Bestfriends To Strangers

**From Chat to Silence**

It all started in a small Instagram group chat. Meera didn’t know why she joined, but that day, a message from Aarav caught her attention. He was funny, kind, and somehow seemed to understand her even though they had never met. They started talking casually at first—memes, jokes, random conversations—but slowly, the chat became the place she looked forward to the most.

Meera was not someone who shared her problems easily. She carried her worries silently, fearing attachments and the weight they bring. But Aarav had a way of noticing things she never said. If she didn’t reply for a while, or if her tone felt distant, he would ask softly, “Hey, are you okay?” Even when she shrugged it off or said, “I’m fine,” he somehow sensed that she wasn’t.

He became her light in small ways—the funny memes, the late-night messages, the endless conversations about nothing and everything. She tried to push him away sometimes, scared of getting too attached, scared that if she let herself care, it would hurt. Every time she pulled back, he never left. Every time she hesitated, he stayed, patiently waiting for her to open up.

And slowly, despite herself, Meera began to rely on him. She laughed more, shared tiny things about her day, and felt comforted in ways she had never imagined. She knew that somewhere, behind the screen, someone cared deeply for her. It felt safe, but the fear never completely left her.

One day, Meera found herself sinking into something she couldn’t name—sadness, fear, loneliness. She stopped replying quickly, sometimes didn’t reply at all. Aarav noticed, of course. He asked, gently, “Are you okay?” But she hesitated, afraid that talking about it would make her too vulnerable. And maybe, without realizing it, she also started feeling like she was hurting him by dragging him into her darkness.

Aarav felt confused. From his side, it seemed like she was ignoring him, slowly drifting away. He tried to reach out more, sent messages filled with care, but the responses became shorter, colder. Each day, the distance grew a little, though neither wanted it.

Meera, on the other hand, started believing something terrible: that her presence was causing him pain. That maybe she was a burden. That maybe it was better to leave than continue and hurt him more. She thought leaving was an act of love, a sacrifice for someone she cared about deeply.

And so, one night, after a long silence, she sent a simple message: “I think… it’s better if I go. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Aarav’s response didn’t come immediately. And when it did, it was full of confusion, disbelief, and pain: “Meera… I don’t understand. I’m not hurt. I just… I care about you. Please don’t leave.”

But she didn’t reply. She couldn’t. The fear, the guilt, the thought that she had already caused enough damage—it was too much. She left the chat, the group, and slowly erased the digital traces of their friendship.

Days turned into weeks. Aarav tried to reach her through other channels, but she had vanished, and each message he sent went unanswered. He didn’t know why she left, and the not-knowing hurt more than anything else.

Meera, in her new silence, thought she had done the right thing. She thought she had protected him from her pain, protected herself from attachment. But the truth was, she felt a hollow emptiness inside—a strange combination of relief and grief. The friend who had understood her without words, who had stayed even when she pushed him away, was gone. And there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

Months later, she still thought of him. She remembered the late-night chats, the way he laughed at her silly jokes, the way he sensed her sadness before she could even say it. She remembered the comfort she had felt, the warmth that only his messages could bring. And she realized that sometimes, leaving someone—even when you think it’s for their good—can leave a wound that never truly heals.

Aarav never stopped thinking of her either. He remembered her subtle smiles, her quiet confessions, her moments of fear and joy. He didn’t hate her for leaving. He just missed her, deeply. And perhaps that was the cruelest part—that two people could care for each other so much, yet become strangers, with nothing left but memories on a screen.