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Her name echoes in the silence of the night…

Everything I manage to silence during the day begins to speak, one by one, deep inside me as the night falls. Maybe it isn’t her voice, but her memory it feels so real. I see her clearly: her smile, her presence, the way even her silence spoke volumes. There isn’t a single word I forget. But most of all, it’s her quietness that stayed with me.

The moment my head touches the pillow, my heart sinks into a void. She isn’t here. And maybe she never will be again. Still, my mind searches for her stubbornly, every night. I catch myself wondering, “What is she doing right now?” even though I know how much it hurts to ask a question with no answer.

Missing someone… I’ve never felt this word so deeply before. Thinking about her face, remembering her eyes, imagining her voice these used to bring me comfort. Now they weigh heavy on my chest. I want to forget, yet I also want to hold on. How can something hurt and feel warm at the same time?

Sometimes I stare at my phone screen for no reason, half-expecting her name to light up. I whisper, “I wish she’d call,” but deep down I know she won’t. Because those who choose to leave rarely choose to return. And the hardest part is learning to live with the silence she left behind.

Everything about her is still here, somehow. The echo of her laughter clings to the walls. That quiet corner we used to sit in together hasn’t changed. But more than anything, she’s still inside me, like a sentence left unfinished lingering, unresolved.

And now, in the stillest hour of the night, I whisper her name once more.
No answer.
Just the echo.

Because every word left unsaid always returns someday and it’s in the silence of night when that echo speaks the loudest.