The last text my sister ever sent me .

I still remember the exact time—10:27 PM.

I was lying in bed, headphones on, scrolling through my phone with the lights off. The room was quiet except for the low hum of my fan and the occasional ping of a notification. One of those notifications would change my life forever.

It was a text from my sister, Hania.

“Don’t stay mad at me forever. I love you.”

I looked at it for a moment. My thumb hovered over the screen, ready to type something… anything. But I didn’t.

We hadn’t spoken in over two weeks. A silly argument had turned into a silent war. I don’t even remember exactly what we fought about—something dumb like her wearing my clothes without asking. We were always close, but for some reason, this time, I held on to my anger a little longer.

And that night, when she reached out… I stayed silent.

“I’ll reply tomorrow,” I told myself.

But tomorrow didn’t come for her.

That night, she had gone out with her college friends. It was supposed to be a short drive, just to grab something to eat. But they never made it to the restaurant.

At 2:14 AM, my mom’s phone rang. I remember her voice breaking into screams that shattered the silence of our home.

“Hania… accident… she’s not breathing…”

I sat up, heart pounding, ears ringing. Everything after that was a blur — the ambulance, the hospital, doctors shaking their heads, and then… silence. That horrible silence that falls over a room when someone you love isn’t coming back.

She was gone.

Just like that.

I kept checking my phone that morning, reading her last text again and again.

“Don’t stay mad at me forever. I love you.”

The weight of those words hit me harder than anything else. She reached out. She was trying. And I... I was too proud to say anything back.

For days, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face, heard her laugh, remembered our childhood games and midnight talks. I remembered how she used to steal my charger and pretend she didn’t. How she always made the worst tea but insisted on making it anyway.

Now, I’d give anything just to taste that horrible tea one more time.

I couldn’t bring myself to delete the conversation. Her name is still there at the top of my chat list. I still open it sometimes and read her old messages like she’s still around.

That last message? It’s pinned.

Every night before I sleep, I read it.

Sometimes I whisper back, “I’m not mad anymore. I love you too.”

It’s strange how one message—just a few words—can hold so much weight. It was her way of reaching out, her way of saying sorry, her way of saying goodbye.

And I ignored it.

Now, I tell people all the time: never leave things unsaid. Never let your pride be louder than your love. Because you never know which moment could be the last.

I’ve changed since then. I reply right away. I say “I love you” more. I forgive faster. And every time someone close to me texts, I remember Hania. I remember that final text.

Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I had answered.

But maybe, just maybe… she already knew my answer.

Moral of the Story:

Don’t let ego steal your final moments. Sometimes the last thing someone says is the only thing they had the courage to say. And sometimes, silence hurts more than words ever could.

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