The weekend had arrived, and with it, the gnawing anxiety of knowing Zaiba and Anas were spending the day together. It was their movie day—the day Zaiba had been so excited about. While she'd casually mentioned it, trying to make it seem like no big deal, I couldn't ignore the reality. This wasn't just about a movie or studying afterward. It was about the growing connection between them, and the distance I could feel stretching between me and Zaiba.
I spent most of that Sunday in my room, trying to distract myself with books, video games, anything. But nothing could hold my attention. My mind was fixated on what they were doing. What movie were they watching? Were they sitting close, laughing together, sharing jokes, or even worse, secrets? And then there was the studying afterward. That was what really got to me—the idea of them alone, at Anas's house, her leaning in close as he explained something I could never grasp as effortlessly as he could. The very thought of it made my chest tighten.
I stared at my phone all afternoon, hoping for some sign that Zaiba was still thinking about me, some little message that would tell me I hadn't been completely forgotten. But the screen remained stubbornly dark, void of any notifications. She was too busy, too wrapped up in her time with Anas to remember me. I tossed the phone aside, but the ache in my chest only grew stronger.
When Monday finally rolled around, I was exhausted from the constant stream of worry and overthinking. I had hoped that seeing Zaiba would ease some of that anxiety, that maybe things wouldn't be as bad as I had imagined. But as soon as I walked into school, I spotted her—and everything I feared was real.
Zaiba was with Anas, standing by the lockers, laughing about something. They looked so… natural together. The kind of easy connection that used to be mine. She glanced at me, gave a quick wave, but didn't come over. I was just an afterthought, a passing figure in her new world. It stung.
Later that day, she finally came over to say hello, but the conversation was hollow, forced.
"Hey, Affan!" Zaiba greeted me with a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "How's it going?"
I tried to smile back, tried to act like I wasn't completely falling apart inside. "I'm okay. How was the movie?"
Her eyes lit up as she talked about the day she spent with Anas. "Oh, it was so much fun! We saw this amazing film, and after that, Anas helped me with some math stuff. He's really good at explaining things, you know? I think it's finally starting to make sense!"
Every word felt like a punch to the gut. Anas this, Anas that. I forced a smile, the kind that you give when you want to seem happy but feel nothing but emptiness. "That's great."
She barely noticed my lack of enthusiasm. Her attention was already drifting back to Anas, who was standing a few feet away, talking to some friends. She turned back to me for a second, giving me a light shrug. "Anyway, I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
And just like that, she was gone, back to Anas. Back to the new center of her universe. I watched her go, feeling utterly invisible.
As the days passed, this became the new normal. Zaiba would come over to say hi or send me a message here and there, but it was never the same. We didn't have the long, meaningful conversations we used to. Everything she said seemed shallow, like she was just checking in because she felt she had to, not because she really wanted to.
She spent more and more time with Anas. They started hanging out together after school, going to coffee shops or heading back to his place to study. I would see them in the hallways, laughing and joking, and each time I saw them, it felt like a piece of me was being torn away.
There were days when I tried to avoid them altogether, taking different routes through the school just to spare myself the pain of seeing them together. But no matter how hard I tried to stay out of sight, I couldn't escape it. They were everywhere—at lunch, after school, on social media. Zaiba would post pictures of them hanging out, smiling, having fun, while I scrolled through the photos, feeling like an outsider looking in on a world I no longer belonged to.
It wasn't just the time they spent together that hurt—it was the way she spoke about him when she did talk to me. Every conversation seemed to come back to Anas. She would tell me about how smart he was, how much fun they had studying together, how he explained things to her in ways that made her understand. She was getting closer to him, and I could feel her slipping further and further away from me.
The more they hung out, the less she messaged me. Our conversations became sporadic, just a few short texts here and there, with her telling me how busy she was with school or how she had plans with Anas and his friends. I tried to reach out, tried to keep our connection alive, but every response felt like it was coming from someone else. Zaiba was drifting away, and I was powerless to stop it.
One Friday afternoon, I found myself walking home alone, passing by the coffee shop where Zaiba and I used to hang out after school. Without thinking, I glanced through the window, and there they were—Zaiba and Anas, sitting together at one of our old spots. She was laughing at something he said, her eyes bright and full of joy. They looked so comfortable, so natural, as if they had known each other forever. It was the kind of easy, effortless connection that I used to share with her.
I stood there for a moment, frozen. Did she even remember the times we'd spent in that very spot? Did those memories mean anything to her anymore? Or had Anas already taken my place in her life, in her heart?
I turned away before they could see me, my heart heavy with a sadness that felt unbearable. As I walked home, I tried to convince myself that I was overreacting, that Zaiba still cared about me, that I wasn't being replaced. But deep down, I knew the truth. The more time she spent with Anas, the more I faded into the background.
By the time I got home, the weight of everything had become too much to bear. I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. How had things changed so quickly? How had Zaiba gone from being my best friend, my constant companion, to someone I barely recognized? And how had I let it happen?
I picked up my phone, hoping for some kind of message from her, some sign that I still mattered. But there was nothing. No texts, no missed calls, no notifications. I was alone, just like I had been for the past few weeks, and it was clear that Zaiba wasn't coming back.
That night, as I lay in bed, I allowed myself to face the truth I had been avoiding for so long: Zaiba was moving on without me. The bond we once shared, the connection that had meant everything to me, was fading away. She had found someone else to fill the space I had once occupied, and no matter how hard I tried, there was nothing I could do to change it.
I thought back to all the times we'd spent together, the countless memories we'd made. The late-night talks, the inside jokes, the moments of laughter and support that had defined our friendship. They felt like a lifetime ago, like they belonged to a different version of us—a version that no longer existed.
As the tears welled up in my eyes, I realized that I had been holding on to something that was already gone. I had been clinging to the idea of what Zaiba and I used to be, desperately trying to preserve a friendship that had already slipped through my fingers. And in doing so, I had only caused myself more pain.
The tears finally spilled over, and I didn't try to stop them. I cried for everything I had lost, for the friendship that had once been so strong but had now crumbled into nothing. I cried because I didn't know how to move forward without her, and because I wasn't ready to let her go.
But as the tears flowed, I knew that I had to. Zaiba and I were no longer the same. She had moved on, and I had to find a way to do the same, no matter how much it hurt.
By the time the sun began to rise the next morning, I had come to terms with the painful reality: Zaiba was no longer mine to hold on to. She had her own life, her own path, and I wasn't a part of it anymore. The friendship we had shared was over, and I had to accept that.
I didn't know what the future held for me, or for her, but one thing was certain—the chapter of my life that had revolved around Zaiba was coming to a close. And as much as it broke my heart, I had to let her go.
But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder: what was I supposed to do next? How do you move on from losing the person who meant everything to you?
The question hung in the air, unanswered.