CHAPTER — The Distance Begins
At first—
nothing changed too much.
At least that was what Aiman told himself.
He still replied to Alya's messages.
Still answered Nadia's questions.
Still said good morning.
Still said good night.
Still asked if they had eaten.
Still reminded them to rest.
Everything looked the same.
Except it wasn't.
The messages became shorter.
Slower.
Carefully controlled.
One day—
Alya sent a long message about her work.
Aiman read it.
Twice.
Three times.
But he only replied with one sentence.
"Take care of yourself."
Alya stared at the reply longer than usual.
Normally, he would ask more questions.
Normally, he would joke a little.
Normally, he would stay longer in the conversation.
That night—
he disappeared earlier than usual.
The next day—
Nadia sent him three messages.
Morning.
Afternoon.
Night.
He only replied once.
"Busy today."
That was all.
No explanation.
No story.
No laughter.
No warmth.
Just distance.
Days passed.
Aiman started replying later.
Sometimes hours later.
Sometimes the next day.
Sometimes not at all.
But every time he returned—
he sounded normal again.
As if nothing had changed.
As if everything was still the same.
Except it wasn't.
One evening—
his phone vibrated again.
Alya.
"Are you okay?"
Aiman looked at the message for a long time.
Too long.
Then he typed slowly.
"I'm fine."
Send.
Another message arrived immediately.
"You sound different lately."
He didn't reply.
Instead—
he placed the phone beside him and leaned back against the wall.
His breathing felt heavier tonight.
Slower.
Careful.
He pressed his hand lightly against his chest.
Waited.
Counted his breaths quietly.
One.
Two.
Three.
Still manageable.
Still under control.
Still enough time.
Another vibration.
Nadia.
"You didn't reply yesterday."
He closed his eyes.
"I fell asleep early."
Send.
Another small lie.
Another small protection.
Another step further away from them.
Days continued like that.
Short replies.
Late replies.
Sometimes no replies at all.
And slowly—
his body began to change.
He walked slower.
Sat down more often.
Forgot to finish his meals.
Sometimes he stopped halfway while climbing the stairs.
Sometimes he needed to rest before continuing.
One afternoon—
he almost dropped his phone.
His fingers suddenly felt weak.
He caught it just in time.
He looked at his hand quietly.
Still steady.
Still normal.
At least from the outside.
But he understood now.
Time was moving faster than before.
That night—
his phone vibrated again.
Alya.
"You're avoiding us."
He read the message carefully.
Again.
And again.
Then he placed the phone down without replying.
Minutes passed.
Then another message arrived.
Nadia.
"If something is wrong, you can tell us."
Aiman lowered his head slowly.
His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table.
"I know," he whispered.
"I know."
But knowing was different from telling.
And telling would only make things harder later.
So he chose silence again.
Because distance was easier than goodbye.
And if they slowly got used to his absence now—
maybe
just maybe
it would hurt them less
when he was finally gone.