“The Last Message He Never Read”

The Last Message He Never Read

By[Ali Rehman]

I held my phone in trembling hands, the screen glowing softly in the dim light of my bedroom. There it was — the message I had typed out hours ago, words I’d rehearsed over and over in my mind but never dared to send.

“I love you. I always have.”

But I hadn’t sent it. Not yet.

He was asleep now, or so I hoped. I imagined him curled up on the other side of the city, unaware of the confession sitting unread in my drafts folder.

For months, I had kept this secret buried inside me, watching him from a distance, pretending our friendship was enough. But it wasn’t. It never was.

We met in college — two strangers thrown together by chance and circumstance. He was brilliant and kind, the kind of person who lit up a room without trying. I was quieter, more cautious, always afraid to risk the vulnerability that comes with love.

We shared late-night talks, inside jokes, dreams about the future. Yet, I never found the courage to say the words that might change everything.

And then, one day, he left.

Not because of me, not because of anything I did. Life pulled him away — a job offer across the country, a chance to start fresh. We promised to keep in touch, to visit, to not let distance erase what we had.

But distance changed things.

Calls grew less frequent, messages fewer. I watched his social media updates — new friends, new places, new life — while I stayed rooted, frozen in the memory of what could have been.

That’s when I started writing messages I never sent. Love letters trapped in my phone, words I wasn’t sure he deserved to hear or that I was brave enough to say.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, after a particularly lonely day, I opened that draft, reread the message, and hesitated.

Could I risk everything on one text?

My finger hovered over the send button, heart pounding.

But before I could press it, my phone buzzed.

His name.

My breath caught.

I answered.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm but tired.

“Hey,” I whispered, tears prickling.

We talked for hours — about work, life, regrets, and dreams. He told me about his struggles, the loneliness he never admitted. I told him about the silence that had haunted me.

And then, hesitantly, I spoke the words I’d kept hidden.

“I love you.”

A pause.

“I love you too,” he said softly.

For the first time, the distance between us felt smaller — not just miles, but years of silence and fear.

We made plans to meet, to bridge the gap between what was and what could be.

But fate had other plans.

The next morning, my phone buzzed again.

A message from him, unread.

A few hours later, I learned he had been in an accident.

He was gone before anyone could reach him, before I could say goodbye in person.

That message, the one he never read, became the last thread of our unspoken love.

I sat with the phone in my hands, tears flowing freely, grief choking my words.

But in that moment, I understood something important — closure isn’t always found in conversations or final goodbyes. Sometimes, it’s in the courage to speak your truth, even if it’s too late to hear it back.

I sent the message at last.

“I love you. I always have.”

And though he never read it, it was enough.

Because love, even when unspoken or unfinished, leaves its mark — a quiet echo that lingers in the heart forever.