The Trigger…

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒔

There’s something about old school memories that lingers longer than we expect.
A certain light blue and white uniform — stitched into the fabric of those early days, still crosses my mind more often than I admit. We were just kids, unaware of how deeply small moments would stay.

I still recall a scene outside the school gate — the kind that never tries to be special, yet somehow becomes unforgettable. She was smiling, mid-bite into a plate of golgappas, and for some reason, that picture stayed. Not because it was dramatic, but because it felt complete in its simplicity.

The last time, though, was different. A still image on a screen. A profile that I somehow knew was about to vanish — and a part of me knew this would be the last time.

A few minutes later, it did.

No goodbye. No message. No closure.
Just silence — the kind that settles quietly and stays for years.

And it has.
It’s been over three years now, and some part of me is still paused there —
not waiting to go back, not hoping for a return…
just still wondering why some goodbyes never find the courage to be said.

Maybe that’s the strange part of growing up. We carry the weight of unsaid things far longer than the ones spoken out loud.