I finally lost her for ever without even being a direct 1:1 convo🫠🖤
Until the tenth grade, I had never really paid much attention to girls. Life was simple, predictable — the way it tends to be when you haven't yet been struck by that one particular feeling. But then came the eleventh grade, and with it, everything changed.
Her.
I noticed her, and that was all it took.
Now, let me be honest about who I was — an introvert through and through. Quiet, reserved, the kind of person who thinks ten times before speaking once. She, on the other hand, carried herself with the ease of someone comfortable in any room she walked into. A little extrovert, a little confident. Both of us fair-skinned, and standing at 5'6", I was ever so slightly shorter than her 5'7" — a detail my mind, of course, did not miss.
Since fate had placed us in different streams — me in Science, her in Commerce — the corridors of our college kept us worlds apart. And our college being the kind where boys and girls weren't exactly free to just... talk openly, I decided the modern man's solution was the answer: Instagram.
I found her account — with a little help from her female cousin, who happened to be my classmate and was kind enough to share it when I asked. It seemed like the perfect plan. A simple message. A conversation. Maybe something more.
It was not a perfect plan.
The chats went sideways. I fumbled. She was bothered — genuinely uncomfortable — and with the quiet finality of a door closing, she blocked me.
But here is where my story takes a turn that even I, looking back, struggle to defend.
I came back. Not once. Not twice. Approximately thirty fake accounts later, I was still sending requests. A few of them — maybe four or five — actually got through long enough for a conversation of ten to fifteen minutes before the inevitable happened again. Blocked. Every single one.
By the time eleventh grade ended, she had made her decision with the kind of clarity that needed no explanation: she deleted her Instagram account entirely.
Twelfth grade arrived. A new chapter. And I, carrying this story like a weight I couldn't put down, finally told someone — my online didi, a sister I'd found in the way you sometimes find family in the most unexpected corners of the internet.
She listened. And then, in the way that people who care about you sometimes do the wrong thing for the right reasons, she said — "Let's find her Snapchat."
I managed to track down her phone number through a college group, handed it over, and within a single day, my online didi had found the Snapchat ID.
"Send her a request," I told her. "Become her friend. But please — never mention me. Not once."
The request was sent. One week passed. No acceptance.
So my online didi, running low on patience, did what I had specifically hoped she wouldn't — she messaged her directly on WhatsApp.
And she replied.
Then came the call.
Her voice was calm but firm, carrying the kind of quiet authority that doesn't need to raise itself to be heard. She told my online didi, in no uncertain terms:
"Don't keep your brother close to you like this. A person's respect is in their own hands — and from what I've seen, with all these repeated attempts through other people... I don't think he has much of it left."
"Allah Hafiz."
And just like that, the call ended.
This story is completely true I just used chatgpt to arrange all parts together, that's all🙂