A Different View

Epilogue

The days that followed were a blur—time passing like water slipping through my fingers, never stopping, never waiting. But there were moments, quiet ones, when I could feel the weight of what had been left behind. The ghost of us, still lingering in the spaces I had tried to fill with distractions.

It was late one evening, when the world outside was quiet, that I found myself standing still in a moment I didn’t expect. My thumb brushed over the familiar app, Connectify, and without even thinking, I opened it ;

I should have stopped there, but my fingers moved without permission. The temptation to send her a message, to break the silence, to somehow make things right—despite knowing it was too late—was overwhelming.

But in an instant, I was greeted by a notification that stung more than I anticipated—“This account no longer exists.”

Blocked.

The finality of it hit harder than anything else.

I sat there, frozen, the realization crashing over me with brutal clarity. She had let go, as she should have. She had done what I couldn’t—she had chosen herself. And I couldn’t blame her for it.

I wanted to reach out, to apologize, to explain. But there were no more words left. No more chances to undo the damage I had caused. The silence I had forced between us now felt permanent, like a chasm that could never be bridged.

And as I closed my phone, the weight of everything I had lost settled in. There would be no more calls, no more messages, no more chance to make things right. What we had was gone, and it was my fault.

I could only sit with it—regret, guilt, and the hollow space where love used to be—knowing that sometimes, no matter how much you want to fix something, you can’t. And in the end, some things are meant to stay unresolved.