The Things We Never Said

It’s strange how you can know someone for years and still feel like a stranger when it ends.

Meera and I weren’t just best friends — we were soul sisters, or at least, that’s what we used to say. We met in school, grew up together, laughed until our stomachs hurt, cried on each other’s pillows, and shared dreams like secrets.

We promised that no matter what happened, we’d never let distance or time change us.

But promises made in youth don’t always survive adulthood.


---

Where It Started to Slip

It wasn’t a fight. That would’ve been easier, cleaner. At least then there would’ve been a moment to point to — a reason. Instead, it happened slowly.

Life got busier. She got a new job in a different city. I got into a relationship that consumed more of my time than I expected. We missed each other’s calls. Conversations became shorter. Birthday wishes became texts instead of phone calls.

But the love never left. It just… went quiet.

I remember one weekend I traveled to her city for work. I thought about calling her, about grabbing coffee like old times. But I convinced myself she was probably busy. I told myself, “Next time.”

But sometimes, next time never comes.


---

I Thought There Was Time

I always told myself we’d reconnect soon. Maybe I’d visit her. Maybe we’d sit on her old rooftop and talk like we used to. Maybe we’d pour our hearts out like we did when the world still felt simple.

But I waited too long.

One Sunday morning, her brother called.

I hadn’t heard from him in years. His voice was low, heavy. I felt it before he even said the words.

> “She’s gone, Arooj. She didn’t wake up.”



Just like that. No warning. No goodbye. No closure.

I stared at the wall for what felt like hours, my phone still in my hand. The world didn’t stop — cars still passed by, birds still chirped — but mine collapsed into stillness. I kept waiting for someone to say it was a mistake. That she’d call me laughing, saying, “Don’t be dramatic, I’m fine.”

But she didn’t. She never would.


---

The Guilt That Followed

The grief came in waves. But the guilt — that was constant.

Why didn’t I call more? Why didn’t I ask how she was really doing? Why did I think we had forever?

I kept scrolling through our old chats. Her last message was simple:

> “Miss you, idiot.”



I had replied, “Me too. Let’s catch up soon.”

We never did.

Now I visit her old texts like a haunted place — looking for what I missed, wondering if she knew I loved her, even when I didn’t say it enough.

I even typed out a message to her one night. “I wish I had said more.” I never sent it. I just stared at it until the screen went dark.


---

The Things We Never Said

We never talked about how lonely she might have felt in that new city.
We never said, “I need you,” even when we did.
We never admitted we were drifting — we just kept pretending we weren’t.

There’s a special kind of ache in unfinished friendships — the kind that don’t end in anger but in silence.

She never said goodbye, and I never got the chance to say I’m sorry.


---

What I Know Now

If I could say one last thing, I’d say:

> “I’m sorry. For not showing up sooner. For thinking we had time. For every laugh I saved for later.”



But I can’t.

So now, I write letters I’ll never send.
I replay memories that now feel like scenes from another life.
And I whisper her name sometimes, hoping she still hears me.

I light a candle every year on her birthday. I don’t tell anyone why.
That tiny flame reminds me of our quiet friendship — soft, constant, and gone too soon.


---

Final Thought

Don’t wait to say the things that matter.

Because sometimes, the most painful goodbyes are the ones that never happen — just a missed call, an unopened message, and the sound of silence where a voice used to be.

Tell your people you love them — while you still can.