She Disappeared Without a Word… Then Became a Bride
We met through someone we both knew. Nothing special. No sparks flying. Just two people who stumbled into conversation and somehow never ran out of things to say.
She lived in Nepal. I was working in Qatar. But somehow, the distance didn’t matter. Time zones didn’t matter. We talked all night, slipped into each other’s mornings, laughed through tired eyes and long workdays. It was easy. It was real—at least it felt that way to me.
She never confessed her feelings. Neither did I. But every message had meaning. Every silence was soft, not empty. We understood each other in ways that didn’t need explaining.
Sometimes I pulled back. Maybe out of fear. Maybe because I wasn’t ready to commit. But every time I drifted, she reached out—never desperate, just there. And every time, I got pulled back in deeper.
Until one day—
She was gone.
Blocked. Disconnected. No warning. No closure. One moment I was laughing with her… the next, I was staring at an empty chat screen, wondering what the hell happened.
I was confused. Restless. I reached out to our mutual friend, not directly asking, but hoping she'd sense what I needed. She did. Gave me her number. I had it—but I never dialed. What would I even say?
Weeks later, a new friend request popped up. Her new ID. I kept sending and cancelling requests like a madman. One day, I forgot to cancel. She accepted.
She said her old account was broken. But I knew better. I didn’t push it. I didn’t care. She was back.
We talked again. Shared pieces of our lives. I showed her my new room. We laughed—light, brief, familiar.
Then, one day, her hands showed up on my feed. Mehndi designs. A bride.
That was it. No explanation. No goodbye again.
Just… her, dressed in symbols of love. And me, drowning in symbols of loss.
I was on duty when I saw it. Tears welled up. I texted her. Called. No answer. I spiraled. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel anything but the hurt. I broke my phone. I broke myself.
That night, I picked up a blade. Not to end anything. Just to make the inside match the outside. My body bore the pain I couldn’t speak. I cut—again and again—but it didn’t numb the ache. It only marked it.
Months passed in silence.
One day, I gathered the courage to reflect. I realized something hard: even if she hadn’t gotten married, I wouldn’t have been ready. I was scared. I was uncertain. I wasn’t the man she needed. And still… I missed her.
So, I texted her—one final time. I apologized. I asked for her forgiveness, not her return.
She forgave me.
I never asked her about the wedding. Never asked what really happened. I didn’t need to. I just hoped she was happy. That she found peace. That life gave her everything I couldn’t.
Now, she has a beautiful baby boy.
Sometimes, I still find myself on her profile. Just scrolling. Just wondering. I think she does the same. But we never speak. Not a word. Not even a like.
Today, as I lie awake from the pain of a swollen jaw, I find myself comparing this physical pain to that old, unforgettable one.
And I wonder—
Was that heartbreak worse than this?
Was the cut on my heart deeper than the ones on my skin?
Or is it just her memory that still hurts the most?
She’s someone I never had,
Always felt,
And never forgotten.
✍️ Written by Suraj
From a moment that never belonged to me, but still lingers in my soul.
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