The Day You Became a Stranger

I remember the day you stopped loving me.

It wasn’t with a fight, or a slammed door. It wasn’t even with a goodbye. It was in the way your messages got shorter, your calls less frequent, your smile more distant. Love doesn’t always die with a bang — sometimes, it fades away like morning mist.

We met in the most ordinary way — mutual friends, a college party, shared playlists. But what followed was anything but ordinary. You told me you had never opened up to anyone like you did with me. I believed it, because I felt the same. We stayed up till 3 a.m. talking about childhood dreams and fears we never told anyone. You liked the way I laughed when I was nervous. I loved how you looked at the world like you were always a little surprised by its beauty.

In the beginning, we couldn’t go a day without talking. You would text me good morning before I even opened my eyes, and we would fall asleep on calls, hearing each other's breaths. I still remember the little notes you left in my books, the songs you sent me just because they reminded you of me. Every moment felt like a warm hug I never wanted to let go of.

But things changed.

At first, I blamed life. You got busy. I got anxious. “It’s just a phase,” I kept telling myself. “Love takes work.” I waited. I tried. I texted first, called more often, planned small surprises. But slowly, I became the only one trying. Your replies turned into emojis. Your hugs felt hollow. And your silence… your silence hurt more than any words ever could.
The hardest part wasn’t losing you.

It was watching you still exist in my life, but as a shadow of who you used to be.
The person who once held my trembling hands with so much care now scrolled through their phone when I cried. The boy who once promised to never let me sleep upset was now the reason I stayed awake all night, heart aching in silence.

I asked you one night, “Are we okay?”
You smiled — not the kind of smile that comforted, but the kind that avoided. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Tired.

That one word became your excuse for everything.
Tired of work.
Tired of talking.
Tired of trying.
Eventually, you got tired of me.

I wish you had just said it.
I wish you had said, “I don’t love you anymore,” instead of pretending nothing was wrong while everything was falling apart.
But perhaps silence was kinder than truth.
Or maybe you were just a coward.

The day you left, you didn’t slam the door. You didn’t cry. You didn’t say goodbye.
You just stopped showing up.
No texts. No explanations. Just absence.
A vanishing act.

I kept rereading old conversations, searching for signs, as if I could reverse time.
I kept your hoodie, even though it doesn’t smell like you anymore.
I kept our photos, though I no longer recognize the people in them.

Some nights I still dream about you. Not the new you — but the version of you I loved. The one who looked at me like I was magic..

Now, you’re just another person I used to know.
A stranger who holds the map of my heart but no longer wants to find the way back.