Last Seen Online

Ayaan used to reply in seconds.

No matter how busy he was, no matter what time it was—her messages always came first. Zara never had to wait, never had to wonder.

“Good morning ☀️”

“Did you eat?”

“Don’t forget your medicine.”

His texts were small, simple things, but they carried a warmth that made her feel seen. Important. Safe.

She built her days around those messages.

But slowly, something changed.

At first, it was barely noticeable. His replies took a little longer. Seconds became minutes. Minutes stretched into hours.

“Sorry, busy,” he would say.

She believed him.

Of course she did.

One night, she sent him a message:

“Hey… everything okay?”

She waited.

One tick.

She stared at the screen, refreshing the chat again and again, as if her waiting alone could push the message through.

“Maybe his phone died,” she whispered to herself.

She placed the phone beside her pillow and kept checking it through the night.

Still one tick.

The next morning, she called him.

“The number you’re trying to reach is switched off.”

Her heart skipped.

She called again.

And again.

Same response.

She opened Instagram.

His profile was still there.

Last seen: yesterday.

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm.

“He’s just busy… maybe traveling… maybe something came up.”

That had to be it.

Hours turned into days.

Days turned into a week.

Her messages kept stacking, one after another:

“Please reply…”

“I’m worried…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m sorry if I did…”

Each one sitting under that same silent mark:

One tick.

It felt louder than any words.

She stopped sleeping properly.

Every notification made her heart race.

Every silence made it sink deeper.

Her world slowly shrank into that chat screen.

Then one evening, while scrolling aimlessly, trying to distract herself, she saw it.

A post.

Not from him.

From someone else.

At first, she didn’t understand what she was looking at.

Then her eyes focused.

A photo of Ayaan.

Smiling.

Framed.

Decorated with flowers.

Her fingers froze mid-scroll.

Her breathing stopped.

The caption beneath it felt unreal, like words that didn’t belong in her world:

"You left too soon. May your soul rest in peace."

Everything inside her collapsed at once.

All the waiting.

All the questions.

All the hope she had been holding onto so tightly.

Gone.

Her hands trembled as she opened their chat again.

That last message still sat there, unchanged:

“Hey… everything okay?”

One tick.

It had always been one tick.

And now she understood why.

Tears blurred her vision as she typed:

“I didn’t know…”

She stared at the screen.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then suddenly—

Two ticks.

Blue.

Her heart stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat.

But the silence that followed was heavier than ever.

Because this time…

there was no one left

to reply.

Sometimes, the last message isn’t ignored… it just arrives too late.