.

It was a quiet Sunday evening.

He sat alone on a weathered bench by the lake. In his hand, his old phone buzzed softly — unread messages glowing faintly through the cracked screen.

The world around him was peaceful, but inside him, a storm never stopped.

He tapped the screen and played the last voicemail.

"Hey… it’s me again. I know you're probably busy like always, but… I miss you. I really do. I wish you'd call back. Even for a minute. I’ll wait… like I always do."
Her voice — soft, tired, laced with love and sadness.

She had always waited for him.

Since childhood, she was there. Quiet. Loyal. Always one step behind him, holding pieces of him even he forgot he left behind.

One day, with shaking hands and eyes full of fear, she confessed.

"I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. I know you probably don’t feel the same… but I had to say it."
He didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t ready.
So he said nothing.
He just smiled. Awkwardly. And changed the subject.

But she never brought it up again.
She stayed.

When he failed — she believed in him.
When he succeeded — she celebrated him.
When he cried — she listened, even in silence.

But he never looked back.

Until the day she stopped calling.

At first, he didn’t notice.

He was too busy chasing everything — his dreams, his distractions, temporary people who didn’t know his favorite song or how he took his coffee.

And then… a message came.

From someone else.

"She’s gone. She’d been fighting silent battles for a long time. She always said you were her reason to stay. When even you stopped answering... she let go."
His world shattered.

He called her number again and again.
It rang. But no one would ever pick up.

So he left a voicemail — the one that never got heard.

"I’m sorry. I was a fool. I thought you’d always be there. I didn’t know I loved you until the silence screamed louder than your voice ever did."
"Please… if you can hear me… just give me one more chance. One call. One moment. Anything."
The next morning, a message appeared.

A scheduled text. Sent long before her goodbye.

"If you're reading this… I’m probably not here anymore. But don’t blame yourself.
I just got tired of being your almost.
I hope you love someone the way I loved you — quietly, completely, even when it hurt."

"Maybe one day, someone will call you in the middle of the night. I hope you answer that call. Even if just once."

"Goodbye. And thank you… for being my forever, even if I was only your someday." 💔

That’s why, every Sunday, he sat at the lake.

He answered every call now.

But the one he truly longed for… would never come again.

_"She never asked him to love her back.
Only to notice… before it was too late."_

Adi_Twice