The Last Message Before Goodbye

I have no idea why I clicked on the message that night. Perhaps it was the silence or the way the dusk gently streamed through the window, illuminating my room with melancholy and gold. All day, I had ignored it. When the notification finally arrived, I saw the word "Final" and my stomach dropped.

Hours later, I sat by myself with my phone quivering a little in my hand—not from vibration, but from my own hesitation—as the sun hung low on the horizon.

Her name, Zanaib , remained unaltered in my contacts. Once, that little yellow heart had significance. Since blue was the only hue that appeared to be light, we used to joke that it was her favorite.

And she was gone now.

Not literally, not yet, but in all other respects that were significant. Like the gentle oranges and pinks in that sky outside, our friendship had been waning for months. We switched from talking every day to checking in once a week. From lengthy conversations at midnight to icy quiet.

Although neither of us acknowledged it, we both knew it was taking place. She then claimed to need space yesterday. I pretended it didn't hurt and urged her to take as much time as she needed. To be honest, I didn't know what she meant when she said "space." Perhaps a day or two, I thought.

Then that last communication arrived.

I opened it with a tap. Slowly.

"I knew I would cry if I tried to express this face-to-face. You served as my comfort, my light, and my mirror. However, mirrors can break. And before they bleed trying to fix them, folks should go.

I'm letting go.

With love instead of hate.

Look after your heart.

Someone who never gives up is what you deserve.

final.

My throat constricted. I read it over and over again. I wasn't blocked by her. didn't unfollow. All she did was say good-bye. gracefully. in a definitive manner.

Someone who didn't do things halfway was Zanaib. She made peace with that message. Her resolution. However, it felt to me like poetry wrapped around an earthquake.

When the sun eventually sank behind the city skyline, I watched with my head resting on the cool window glass. Unaware of the storm within me, the outside world appeared to be untouched.

I recalled that it had been more than two years since our initial text exchange. We ended up talking for hours after connecting over a stupid meme. In her messages, you could hear the type of humor she had. She had a better understanding of me than I did.

Maybe we grew up. Maybe we grew apart. Maybe we just stopped fighting for something that no longer fit.

Still, I hated how things ended—not with a bang, not with a fight, but with a sunset and a text.

I didn’t reply. Not yet. Some goodbyes are complete on their own. But I knew I would, eventually. She deserved that.

I placed my phone on the table and stared out the window. A tear slipped down my cheek—not from pain, but from the weight of what we once had.

The room was quiet.

But I sensed a change somewhere in that quiet. I understood that her letter was a gift rather than merely a farewell. It allowed me to let go as well. Stop trying to change the conclusion so that our conversations don't keep repeating.

Some of the chapters are short. Before we're ready, some end.

However, brief stories can also be charming.

I closed the message, my fingers trembling. One tear trickled down my cheek as I said her name into the emptiness: "Zanaib."

When she departed, she wasn't upset. She fell in love with her.

And sometimes the hardest goodbyes are the most tender, kind, and considerate ones.