There was a time when they were inseparable. Elaine, Acielle, and Lorhana—three names that once meant everything to each other. They had been each other’s safe space, their laughter echoing through school hallways, their late-night calls filled with secrets and dreams. If one of them was missing, the other two felt incomplete.
But that was before.
Before life got in the way. Before distance grew between them in ways they never saw coming. Now, they were barely even strangers—people who once knew everything about each other but had somehow forgotten how to say hello.
Elaine still remembers the last time they were all together. It was the summer after graduation, sitting on the rooftop of Acielle’s house, staring at the city lights. They had talked about the future, their fears, their excitement. Lorhana had promised that nothing would change, that no matter where life took them, they would always come back to each other.
But promises are fragile things.
Elaine left for college in the city, consumed by endless exams and new friendships. Lorhana got busy chasing her dream of becoming a writer, drowning in deadlines and manuscripts. Acielle stayed behind, working at her father’s business, watching as the world moved forward without her. The texts became fewer, the calls stopped, and before any of them realized it, they had let go.
It wasn’t a sudden break but a slow, quiet unraveling—missed calls that turned into unread messages, inside jokes that stopped making sense, birthdays that passed without greetings. Maybe none of them wanted to admit it, but life had taken them in different directions, and the bond that once felt unbreakable had worn thin.
Now, years later, Elaine spots Acielle and Lorhana across the café. Her heart stumbles. They haven’t changed much—Acielle still leans back in her chair like she owns the world, Lorhana still twirls her coffee spoon absentmindedly—but something is missing. Something invisible, yet undeniable.
Their eyes meet for a fleeting second—recognition, hesitation, nostalgia. For a moment, she wonders if they feel the same ache she does, the same longing for what they used to be.
She thinks about going over, about breaking the silence, about asking how they’ve been. She wonders if Acielle still listens to that old indie band they loved or if Lorhana still carries a notebook everywhere she goes. She wants to know if they ever think about her, if they ever miss what they had.
But neither of them moves. No smiles, no words. Just a quiet understanding that they are no longer the people they once were.
And maybe that’s the saddest part of all.
As Elaine turns to leave, she tells herself that maybe some things aren’t meant to last forever. Maybe some people are only meant to walk with us for a while before life pulls us in different directions. And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.
Even if it still hurts.