**The Silent Fade**

**The Silent Fade**

Ellie’s phone glowed in the dim light of her apartment, casting shadows on thah. Their last exchange was ten days ago—a playful back-and-forth about their favorite sci-fi movies, ending with his promise to pick a film fore walls. She scrolled through her messages, pausing at the thread with No their next date. Then, nothing. No calls, no texts, no sign of him. The word “ghosted” buzzed in her mind, sharp and cold, like a door slamming shut.

They’d met three months ago through mutual friends at a rooftop party. Noah’s easy smile and quick wit had drawn her in, and their first coffee date stretched into hours of conversation about everything from old vinyl records to their shared love of stargazing. By their fifth date, Ellie felt something real blooming—tentative, but real. They’d spent an evening at the planetarium, lying under a dome of artificial stars, his hand brushing hers. She thought they’d connected. Apparently, she was wrong.

At first, she assumed he was busy. His job as a graphic designer was demanding; he’d mentioned late nights on projects. She sent a light text: *Hey, still alive out there?* No reply. Days passed, and her hope curdled into doubt. Had she misread him? Was their last date—when she’d opened up about her fear of failure—too much? She replayed every moment, searching for the misstep. By day seven, she sent another message, more direct: *Did I do something? Can we talk?* Silence.

Ellie’s best friend, Priya, tried to wave it off over tacos. “Ghosting’s just what people do now. They’re too spineless to say they’re not interested. Don’t take it personally.” But it *felt* personal. The absence of an explanation gnawed at her, leaving her to fill the gaps with self-doubt. She stared at Noah’s last message—*Gotta watch Blade Runner with you soon!*—and wondered how someone could vanish so completely.

Across the city, Noah sat in his cluttered studio, surrounded by sketches and empty coffee cups. Ellie’s texts sat unread in his notifications, each one a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to ghost her. At first, it was just a missed reply—he’d been drowning in deadlines, his anxiety spiking with every new project. He’d planned to respond, to explain, but the longer he waited, the worse it felt. What could he say? *Sorry, I’m a mess and can’t handle this right now*? It felt inadequate. Ellie was vibrant, curious, real—too real for someone like him, who crumbled under pressure. So, he let the silence grow, convincing himself she’d move on.

Noah wasn’t new to ghosting. He’d done it before, to people who got too close. It wasn’t cruelty; it was self-preservation. Opening up meant risking rejection, and he’d been burned enough to fear it. Ellie was different, though. Her honesty, the way she laughed at his terrible puns, made him want to try. But trying meant failing, and failing meant losing her anyway. So, he chose the coward’s path: disappearance.

Back at her apartment, Ellie’s phone buzzed. Her heart skipped, but it was just Priya: *You good? Forget that guy.* Ellie sighed, her thumb hovering over Noah’s contact. She wanted to delete it, to erase the hurt, but instead, she opened their photos. One from the planetarium, blurry but warm, showed them grinning under the fake stars. She deleted it, then his number, each tap a small rebellion against the ache.

Why was ghosting so easy? Was it the digital age, where people were just profiles to swipe away? Or was it deeper—a fear of confrontation, of admitting imperfection? Ellie didn’t know. All she knew was the sting of being left without a word, like a story abandoned mid-sentence.

A week later, Noah walked past the planetarium. The memory of that night hit hard—Ellie’s voice, soft and excited, naming constellations. He pulled out his phone, typed a message: *I’m sorry. I freaked out. You didn’t do anything wrong.* His thumb hovered over send, then deleted it. Too late. She deserved better than his excuses.

Ellie, meanwhile, was trying again. A new date, a new coffee shop. The guy was nice, funny even, but she held back, wary of another vanishing act. Ghosting hadn’t just taken Noah; it had chipped away at her openness, leaving her braced for the next silence.

In the end, neither found resolution. Noah carried his regret, Ellie her unanswered questions. The space where their story could have grown was now just a ghost, lingering in the quiet, haunting them both with what might have been.

*Word count: 800*