We Never Said Goodbye
The room was quiet—too quiet for 10:00 PM.
Mark sat at the edge of his bed, cup of tea half-finished on the nightstand. His phone buzzed once with a message—
And then silence.
He didn't know what he was expecting when he messaged Aria.
Just a simple:
"You still awake?"
The way they talked, it didn't need build-up. They never said goodnight at the right time anyway. Sometimes she'd reply hours later with a meme. Other times, a frog emoji with no context.
But tonight… the reply wasn't hers.
Aria 🧃 (10:14 PM):
"Who's this?"
Mark blinked.
That didn't sound like her. Not even in her joking tone.
But the profile picture, the chat history… everything was exactly the same.
His stomach shifted slightly, but he didn't overreact.
Mark:
"It's Mark. This isn't Aria, right?"
The three dots appeared.
Paused.
Disappeared.
Then a single message.
Aria 🧃 (10:15 PM):
"I'm her boyfriend."
That was it.
Just those four words—and the world felt like it tilted a little.
Mark sat back, eyes fixed on the screen. He didn't feel jealous. Not even hurt. Just… off. Like something didn't belong.
Maybe she left her account logged in. Maybe this guy saw a message and got curious.
He took a moment. Typed carefully.
Mark:
"Didn't mean to bother. Just saying hi. I'll back off."
A minute passed.
Another message came through.
Aria 🧃 (10:17 PM):
"How do you know her?"
It wasn't aggressive.
But it wasn't warm either.
Mark's heart ticked a little faster, but he kept his calm.
Mark:
"We've been talking for a while. Just friends."
A short pause. Then—
Aria 🧃 (10:18 PM):
"How long?"
He looked at the timestamp on their first messages—nearly a year.
Mark:
"Almost a year, I think."
"She helped me through some rough days. I always respected that."
"But if she's uncomfortable, I'll stay away. No problem."
He meant that. He really did.
Then came the next one.
Aria 🧃 (10:20 PM):
l"Where do you live?"
Mark froze.
Why does that matter?
He tilted his head, fingers tightening slightly around the phone. He didn't like where this was going.
Mark:
"Sorry. That's a weird question."
"If there's something bothering you, maybe ask her?"
No reply for a while.
Mark got up, walked into the kitchen, poured himself water just to calm his mind.
He wasn't scared. He wasn't intimidated.
But he was disappointed. And tired.
When he came back to his room, the next message had already arrived.
Aria 🧃 (10:26 PM):
"Don't message her again."
"She's mine. I love her."
"She never told me about you."
That one… that one hit differently.
The words didn't come at once like a punch.
They just… settled.
Heavy. Quiet.
Mark stared at that last line.
She never told me about you.
His hands dropped to his lap, phone resting on his thigh.
For a second, he thought maybe Aria had handed him the phone. Maybe this was planned.
But then another thought: maybe her account's still logged in somewhere. Maybe she doesn't even know.
Either way… it hurt.
He breathed deeply. Calmly.
Then typed, slowly.
Mark:
"I'm sorry you feel like I'm a threat. I never disrespected her."
"She was a friend when I needed one. I never crossed a line."
He waited.
Then added—
Mark:
"But I won't message again."
"I care about her enough to walk away if that's what she needs."
He stared at the last sentence.
Did she need that?
Or was someone deciding for her?
He placed the phone face down.
Not slammed. Just quiet.
The tea had gone cold, but it didn't matter.
He lay on his bed, one hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling fan spinning above.
So many things spun with it—
memes they shared, the way she teased his obsession with black coffee, how she promised to hug him first when they met—and yet they both got too nervous.
He smiled at that memory.
Then, slowly, the smile faded.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't even betrayal.
It was that feeling when something you never expected to lose
just… quietly
slipped away.
He hadn't done anything wrong.
But maybe that didn't matter.
His phone buzzed once more.
He reached for it slowly.
Aria 🧃 (10:34 PM):
Seen.
No words. Just seen.
He stared at it, then turned the phone off.
He didn't want to risk another message.
Not tonight.
Not if it wasn't her.
And definitely not if it was.