After a few months of letting my heart cool down, I figured it was time to try again.
I wasn't even looking seriously, but curiosity pulled me toward dating apps. I made accounts, tried swiping, but got banned again and again. Underage. Rules didn't care about heartbreak.
Then one day, I found an app called Moii, where you could voice call random people. That's where it happened—I matched with a girl. At first, she seemed sweet. Our convo was light—school, life, reels. Nothing heavy, nothing serious. It felt normal, almost boring, but in a way I thought I needed. A slow burn after all the drama.
Then came the video call.
The moment her face appeared, I froze. She was bad looking, but not what my mind had pictured. My expectations had silently drawn an image that reality couldn't match. And right there, the spark fizzled before it even caught fire.
I should have ended it then but I didn't and I told myself I was being shallow, that I shouldn't judge. Maybe I was just scared of being alone again. So I stayed. That was my first mistake.
A week later, she sent me a reel with dramatic audio and text—"If you like me, just say it already."
Something about it felt manipulative. Like she was testing me.
I didn't even feel that strongly. But I thought, "What's the harm? Mujhe phir se naye se start bhi toh nahi karna."
So I proposed. A lazy DM proposal. (let's just try..)She said yes instantly.
And that's where the trap began.
She started demanding my time—every night, only between 11 PM and 3 AM. "That's when I'm free," she said.
So I twisted my sleep, whispering into my phone half-asleep while she ranted about friends, outfits, mood swings. My school, my mornings, my health—none of it mattered.
When I didn't reply fast enough, the accusations came sharp:"Tum mujhe ignore kar rahe ho na?" (are you ignoring me??)"Tumhare paas dusri ladkiyan bhi hongi na?" (you have more girls right??))
Each word cut deeper than silence.
Then came a festival.
I was playing roleplay with her and told her: I wants to do something special, I offered to send her a small gift—150 rupees from my own savings. It wasn't much, but it was mine. It was real.
She laughed. Not sweetly. Not softly. But sharply."150 rupees? Tum serious ho?(are u serious?)"
She reminded me how her suit alone cost 1500, how her father a businessman, how she wasn't used to "boys who think 150 rupees is a gift."
Each word felt like a slap.
I stayed quiet. I had nothing to defend with. And in that silence, I finally saw what this was: not care, not connection—just a game.
When I didn't give attention, she threatened to block me.When I didn't flatter her enough, she sent screenshots of other boys messaging her, just to remind me I was replaceable and it worked. I felt small. Tired. Trapped.
This wasn't love.This wasn't even comfort.It was pressure—wrapped in emojis, reels, and fake affection.
One night, I decided enough was enough.
I typed a long message—not angry, not dramatic. Just honest. That we weren't compatible. That I just wanted to move on. That it was better to end it now than let it rot.
Her reply was one word:"ok."
Then she blocked me.
No closure. No goodbye. Just silence.
And for the first time, I felt… relieved.
Sometimes, walking away is the hardest thing to do.But sometimes, it's the only way to breathe again.
Maybe I was stupid to expect something real from an app. Maybe I was just chasing connection in the wrong places.
But one thing was clear:I was done with love that came with conditions.I was done being someone's emotional punching bag.
It wasn't love.It was just noise.And I was ready for peace.
Actually, the truth is simple. The girl was bad looking. She was bad for me. Aahan looked a thousand times better than her—in every way. But because he wanted to move on from his first heartbreak, he forced himself into a relationship he never truly wanted. That was the real mistake.
— Written by Ayan