winee
Newbie
There was a girl who never believed in love.
Not because she never tried… but because every time she did, she ended up being “too much” for someone who gave her too little.
Then he came.
Not dramatically. Not like in movies
Just a simple
“Hey… you seem quiet. You okay?”
And somehow… that was enough
They started talking every night.
At first, it was random—memes, jokes, stupid arguments about who loves more.
Then slowly… it became deeper.
He knew when she was lying about being “fine.”
She knew when his “I’m okay” meant he wasn’t
They didn’t label it.
But they both knew.
One night, she asked:
“Why do you stay?”
He replied:
“Because you didn’t leave when I was at my worst.”
She smiled at her screen like an idiot.
For the first time…
she felt chosen.
Days turned into months.
He became her routine.
Her safe place.Her home.
And she?
She became someone who started believing again.
Until one night…He didn’t reply.
At first, she didn’t panic.
“Maybe he’s busy.”
Then an hour passed.
Then three.
Then a day.
Her messages changed.
“Hey baby ”
“Are you okay?”
“Did I do something?”
“Please reply…”
“Please don’t leave like everyone else.”
No reply.
She waited for 3 days.
Then 5.
Then 2 weeks.
People told her:
“Move on.”
“He’s just another guy.”
“He probably found someone else.”
She laughed it off.
But at night…
she reread old chats
like they were the only proof he was real.
One month later.
She got a message.
From an unknown number.
“Hi… are you (her name)?”
Her heart started racing.
“Yes… who is this?”
There was a pause.
Then the reply came.
“I’m his brother.”
Her hands froze.
Her heartbeat got louder than her thoughts.
“He talked about you a lot.”
She didn’t know why…but suddenly she was scared to read the next message.
“He met with an accident… 3 weeks ago.”
Everything went silent.
“He used to keep saying your name… even in the hospital he saw ur photo at last .”
Her vision blurred.
Her chest felt tight.
“And… there’s something you should know…”
She couldn’t breathe properly now.
“He had a scheduled message saved… but I didn’t see it earlier…”
Another pause.
Then she received a screenshot.
It was a message.
From him.
Her phone slipped from her hand.
All this time…
She thought he left her.
She thought she wasn’t enough.
She thought she got replaced.
But the truth?
He didn’t leave.
He was taken.
And she…
was still waiting for a reply
that was never meant to come.
That night, for the first time in her life…
she didn’t cry loudly.
No screaming. No breakdown.
Just silent tears…
falling on a screen
that would never light up again.
And somewhere in her unread messages…
there was still one last text she text
“Come back… I’m still here.”But this time…
no one was on the other side to say—
“Hey… you seem quiet. You okay?”
The end? Bruhh god have a different fucked up plan always which we never expect.
Two months later, she was at a local mall in her city, trying to breathe again. She sat at a café, staring at her phone, still scrolling through their old chats.
A voice at the next table caught her
"Yeah, then I told her that I passed away due to accident with bad news. You should have seen the stickers she sent—pure heartbreak. Easiest grand I ever made lmaoo”
She froze. The voice. It was deep, melodic, with that specific rasp she had heard in a hundred voice notes.
She turned slowly.
It was a guy. Young, healthy, wearing an expensive watch. He was sitting with two other guys, their phones out on the table. They were all on her contacts.
Guy 1: “Wait, did you actually kill the (his name)account? That one had 10k followers.”
Him: “Had to. The girl (SHE) was getting too clingy. Wanted to meet up. I had to kill him off to start fresh. Check this out—this is my new one: 'Arjun_Broken.' I'm using the 'Dead Brother' script this time. Hits the older girls right in the feels.”
He laughed. It was the same laugh that used to tuck her into sleep.
She didn't scream. She didn't throw her coffee. She felt a coldness she didn't know existed. She pulled out her phone and logged into a fake ID.
She searched for "Arjun_Broken."
She sent a message:“Hey... I saw your profile. You look like you’ve been through a lot. Do you need someone to talk to?”
She watched him. He looked at his phone, a smirk spreading across his face.
His reply (on her screen): “Heyy Hi yes actually I need someone beside me my brother was everything to meee n bla blah emotional dramassss as you’ll knowww.”
He looked up, scanning the mall for his next "mark," his eyes passing right over HER. He didn't recognize her. To him, she was never a face. She was just a blue bubble on a screen that paid for his watch.
The End: She stood up, walked over to his table, and placed her phone face-up in front of him. On the screen was the photo of her at the beach—the one his brother said he "looked at while he was dying."
She didn't say a word. She just watched the blood drain from his face as he realized the "ghost" was standing right in front of him.
But as she walked away, she heard him turn to his friends and whisper: "Whatever. Plenty more 'angels' in this Malaysia . Someone find me a non dramatic from other religion, they're the most loyal."
The cycle didn't break. Only she did.
(Are you crying yet? Because the worst part is... she’s still going to check his profile tonight just to see if he’s 'typing.')
Blah blah: My hotty boys, a tiny note for you all.
This is written purely from my point of view. When you read it, feel free to flip the roles and imagine yourself in the girl’s place if you want.
And please… let’s skip the “not all boys are the same” speech this time, okay? I already know that
as I got my Katti Thangom In my lyfe.
This isn’t a debate, it’s an expression. Raw, honest, and yes— with truth in it .
Not because she never tried… but because every time she did, she ended up being “too much” for someone who gave her too little.
Then he came.
Not dramatically. Not like in movies
Just a simple
“Hey… you seem quiet. You okay?”
And somehow… that was enough
They started talking every night.
At first, it was random—memes, jokes, stupid arguments about who loves more.
Then slowly… it became deeper.
He knew when she was lying about being “fine.”
She knew when his “I’m okay” meant he wasn’t
They didn’t label it.
But they both knew.
One night, she asked:
“Why do you stay?”
He replied:
“Because you didn’t leave when I was at my worst.”
She smiled at her screen like an idiot.
For the first time…
she felt chosen.
Days turned into months.
He became her routine.
Her safe place.Her home.
And she?
She became someone who started believing again.
Until one night…He didn’t reply.
At first, she didn’t panic.
“Maybe he’s busy.”
Then an hour passed.
Then three.
Then a day.
Her messages changed.
“Hey baby ”
“Are you okay?”
“Did I do something?”
“Please reply…”
“Please don’t leave like everyone else.”
No reply.
She waited for 3 days.
Then 5.
Then 2 weeks.
People told her:
“Move on.”
“He’s just another guy.”
“He probably found someone else.”
She laughed it off.
But at night…
she reread old chats
like they were the only proof he was real.
One month later.
She got a message.
From an unknown number.
“Hi… are you (her name)?”
Her heart started racing.
“Yes… who is this?”
There was a pause.
Then the reply came.
“I’m his brother.”
Her hands froze.
Her heartbeat got louder than her thoughts.
“He talked about you a lot.”
She didn’t know why…but suddenly she was scared to read the next message.
“He met with an accident… 3 weeks ago.”
Everything went silent.
“He used to keep saying your name… even in the hospital he saw ur photo at last .”
Her vision blurred.
Her chest felt tight.
“And… there’s something you should know…”
She couldn’t breathe properly now.
“He had a scheduled message saved… but I didn’t see it earlier…”
Another pause.
Then she received a screenshot.
It was a message.
From him.
Her phone slipped from her hand.
All this time…
She thought he left her.
She thought she wasn’t enough.
She thought she got replaced.
But the truth?
He didn’t leave.
He was taken.
And she…
was still waiting for a reply
that was never meant to come.
That night, for the first time in her life…
she didn’t cry loudly.
No screaming. No breakdown.
Just silent tears…
falling on a screen
that would never light up again.
And somewhere in her unread messages…
there was still one last text she text
“Come back… I’m still here.”But this time…
no one was on the other side to say—
“Hey… you seem quiet. You okay?”
The end? Bruhh god have a different fucked up plan always which we never expect.
Two months later, she was at a local mall in her city, trying to breathe again. She sat at a café, staring at her phone, still scrolling through their old chats.
A voice at the next table caught her
"Yeah, then I told her that I passed away due to accident with bad news. You should have seen the stickers she sent—pure heartbreak. Easiest grand I ever made lmaoo”
She froze. The voice. It was deep, melodic, with that specific rasp she had heard in a hundred voice notes.
She turned slowly.
It was a guy. Young, healthy, wearing an expensive watch. He was sitting with two other guys, their phones out on the table. They were all on her contacts.
Guy 1: “Wait, did you actually kill the (his name)account? That one had 10k followers.”
Him: “Had to. The girl (SHE) was getting too clingy. Wanted to meet up. I had to kill him off to start fresh. Check this out—this is my new one: 'Arjun_Broken.' I'm using the 'Dead Brother' script this time. Hits the older girls right in the feels.”
He laughed. It was the same laugh that used to tuck her into sleep.
She didn't scream. She didn't throw her coffee. She felt a coldness she didn't know existed. She pulled out her phone and logged into a fake ID.
She searched for "Arjun_Broken."
She sent a message:“Hey... I saw your profile. You look like you’ve been through a lot. Do you need someone to talk to?”
She watched him. He looked at his phone, a smirk spreading across his face.
His reply (on her screen): “Heyy Hi yes actually I need someone beside me my brother was everything to meee n bla blah emotional dramassss as you’ll knowww.”
He looked up, scanning the mall for his next "mark," his eyes passing right over HER. He didn't recognize her. To him, she was never a face. She was just a blue bubble on a screen that paid for his watch.
The End: She stood up, walked over to his table, and placed her phone face-up in front of him. On the screen was the photo of her at the beach—the one his brother said he "looked at while he was dying."
She didn't say a word. She just watched the blood drain from his face as he realized the "ghost" was standing right in front of him.
But as she walked away, she heard him turn to his friends and whisper: "Whatever. Plenty more 'angels' in this Malaysia . Someone find me a non dramatic from other religion, they're the most loyal."
The cycle didn't break. Only she did.
(Are you crying yet? Because the worst part is... she’s still going to check his profile tonight just to see if he’s 'typing.')
Blah blah: My hotty boys, a tiny note for you all.
This is written purely from my point of view. When you read it, feel free to flip the roles and imagine yourself in the girl’s place if you want.
And please… let’s skip the “not all boys are the same” speech this time, okay? I already know that
as I got my Katti Thangom In my lyfe.This isn’t a debate, it’s an expression. Raw, honest, and yes— with truth in it .
Last edited:
.At first few lines when I read i was happy but further reading down and to make believe u dead acting kind of things is too much.I feel sorry for that really and yeah there are people who do shit like this still but in ur situation it's kind of difficult and a tough pill to swallow.Cheer up u learnt a lesson and it might be hard to get through that so keep on moving winii..
But it’s not myy storyy yarr
