Three hours of Pharmaceutical Chemistry, followed by a practical that ran over time. My back ached from leaning over the bench, my fingers still smelled faintly of reagents, and my brain was foggy from trying to keep up with everything the new terms, the unfamiliar lab environment, the weight of being a fresher still figuring out how to survive.
It was my first year. First semester, actually. Everything still felt new and overwhelming.
My hostel room was quiet. My roommate wasn't back yet. I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my sneakers, and fell onto the bed face-first.
For a moment, I just lay there. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, doing little against the afternoon heat. My phone was in my pocket, digging into my thigh. I should move. I should check it.
I didn't want to.
But I did.
The notification came at 12:08 PM.
Fatima Hassan
I stared at the name.
Three years. That's how long that name had been showing up on my screen. Through secondary school. Through test. Through the stress of exam and the waiting for admission. Through the uncertainty of where we'd end up me here, studying Pharmacy; her in another university, another city, chasing her own dreams.
Three years of her.
I opened the message.
Hi, I feel like our relationship won't work so probably we should end it here
The fan kept spinning. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughed. Life went on.
I read it again. And again. My thumb hovered over the screen like if I waited long enough, the words would rearrange themselves into something less final.
They didn't.
---
You joking right...
I typed fast, my fingers unsteady.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
I'm serious
I sat up.
The exhaustion I'd felt minutes ago was gone, replaced by something sharp and cold. I stared at her name. At her display picture a simple photo of a flower. No face. She'd told me once it was because she didn't want her family to know she was dating. Three years, and they still didn't know I existed.
I understood. Or I tried to.
Hmmm, why
That's all I could send. My chest was too tight for more.
She replied: Hmmmm
Then the long one came.
I've had time to think about it all and I know we won't work so it's best we just end it here, I know it hurts which hurts more on my side also huh I don't want us to keep on giving ourselves false hope on something that won't work.
False hope.
Three years, and that's what it was called now.
And note pls it's not bcuz I'm seeing another guy or anything
I didn't know if that made it better or worse. Maybe worse. Because if it wasn't someone else, then it was just us. Just the distance that was only going to get longer. Just the families we'd never be able to introduce each other to. Just the faiths that sat between us like a door neither of us knew how to open.
Let's just stop it here, I know we've come a long way
We had. Three years is a long way. It's holding someone's hand in secret behind the school building. It's planning which universities to apply to, hoping they'd be close. It's loving someone so much it hurts, while knowing love might not be enough.
But lets end it here I'm sorry I know it's might be too much for you to understand let's just try to understand
I called her.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
Voice call — No answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I thought about calling a third time. Thought about texting her back, begging, asking for reasons she'd already given. But what was the point? She'd thought about this. Maybe for weeks. Maybe for months. Maybe for longer than I wanted to admit.
At 12:58 PM, I typed the last thing I would ever say to her.
Alright no problem
---
Then I said, "I respect your choice."
And I swallowed the "please stay with me"
because I cannot force someone who
doesn't want me to be with me.
---
I didn't cry then. I just sat there on the edge of my bed, phone in my hand, the afternoon sun slanting through the window, my notes for tomorrow's test still scattered across my desk.
Somewhere in another city, she was probably sitting in her own room, staring at her own screen, wondering if she'd done the right thing.
And I was here. Alone. A 100-level Pharmacy student with a test on Friday and a hole in my chest the size of three years.