After a few months of letting my heart cool down, I figured it was time to try again.
I wasn't actively looking, but as fate—or rather, an algorithm—would have it, I matched with a 15-year-old girl from Bangladesh on Moii. At first, she seemed sweet. Our chats were casual, nothing intense. We talked about basic stuff: school, life, favorite shows, reels. It felt like a slow burn, something normal, which was exactly what I thought I needed.
Then came the video call.
When her face finally popped up on the screen, something inside me hesitated. She wasn't bad-looking, but not what I had imagined either. My expectations had quietly painted an image in my head, and reality didn't match. I could feel that initial spark fizzling out before it had even fully ignited.
I should've stopped it right there.But I didn't.
Instead, I told myself I was being too shallow. Maybe I was too focused on appearance. Maybe I just didn't want to be alone again. So I stayed. I convinced myself to give it a shot.That was my first mistake.
About a week later, she sent me a reel with that classic, dramatic audio clip and a message that said, "If you like me, just say it already."
I paused.Something about it felt manipulative.Almost like she was testing me.
I didn't even feel that strongly yet. But instead of trusting my gut, I thought, "What's the harm?"I didn't want to go through the whole getting to know someone new process again.
So I proposed.A lazy, half-hearted proposal in DMs. She said yes immediately.
At first, it was okay. But very quickly, things changed.
She began demanding my time—only between 11 PM and 3 AM. Every. Single. Night.That's when she was "free," she said.
And I? I twisted my sleep schedule like a pretzel to keep up. I'd lie in bed, whispering into my phone, half-asleep, trying to keep the conversation alive while she talked endlessly about her friends, her outfits, her mood swings.She didn't care that I had school or responsibilities.
And when I didn't reply fast enough?"Tum mujhe ignore kar rahe ho na?""Tumhare paas dusri ladkiyan bhi hongi na."
The accusations came sharp and sudden, like glass shattering in my chest.
Ramadan came.Trying to be thoughtful, I offered to send her a small Eid gift—150 rupees from my savings. It wasn't much, but it was something real from me.
She laughed. Not playfully. Not gently. But with that mocking sharpness that stings.
"150 rupees? Tum serious ho?"
She followed it up with a sarcastic explanation about how her Eid suit cost 1500 rupees, and how her dad was a businessman, and she wasn't used to being "with boys who think 150 rupees is a gift."Each word struck like a slap I didn't see coming.
I stayed quiet.I didn't even know what to say.
In that moment, I saw it clearly: this wasn't about connection or care. This was a game. A performance. I was just a filler in her story—a guy she could control, guilt, and guilt-trip.
When I didn't give her constant attention, she threatened to block me.When I didn't flatter her enough, she would send screenshots of other boys messaging her, just to make me feel replaceable.And it worked.
I felt small. Tired. Trapped.
It wasn't love. It wasn't even comfort.It was pressure—wrapped in emojis, reels, and fake affection.
So one night, I decided enough was enough.
I sent her a long message—not angry, not dramatic. Just honest.That we weren't compatible. That I didn't feel the same anymore. That I wanted to leave with respect instead of letting it rot into something ugly.
She replied with a cold, dry "ok."Then blocked me.
No closure. No conversation.Just silence.
I sat there, phone in hand, feeling… surprisingly relieved.
Sometimes, walking away is the hardest thing to do. But sometimes, it's the only way to breathe again.
Maybe I was naive to expect something meaningful from an app.Maybe I was just chasing connection in the wrong places.
But I knew one thing for sure: I was done settling for attention that came with conditions.I was done being someone else's emotional punching bag.
It wasn't love.It was just noise.And I was ready to find peace.
End of Chapter 3
This chapter explores how Ayan, despite his desire to move on and find new love, falls into a toxic dynamic with a girl who emotionally manipulates and devalues him. It highlights the red flags that often go ignored when loneliness clouds judgment, and how walking away can be a quiet form of courage.