The People We Almost Loved

The People We Almost Loved

By [Hasnain Shah]

You never think much about the ones you almost loved.

Not at first.

They blur into the digital fog — faces you swiped left or right on, messages that fizzled into nothing, names that sounded perfect until silence took them.

But sometimes, on slow nights when the world feels like it’s buffering, I scroll back through my old conversations, the ghosts of my own impatience, curiosity, and fear.

It’s strange, the archive of nearlys.

1. Ellie — the girl who loved storms.

She sent me a picture of lightning splitting a purple sky. “Doesn’t it look alive?” she wrote.

We talked for three days about weather, chaos, and the beauty of things you can’t control. I was supposed to meet her on a Friday. She canceled, said her dog was sick. I said it was okay, that we could reschedule. We never did.

A few weeks later, I saw her profile again. Same picture, same storm. I almost messaged her, but something about repetition felt final — like a record skipping on the same song.

2. Sam — the boy who hated coffee.

We bonded over that, because I didn’t drink it either. He called tea “liquid patience,” and I laughed because it sounded poetic and true.

He was an early riser; I was a night owl. Our messages crossed like time zones, always a little offbeat. When we finally agreed to meet, it rained so hard the city drowned in umbrellas. I stayed home, waiting for the storm to pass. He didn’t text again.

A month later, he posted a picture with someone holding a steaming cup of coffee. The caption said: “Learning to like new things.”

3. Lena — the artist who never finished anything.

She sent me photos of canvases half-painted, corners smudged with indecision.

We traded playlists, voice notes, fragments of poems we pretended not to care about. She once said, “I think people are just sketches we never quite complete.”

That stuck with me.

She vanished mid-conversation, like a character walking offstage before her cue. I found out later she deleted the app.

Sometimes I wonder if she ever finished a painting.

4. Jordan — the almost.

We matched in winter. Everything about them felt like quiet warmth — slow replies, long sentences, a kind of patience I didn’t recognize in myself.

They wanted to meet at a bookstore café. I said yes, then got busy. Deadlines, excuses, life. When I finally texted, they didn’t reply.

Two years later, I ran into them on the train. They looked the same, except their smile carried a kind of settled happiness. There was someone waiting for them at the next stop, waving from the platform.

We nodded, and that was enough.

I used to think love was about grand moments — sparks, chemistry, cinematic timing. But maybe it’s also about the things that almost happened, the soft threads that never tied into knots.

Each of them changed me in tiny, invisible ways. Ellie made me love storms. Sam made me patient. Lena made me curious. Jordan made me kinder.

Maybe we don’t lose people — maybe we absorb them.

Last week, I redownloaded the app after a year offline. My thumb hovered over the screen, the same endless carousel of strangers, smiles, and filtered hope.

Then I saw a familiar face.

Ellie. Different photo. This time, a quiet lake at dawn. The sky calm.

I thought about what I could say.

“Hey, still love storms?” felt too sentimental.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” too forward.

Instead, I just stared at her bio: ‘Still looking for someone who loves the sound of rain.’

I smiled. I swiped right.

And this time — this time, we matched.

We’ve been talking for a week now. It feels both new and familiar, like revisiting a city where you once got lost and finally knowing the way around.

Maybe it won’t become love. Maybe it’ll just be another name, another almost.

But maybe — and this is the thing that keeps me hopeful — maybe every almost is just a rehearsal for the one that finally stays.

So I close the app, watch the rain slide down my window, and whisper a quiet thank-you to all the people I almost loved.

Because without them, I might never have been ready for the storm again.