The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual.
I didn't know why.
Maybe because I hadn't slept properly.
Maybe because my mind had been running all night.
Or maybe because of those three words that had stayed inside my head before I finally closed my eyes.
Something has changed.
I reached for my phone before I was even fully awake.
The screen lit up.
No message.
I checked the time.
It was still early.
I put the phone down.
Then picked it up again.
Still nothing.
I sighed.
"Why am I even checking?"
I already knew the answer.
Because I was waiting for her.
I opened our chat and stared at the last few messages.
Nothing looked wrong.
There was no argument.
No angry message.
No harsh words.
Nothing that could explain the strange feeling inside me.
And maybe that was what bothered me the most.
If someone hurts you, at least you know why you're hurting.
But when nothing happens and you still feel something slipping away...
you don't know what to hold on to.
I locked my phone and forced myself to get out of bed.
I tried to keep myself busy.
I had breakfast.
I helped around the house.
I watched some videos.
I even tried studying for a while.
But every few minutes, my attention returned to my phone.
I hated that.
I had never wanted to become the kind of person who measured his happiness by a notification.
Yet somehow, I was becoming exactly that.
Then, finally, my phone buzzed.
I grabbed it almost immediately.
It was Payel.
"Good morning."
A smile appeared on my face without permission.
"Good morning."
A few seconds passed.
Then another message came.
"Did you sleep properly?"
I smiled again.
"Yeah. What about you?"
"Yeah."
I stared at the screen.
That was it.
The conversation stopped.
I waited.
Maybe she'd send something else.
Nothing.
I put my phone away.
Then I looked at it again.
Still nothing.
I shook my head.
"Stop."
I was talking to myself now.
"She's probably busy."
That had to be it.
People got busy.
People had their own lives.
Not every conversation had to last for hours.
Not every silence meant something.
I knew that.
I understood that.
So why couldn't I accept it?
I decided to leave the matter alone.
That afternoon, I went outside.
The weather was pleasant, and for a while, I managed to forget everything.
I met a few people.
We talked.
We laughed.
Someone said something stupid, and I laughed harder than I should have.
For those few hours, I felt normal.
But whenever there was a pause in the conversation, my hand automatically moved toward my pocket.
Phone.
Check.
Nothing.
Put it back.
A few minutes later...
Check again.
Nothing.
I finally laughed at myself.
"What's wrong with me?"
Maybe I was becoming obsessed.
Maybe I was overthinking every little thing because I cared too much.
Maybe I needed to calm down.
So I decided to do something simple.
I would call her.
Not to ask about the change.
Not to question her.
Just to talk.
Just like before.
That evening, I opened her contact.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
For a second, I hesitated.
Then I pressed it.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My heart started beating faster for no reason.
Then she answered.
"Hello?"
Her voice.
Just hearing it made me smile.
"Hey."
"Hey."
There was a small silence.
I tried to ignore it.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing much."
"Busy?"
"No."
"Okay."
Another silence.
I looked around my room.
I needed to say something.
Anything.
"How was your day?"
"Good."
"That's it?"
She laughed softly.
"Yeah."
I smiled.
At least she had laughed.
"Did anything interesting happen?"
"No."
"Nothing?"
"No."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me.
"Okay."
Another silence.
I couldn't understand what was happening.
This was the same girl I could once talk to for hours.
The same girl with whom conversations never seemed to end.
We could talk about the most useless things and somehow turn them into an entire evening.
Now I was struggling to keep a simple conversation alive.
I wanted to ask her.
Are you avoiding me?
I wanted to ask,
Did I do something?
I wanted to ask,
Is everything still okay between us?
But I didn't.
Instead, I asked something completely ordinary.
"Did you eat?"
"Yeah."
"You?"
"I'll eat later."
"Don't skip dinner."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
She laughed.
"Promise."
That tiny laugh made me feel better.
For a few seconds, I thought maybe I had imagined everything.
Maybe she really was fine.
Maybe I was the one creating problems in my head.
We talked for a few more minutes.
Then she said,
"I have to go."
"Okay."
"I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah."
"Bye."
"Bye."
The call ended.
I sat there staring at the wall.
Nothing had happened.
There had been no fight.
No argument.
No harsh words.
Nothing.
And yet, I felt like I had just lost something.
I hated that feeling.
Because how could you miss someone who was still there?
That question stayed with me.
The following days continued in the same strange way.
Some days were good.
Some days were quiet.
Some days she seemed completely normal.
She would laugh.
She would tease me.
She would send something random.
And I would think,
There. Everything is fine.
Then suddenly, she'd become distant again.
Short replies.
Long gaps.
Conversations ending quickly.
It was inconsistent.
And somehow, that made everything worse.
If she had completely stopped talking to me, I would've understood.
If she had told me she was angry, I would've asked why.
If she had said she needed space, I would've given it to her.
But this?
This was different.
It felt like she was standing right in front of me...
but slowly moving farther away.
And I didn't know how to stop it.
One evening, I finally decided to ask.
I opened our chat.
I typed:
"Can I ask you something?"
I stared at the words.
My finger hovered over send.
Then I deleted them.
I typed again.
"Are you upset with me?"
I stared at it.
Deleted.
Again.
"Did I do something?"
Deleted.
I threw my phone onto the bed.
"Why can't I just ask?"
The answer came immediately.
Because I was afraid.
That was the truth.
I was afraid of the answer.
As long as I didn't ask, there was still a possibility that nothing was wrong.
Maybe everything really was normal.
Maybe she was busy.
Maybe she was tired.
Maybe I was overthinking.
But if I asked...
and she said yes...
then the problem would become real.
So I stayed silent.
Maybe that was my biggest mistake.
The next Sunday, we talked again.
I decided I wouldn't think about anything.
I wouldn't analyze her replies.
I wouldn't look for hidden meanings.
I wouldn't wonder why she paused.
I would simply enjoy talking to her.
For the first few minutes, it worked.
She told me something funny.
I laughed.
I told her about something stupid that had happened at home.
She laughed.
For a moment, it felt like the old days.
I smiled.
"There you are."
"What?"
"Nothing."
She laughed.
"You're weird."
"Maybe."
For a little while, everything felt normal.
Then she became quiet.
I noticed immediately.
"Payel?"
"Hmm?"
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
That word again.
Yeah.
I wanted to believe it.
So I did.
Or at least, I tried.
We continued talking.
But this time, I listened differently.
Not just to what she said.
To what she didn't say.
There were pauses.
Longer than before.
There were questions she answered without explaining.
There were things she seemed to avoid.
And every time I noticed something, I told myself:
Don't overthink.
Don't ruin the conversation.
She's fine.
Everything is fine.
But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.
After the call ended, I remained sitting there.
The room was quiet.
I looked at the ceiling.
I wondered when things had started becoming complicated.
Was it because of me?
Was it because of her?
Was it because of something someone else had said?
Or was there something happening that I didn't know about?
I had no answers.
And the more I thought about it, the more questions appeared.
Then I remembered something.
That message from our mutual friend.
"You and Payel aren't talking much these days, right?"
At the time, I'd ignored it.
Now I couldn't.
Why had they asked me that?
How had they noticed?
And more importantly...
what had they heard?
I picked up my phone.
Opened the chat.
Stared at Payel's name.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
I could ask her.
I could finally say everything I had been thinking.
I could tell her that I felt something had changed.
I could ask whether someone had said something.
I could ask whether she was upset with me.
I could ask her everything.
But then I imagined the answer.
And I stopped.
I locked my phone.
Maybe tomorrow.
I'd ask tomorrow.
That became my excuse.
Tomorrow.
I'll ask tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I'll clear everything up.
Tomorrow, I'll find out what changed.
Tomorrow, I'll stop overthinking.
But sometimes, tomorrow comes...
and you still don't ask.
Because you're scared that one question might change everything.
And I wasn't ready for everything to change.
Not yet.
I still wanted to believe that what we had was strong enough to survive a few strange conversations.
After all, we'd already been through so much.
We had distance.
We had difficult days.
We had moments when things didn't go according to plan.
But somehow, we'd always found our way back to each other.
So why would this be different?
I held on to that thought.
Maybe too tightly.
A few days later, I received another message from the same mutual friend.
This time, it was even shorter.
"Everything okay?"
I stared at it.
My first instinct was to say yes.
Instead, I typed:
"Why?"
The reply didn't come immediately.
I waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then:
"Nothing. Just asking."
Again.
Just asking.
I put my phone down.
That phrase was starting to bother me.
Nobody asks something like that without a reason.
At least, that's what I thought.
But I didn't know what the reason was.
And that uncertainty was eating at me.
I started remembering little things.
The shorter replies.
The sudden silences.
The way conversations ended earlier.
The way she sometimes seemed distracted.
The strange question from our friend.
Maybe all of those things were connected.
Or maybe they weren't.
Maybe I was putting together pieces from completely different puzzles and convincing myself they belonged together.
I didn't know.
That was the problem.
I wanted to ask Payel directly.
But every time I opened our chat, fear stopped me.
What if she said there was a problem?
What if she told me someone had said something?
What if she believed something about me that wasn't true?
What if I couldn't explain myself properly?
And the worst possibility...
What if she no longer felt the same way?
That thought hurt more than everything else.
I quickly pushed it away.
"No."
I said it aloud.
"That's not it."
I didn't know whether I was convincing myself or trying to convince the empty room.
I just knew I didn't want to believe it.
Because when someone becomes important to you, the possibility of losing them becomes terrifying.
You start protecting the relationship even from questions that need to be asked.
You become careful with every word.
You begin thinking ten times before sending a message.
And slowly, without realizing it, you stop being honest about what you're feeling.
That's what I was doing.
I was scared.
But instead of saying that, I pretended I was fine.
I told myself I trusted her.
And I did.
I really did.
But trust doesn't mean you never have doubts.
Sometimes you trust someone completely and still fear that circumstances might take them away from you.
That night, I lay in bed with my phone beside me.
I stared at the ceiling.
I thought about all the good moments.
The conversations.
The laughter.
The silly arguments.
The small things that only we understood.
I remembered how easily we used to talk.
How I could tell her almost anything.
And now I was sitting in the dark, afraid to ask one simple question.
What happened?
I closed my eyes.
Maybe tomorrow would be different.
Maybe she'd message me like she used to.
Maybe we'd laugh again.
Maybe everything would go back to normal.
Maybe I'd realize I'd been worrying for nothing.
Maybe there was a simple explanation.
Maybe...
there was no misunderstanding at all.
I turned toward the other side of the bed.
But sleep didn't come.
Because somewhere deep inside me, that small voice returned.
The same voice I'd heard the night before.
Something has changed.
And this time, another thought followed it.
What if I find out too late?
I opened my eyes.
The room was completely silent.
I reached for my phone.
No new messages.
I put it back.
And for the first time, I realized something.
The things I wasn't asking were becoming louder than the things we were actually saying.
And perhaps that was how misunderstandings begin.
Not with lies.
Not with hatred.
Not even with an argument.
Sometimes...
they begin with silence.
And I was becoming very good at staying silent.