from the airport, seeing her walk toward me, hugging her like I never wanted to let go.

But life is cruel.

A week before her flight, she went on a hiking trip with some friends. The last time we talked, she was excited—she told me she’d call me when she got back. Before hanging up, she smiled at the camera, blew me a kiss, and said, “See you soon.”

Then the call ended.

Her phone must have died, I told myself. She’d call later.

But later never came.

A week passed before I got the news.

On the way back from their trip, her car skidded on an icy road. It veered off the highway, tumbling down a steep hill. She died instantly.

Two days before her birthday. Two days before she was supposed to come home to me.

I don’t remember much after that. I remember the silence. The way my body felt numb, like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. I remember looking at my phone, scrolling through our old messages, listening to old voicemails just to hear her voice again. I remember staring at our last video call, frozen on the screen—her face, her smile, that last moment before everything changed.

It’s been eight years since she left this world. People say time heals everything, but that’s a lie. I’ve tried to move on, tried to meet other people, tried to open my heart again. But every time, it feels wrong—like I’m betraying something sacred.

On nights when I miss her the most, I step outside and look up at the sky. There’s always one star that shines brighter than the rest.

I like to think it’s her.

This is the first time I’m sharing this story publicly. It will be part of my upcoming book, not because I want sympathy, but because I want people to understand—true love doesn’t need lust, doesn’t need conditions. It’s just two hearts, bound together, no matter the distance.

And today… today is her birthday.

Happy birthday, my love. ❤️💫