I Still Open Our Chats
At night, when the day finally shuts up, I still open our chats. Not every night, not like a proud routine, but often enough that I can’t pretend it’s rare. I scroll slowly, like I’m visiting a place I’m not supposed to live in anymore. Some lines still make me smile for a second, before reality catches up. Some lines make my chest tighten because they sound like a version of us that felt permanent. And some lines make me stare at the screen and accept the one thing I avoided saying for too long: it was my mistake, paapa. It’s strange how the smallest things become the loudest after someone leaves. A “good night” that used to land like peace. A stupid inside joke that still works, and then immediately hurts. I didn’t realize how much of my day had you in it until the day my phone stopped expecting you, paapa. I’m not saying I was a villain. I’m not saying I’m the only reason it ended. I’m saying I can see my part clearly now, and I’m not going to hide it behind timing or “it just happe...