I didn't notice it then.
I wish I had.
It started with little things.The way your replies slowed down. How they lost warmth. No more "hey love!" no more goodnight calls, no more random "I miss you" texts in the middle of the day.
I made excuses for you.
I told myself you were just tired, busy, stressed.
I held on to every little piece of hope like it still meant something.
Like you still meant what you used to say.
But something had changed.I just didn't want to admit it.
I remember one evening—you took hours to reply. I thought, maybe she's busy doing something, maybe went somewhere. And hours later, when you did reply, it was cold. Like I was some random person asking for your time.
I stared at your message, blankly, rereading it again and again. Trying to convince myself it wasn't as empty as it felt.
It was just one message.
But it stayed with me.
That was the first crack.
Not loud, not obvious.
But it was there.
And you weren't gone yet.But you were already leaving. And me? I was still trying.
Still checking my phone too much. Still rereading old chats to remind myself of what we used to be.
Still telling my friends, "we're just going through a rough patch."
Even though I think deep down, I knew. That I was being erased. Slowly, but surely. In a subtle way, like you wouldn't even know when it started, and it would already be finished by the time you know it!
You didn't forget me all at once.
You let go piece by piece.
And I watched it happen with a smile I forced on my face and a voice that tried too hard to sound okay.
I kept showing up.For someone who stopped showing up for me.
That's the part that hurts the most, I think.
Not the end. Not the silence that came after. But the slow fade.The space that grew between us while I kept pretending it wasn't there.
Love doesn't always leave loudly.
Sometimes, it walks out quietly, while you're still holding the door open.
I miss who we were. And I miss who I was when I was with you. Before all these distance. Before I started making excuses for the way you stopped choosing me. And If I could go back to that moment—the first crack— I don't know if I'd hold on tighter or let go sooner.
But All I know is:
That was the beginning of the end. And I was the only one still fighting to stop it.
Well you know what they say....
"Some people leave without a sound. But their silence? It stays."