Words Left Unspoken, Lines Yet to Sing

“I’m going to message her,” I had said.

It’s been three days since then…

I didn’t know if I was truly ready. But the feeling inside me—the urge to apologize, maybe for the first time wanting to do something for myself—kept growing.

Lyra and I had such a great time that day. Even though we couldn’t access the music room, spending time in a different way like that had been really nice. I think I got caught in the magic of the moment and... didn’t write to her.

But that was just an excuse.
I’d just kept putting it off.

Now, in the middle of the night, alone in my room, I was holding my phone and sending a friend request to Emi on social media.

The time had come.
It had to come.
Because I couldn’t keep living with this guilt any longer.

My heart was practically skipping beats. I couldn’t even message her unless she accepted the request first. Stupid social media rules…

It took about half an hour for her to accept it. Though honestly, that thirty minutes felt more like half a second.

Now it was my turn to write.

Over these few days, I had been trying to put together a message. I kept deleting, rewriting, editing. Sometimes I’d just sit there, staring at the screen, not knowing what to say. I’d look at the draft, then scrap it and start all over again. It was three days of fighting with myself, basically.

But now I felt mentally ready.
Whenever I thought of the conversation I had with Lyra, I found a bit of strength.
I copied the message I’d prepared and pasted it.

The “Send” button had never looked so terrifying.
But there was no turning back now.

My message read:

"Hey Emi,

Sorry to bother you at this hour. The other day, Ray told me about what happened back then between us, and honestly, I don’t know how much weight a three-year-old story still holds—but I never realized how much I hurt you with my actions. I may have been a total fool.
Back then, I was upset. There were things I didn’t understand, and instead of asking you, I retreated into silence. Maybe I was right, maybe not. But when I found out how much I hurt you, I was angry at myself. I didn’t talk to anyone about it, nor did I gauge what people around me thought.
After Ray told me, I felt awful—and I just wanted to apologize. I know it’s been a long time, and maybe I was a clueless jerk back then, but I’m sorry I never opened up to you about it.
I’m not writing this in hopes of starting anything new. I just want to leave the past in a place that feels less broken."

The world around me felt like it had fallen completely still.
My fingers, the ones that had tapped “Send,” were ice-cold. My breath came in short, nervous bursts.

And then, right away, she saw the message.

And not long after—
She started typing.

What now? I thought.
What was she going to say?
What could she say?

Was I the villain in this story?
Or the guilty one?

The uncertainty made me feel… small.

Then her message arrived:

"Hi. 

First of all, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to stir things up again after all this time, but I ended up telling Ray about it. Back then… I wasn’t really thinking clearly because I liked you, and when I didn’t get a response from you, I distanced myself. But I knew you were going through something. Since neither of us really said anything, the whole thing ended in such a dumb way. Still, I used to wonder about it sometimes, and when I couldn’t find an answer, I just stopped thinking about it. 

Thank you for explaining. It’s okay now. Like you said—time has passed."

I didn’t know what to say. What to do.

She hadn’t lashed out.

In fact, she was completely objective—and explained her side.

I hadn’t received the emotional blow I was expecting.
Instead, I witnessed a girl calmly, honestly laying her heart bare.

There was only one thing I could think to say.
I couldn’t just leave it on “Seen” after all this time.

"Thank you for your understanding. Maybe there’s no fixing what was hurt, and it took me way too long to say this—but I’m truly sorry. And thank you."

I wrote it, my chest filling with a quiet heaviness.

She read it right away and responded again:

"There’s no need to apologize for emotions you didn’t understand back then. And I should be the one thanking you—

For at least acknowledging what we shared back then. I’m glad."

And just like that… it was over.

It felt like a farewell.
Like the quiet end to a deep, dark ocean current.
A goodbye spoken in the soft light of emotions we couldn’t name.

It came and went so quickly.

A conversation that ended without blame, without pushing, without dragging anything out.

Compared to our childish behavior back then, this exchange felt… grown-up.

We’d grown up.

All those angsty teenage games and silent treatments—
Now, we were calmer people.

And Emi…

She had given me the most beautiful words I could have hoped for.

I didn’t feel anything for her anymore—I hadn’t, and probably couldn’t.
Maybe, with time, or if I’d given it a real chance, something could’ve happened. Sure.
But I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t lie to myself.
And I couldn’t pretend around someone who had once felt something real for me.

So maybe it wasn’t a perfect ending—but it was a good one.

A late ending, but a kind one.

I lay back on my bed, holding my phone in my left hand, staring up at the ceiling.

So that was it.
The end of my one and only teen drama.

I let out a deep breath.

Had we made peace? I mean… there wasn’t really anything to fight about anymore.

Had we gotten close again? Not exactly—but we had spoken like people who once mattered to each other.

Were we sad?
Maybe. But I think we both felt at peace now.

Part of me still felt like I’d missed out on something, like I’d messed up those years.

But another part knew—this was the version of me shaped by all of that.

Maybe I was someone who aged mentally far too fast. Maybe I was tired already, even this young.

And yet, I could still long for emotions like a child younger than my age.

Even if I couldn’t handle loss…

Too many years had already passed for me to go back now.

At that moment, only two people came to mind.
The only two I could share this with, openly and fully.

I texted Ray:

"I talked to Emi. We settled things… and I guess we kind of said goodbye."

And then Lyra:

"Hey Lyra. You once told me, ‘If anything happens, I’d love to hear about it.’ I talked to Emi. I feel at peace now. Maybe it was a bit of a farewell between us, but still—thank you for your help."

And that was that…

The miniature crisis of my youth—
A moment where I, someone forced to grow up too soon,
managed to process it all in just four messages.

Maybe our story had remained unfinished.
But sometimes, even the unfinished ones carve out a perfect place in your heart.

I had grown.
She had grown.

And now, it was time to blow the dust off the past—
And move forward.