A relationship doesn't always end when love disappears.
Sometimes, it ends when two people keep holding on but stop reaching out.
For months after the fights began, Siya kept trying.
"Please, Ruhan... I'm telling you what's hurting me. Can't you change just a little?"
"I'll try, Siya. Just don't leave me."
But he never really tried.
And she… she never really left.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks into months.
The same cycle. Fights. Promises. Silence. Disappointment.
She cried alone in the washroom.
He played it cool with his friends but slept with guilt.
And yet—they stayed.
Not because they were happy.
But because they were afraid of what life would be without each other.
Then came 6th January.
They met. Hoping maybe… just maybe, they could still fix things.
Siya dressed up. Wore her favorite scent—the one Ruhan once said reminded him of peace.
She had rehearsed everything she'd say.
"Tell him what you feel. Tell him this can't continue."
Ruhan came too. But he looked distant. As if something was on his mind but locked behind his silence.
They stood in front of each other.
Siya:
"Ruhan… I've told you so many times what I need. Why does nothing change?"
He looked down, silent.
Siya (voice cracking):
"Say something. Say you're sorry. Say you'll change. SAY SOMETHING!"
But Ruhan?
He stood there. Blank. Quiet. Fists clenched. Eyes heavy—but lips shut.
And that silence?
That broke her more than words ever could.
She took a deep breath.
One that shook her chest like a storm.
"You came here to make things right… and you can't even say a word?"
Still silence.
Tears rolled down Siya's cheeks.
"You know what hurts most? You always said you'll never leave. But you left me alone even while staying."
She turned away. Walked a few steps.
Then turned back.
"I loved you more than I loved myself. But now… I don't even recognize who I am with you."
"Let's end this."
7th January.
She texted him:
"One year. Eleven months. And we couldn't learn to bend for each other. Maybe we weren't meant to break—just meant to teach."
"I hope you find your peace. I'll try to find mine."
He replied after an hour:
"I'll always love you, Siya. But I guess we loved wrong."
"Goodbye."
And just like that…
No fights.
No begging.
No dramatic scenes.
Just heartbreak…
and a silence that screamed louder than all their arguments ever did.
She lay in bed that night, phone pressed to her chest, crying into her pillow.
And for the first time,
there was no "I love you"
before sleep.
Just the echo of what they used to be.