Dear M

Chapter 1: The Beginning of a Friendship

I saw him for the first time in 2017. It was casual, in a hallway, among a group of friends, but there was something about him that made me look twice. I'm not sure what it was—maybe that carefree way of smiling, or how he seemed like nothing could bother him. Everyone liked him, but I noticed something more. I didn't know his name at first, and he didn't know mine either. I called him M because, somehow, names didn't seem important. It was like that was enough.

We started talking by sheer coincidence, because one day we ended up in the same group chat, and after sharing a few jokes, I dared to message him. At first, his replies were short, but there was something in them that intrigued me.
—How are you? —I asked him one day.
—Not good —he replied, and his honesty caught me off guard. Before I could ask more, he added—: But I'd rather not talk about it.
That was our first real conversation, and although it didn't last long, it left me thinking. There was something behind that response that made me feel like not everything was as it seemed.

In the following weeks, our chats followed a familiar pattern. Brief, casual. We didn't share anything too deep, and we didn't mention our names, but every time we talked, I could sense something about him that he wasn't showing the others. Most people saw him as this sociable guy, always with a joke ready, but I was starting to notice the pauses in the middle of those laughs. Like he'd switch off at certain moments.

One random day, I sent him a message.
—What are you doing?
—Nothing, just waiting —he replied after a while.
—Waiting for what?
—Something. Doesn't matter.
His vague answer left me feeling uneasy. It wasn't the first time he avoided giving me a direct response, but this time something felt different.

A few hours later, he texted me again.
—Hey, my nephew was just born.
I was the first person he told, and I knew because, in that moment, something between us changed. But instead of the usual excitement, his tone felt flat, like that news wasn't the most important thing on his mind.
—Congratulations! —I replied, though something told me there was more to it. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just a distraction from something bigger, something still hiding in the shadows.

From that day on, our conversations got longer, but also more evasive. He'd talk to me about everyday things: video games, shows, music... Stuff anyone could talk about without thinking too much. But every time he mentioned his family, something shifted. His messages turned cold, more calculated. I knew there was something there, something he didn't want to share. And as much as I tried not to push him, I couldn't help but feel like I was getting closer to a truth he didn't want me to know.

One night, after weeks of fragmented conversations and responses that left more questions than answers, I decided to ask him directly.
—Why do you always say you're fine, but never seem like it?
There was a long silence. I thought, like other times, he would ignore the question or change the subject with a joke. But this time he didn't.
—Because if you knew what's really going on, you wouldn't look at me the same way.

His words left me cold. He didn't say anything more, and I didn't push. But that confession, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made me realize how little I really knew about him. Who was M? What was weighing him down so much that he had to hide behind this carefree persona?

I wondered if I'd ever know his real name, or if that too, like everything else in his life, was meant to stay hidden. I hadn't told him mine either, because at that moment, it didn't seem necessary. What mattered was the connection, something that didn't need labels.

We kept talking, almost like nothing had changed. No names, no promises, without either of us stepping into the unknown. But every day, the uncertainty grew, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if I'd ever have the courage to tell him who I really was.