I Miss You.. When the Moon Became Their Secret

By Tahani Elghazaly
Published June 10, 2026

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By Omaima Abdelaziz

The first meeting was pure coincidence. In an online literary group, they met over a poem. She admired his sensitivity, and he admired her language. The conversation began simply: “Where are you from?” And there she was, in Brazil, while he was in Morocco.

Three years. Three years of phone calls that stretched until dawn, of photos sent early in the morning: “This is my coffee,” “This is the morning sun here.” They came to know each other’s details before ever meeting face to face. They learned how to love through screens, how to touch imagination and miss reality even more.

They made a thousand plans. Plane tickets remained a distant dream, and the cost of travel stood between them like a mountain. Their income was not enough, and the bank account exposed every dream. “I will work more,” he would say. “I will save,” she would reply. But the days passed, prices kept rising, and life did not wait.

On the night of the decision, he sat in front of the camera, his eyes red. She said to him, “I can no longer bear this distance.” He said, “Neither can I.” But they both knew: no money, no plane, no meeting. Only a screen standing between them and an entire lifetime.

Gradually, they stopped calling. Each of them tried to erase the other from memory, but memory is stubborn. He deleted the messages, yet he kept repeating her words. She changed her number, yet she continued waiting for a ring that never came.

A full year of silence passed. Then, on a moonlit night, he went out walking alone. Suddenly, he raised his head toward the full moon. He remembered that she had once said, “The moon is the only thing that sees us together.” He smiled sadly and looked at it for a long time.

At that very moment, on the other side of the ocean, she was standing by her window. She raised her eyes to the same moon. She was never meant to know that he was looking at it at the exact same moment.

From that night on, the moon became their secret address. Whenever one of them missed the other, they would lift their eyes to the sky and ask in silence: “Do you see it now? Is she looking at it as I am?”

No messages. No calls. No knowledge. Only a mysterious certainty in the heart: that the one you once loved is still looking at the same moon, at some moment of every night, and remembering.

I miss you, you who do not know that I am still here, faithful to the promise for as long as I live.