THE GIRL WHO LOVED AFTER LOSING

THE LANGUAGE OF US

I used to call him Turkey, and he called me Chicken.

We laughed at how silly it sounded, but it became our thing.

When he texted, “Good morning, Chicken,” my heart melted like it was hearing those words for the very first time.

I didn’t need poems or flowers — just that word, that name, that voice…

And I knew I was someone’s favorite person in the world.

We made rules — playful ones.

No foul language, ever.

So when something shocked us or hurt, instead of cursing, we’d say,

“Oh sugar.”

It became a bubble of softness in a hard, cold world.

People around us saw it.

The way we laughed even when nothing was funny.

The way he remembered my cycle, my exams, the tiny moles on my skin.

He’d say things like:

“Chicken, if I had to choose between food and your smile, I’d starve daily.”

And even though it sounded dramatic — I believed him.

There was a night I fell sick — cramps, heavy flow, and emotional chaos.

I didn’t even have to tell him.

He just said, “Are you okay, baby?”

I asked how he knew.

He replied, “Because I know my girl. And I feel you — even in silence.”

That night he stayed on the call, whispering prayers and promises until I fell asleep.

We started imagining a future — not fairy tales, but real-life planning.

We picked baby names, talked about where we’d live, how we’d raise our children.

He wanted a daughter with my eyes.

I wanted a son with his gentle heart.

We dreamed boldly, like the world would never come crashing in.

But even in the sweetness, I noticed something.

Time zones.

Silences.

Pauses that stretched longer than before.

He was preparing to travel — a big move, a new job, a new life.

I cheered him on.

I said, “We’ll make it work.”

He hesitated.

Not because he didn’t love me…

But because he feared the very thing that eventually happened.

He said, “Chicken, promise me. When it gets hard, we’ll talk. Don’t bottle it up.”

I said, “Only if you promise to never let go.”

We sealed it with laughter, with love, with hope.

But sometimes, love isn’t enough.

Sometimes, timing betrays even the most beautiful beginnings.

Still, in those months before the storm, we built a world — private, silly, honest.

A world where two young hearts believed that love could survive anything.

And maybe, just maybe…

That belief was what made the heartbreak so unbearable when it shattered.