Last Night

It was just a regular Tuesday. Or at least, that’s how it looked.

I had made dinner around 8:30 p.m. — just some roasted vegetables, a bit of garlic, oregano, and olive oil. Nothing fancy, just the kind of meal that feels like a quiet hug after a long day. I always find vegetables oddly comforting. Maybe it’s because growing up, my mom used to make this same dish when things felt heavy in the house. Simple food can feel like a memory you didn’t know you needed.

I had no plans beyond a late cup of chai and an old film. The kind of night that usually slips away without much thought.

But there was something in the air last night. A strange stillness. No traffic noises outside, no messages buzzing on my phone, not even a barking dog in the street. The silence was so thick that I could hear the ticking of the wall clock like it was a drumbeat.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a moment where you feel like something’s coming, but you don’t know what. That’s how I felt.

At 11:40 PM, I got a message.

It was from Amaan.

We hadn’t spoken in nearly five years. Once upon a time, we were best friends — the kind who’d stay up all night talking about dreams, failures, nonsense, and everything in between. But like so many friendships, life got in the way. Distance. Career. Silence. No fights. Just… drifting.

The message read:

“Can we talk? Just for a few minutes.”

I stared at the screen for a while. My first thought was—why now?

But then I thought, Maybe he needs something. Maybe this message wasn’t easy to send. And I realized that if the roles were reversed, I’d want someone to answer.

So I replied:
“Yeah, sure. Calling you now.”

When I heard his voice, I knew something wasn’t right. He sounded... different. Not sad exactly, but tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix.

There was a long pause before he said anything meaningful. I didn’t rush him. Sometimes, just being quiet together is its own kind of comfort.

Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve been carrying stuff for a long time,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t know who else to talk to. I guess I needed someone who knew me before everything changed.”

That line. It felt like a crack in a dam.

He told me about the things he had never spoken out loud before — how he lost his father last year, how he’d been struggling with anxiety, and how lonely it felt living in a city where no one really knows you, even if you're surrounded by people.

He paused again. “I thought I had everything sorted. A job. A place to live. But inside, I feel like I’m just... floating.”

We talked for three hours.

Sometimes, we just sat in silence.

Other times, we laughed about dumb things from our teenage years — like the time we tried to cook pasta in a kettle or when we stayed up all night arguing about whether dreams had meanings.

And then we talked about now. About the way life has this habit of swallowing you whole before you even realize it.

He told me he hadn’t really opened up to anyone in years. Not because people didn’t care, but because he didn’t want to feel like a burden. And yet, last night, he said he just... broke. And his first instinct was to reach out to someone who remembered him before he had to pretend he was okay.

After we hung up, it was almost 3 a.m. I didn’t even notice how late it had gotten. My tea had gone cold. The lights were still off. But my heart felt... heavy and light at the same time.

I just sat there, thinking.

Thinking about how many people are quietly holding it together. How many are walking around with a smile and a storm underneath. How often we say “I’m fine” when we’re not. And how easy it is to drift away from people we once couldn’t imagine life without.

Last night didn’t change the world. But it changed something in me.

It reminded me that being there for someone doesn’t require the perfect words or the right advice. Sometimes, all someone needs is for you to listen without judgment, to remind them that they’re not invisible.

I think everyone has that one person in their life. The one they turn to when everything feels too much. Last night, I got to be that person for someone I had almost lost to time.

And you know what? It made me realize how much we all need each other — not on social media, not in filtered photos — but in quiet, real, honest conversations.

We often wait too long to say the things that matter.

If Amaan hadn’t messaged me, I would’ve gone to sleep thinking it was just another Tuesday. Instead, I ended the night reminded that connection, even in its simplest form, is the most powerful thing we have.




Final Thoughts

I couldn’t sleep much after the call. But I wasn’t tired either. I felt like something old and gentle had returned. A piece of me I didn’t realize I missed.

We don’t always get moments like that. So when they come, they deserve to be remembered.

Last night wasn’t loud or dramatic. But it was real.

And sometimes, real is everything.