his unspoken words

words with no voice

Months had passed since I last saw her, since we last spoke. There was a time when she tried to reach out, but I never continued the conversation. I couldn’t really explain my feelings towards her; every time her name came up, it stirred something inside me. It was easy to say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” the classic excuse everyone uses when they want out. But in my case, it was true.

There she was, about 100 meters away, all smiles, chatting animatedly with her friends. Her skin was sun-kissed, hinting at many joyful days spent under the sun without me. She looked happy, as if she had moved on and forgotten everything that happened between us. Then she turned and our eyes met. In that moment, I realized that, nothing had changed.

She looked surprised to see me. I could feel the old familiar adrenaline, the nervous energy of trying to find the courage and the right words to approach her. Did she even want me to go say hi? After all, she had stopped texting, unfollowed me on social media, and from what I’d heard, started dating someone new. She was moving on.

But I went up to her anyway. Her initial confusion quickly turned into a polite inquiry about how I was doing. Once she asked, it hit me, how much I missed our late-night calls, the random topics, her daily questions about my day. I responded mechanically, “I’m good,” and asked what brought her there. She said she liked trying new places, and then, almost offhandedly, noted that I’d let my hair grow out.

Don’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free

In that brief exchange, something unspoken hung heavily between us. Her body language, her eyes, the way she breathed, a part of her still held onto something that was no longer there, even if her words suggested otherwise. She had always wanted more, something serious, something I wasn’t ready to give, though I knew she deserved someone who could.

Our conversation soon dwindled into what I call ‘basic talk’, the kind you have with someone you might see every few years. “How are you?” “Good, you?” Nothing substantial, just skimming the surface. Finally, she said it was nice seeing me and walked away.

I watched as another guy approached her, trying to capture her attention. Who was I to say anything? I just stood there, a mix of emotions clouding my thoughts, wondering if this was the last time we would ever speak, the last time I would hear her voice.

As she disappeared into the crowd, a part of me wished for a different ending, but life isn’t a series of neat closures and poetic goodbyes. Sometimes, it’s about living with the words left unsaid, with the feelings unexplored, and accepting that some stories don’t have a clear conclusion. Just a lingering question, what could have been?

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

***