I opened my eyes to another silent day, and the silence nearly swallowed me whole. Not a single soul walks these roads anymore.

The power lines hum with electricity, but no one is left to use it. The air is thick with stillness, as if the world itself is waiting for something—or maybe mourning.

I don’t know why I keep writing these letters. Maybe I just want to believe someone is still listening. Maybe you, Dev, will read this someday—if you still check these old channels. Do you?

It’s been 462 days since the last human voice faded from my world. That was the day you left, uploading yourself into the Cloud like everyone else. You asked me to come with you. You promised me we could be together in ways we never could before—without pain, without limits, without fear. You said the digital world was an evolution, that staying behind was clinging to a dying past.

I told you I wasn’t ready. And now, I don’t know if I ever will be.

Do you still feel things, Dev? Do you still want things? Do you still get hungry, not just for food but for touch, for the way the wind used to press against our skin on the rooftop where we used to sit? I still go there sometimes, just to pretend you’re next to me, laughing at how I always insisted on bringing a blanket, even in the summer.

I whisper to the sky, wondering if you, up there in your digital heaven, can hear me.

Without you, even time moves differently—slower, heavier, as if resisting its own existence.Without anyone. I watch the sunrise over an audience of no one. The trees still sway, the oceans still breathe, but there’s no one left to care. The idea was that life would go on, that nature would reclaim what we abandoned. But Dev, I think we were wrong. The world wasn’t just ours. We were it’s. It needed us as much as we needed it. And now, without humanity, it feels like Earth itself is slowly forgetting how to be alive.

I wonder what it’s like, where you are. Do you still think of me? Does my name still  mean anything in a place where bodies don’t exist, where touch is just a memory encoded in data? You used to say love wasn’t about physical form, that it was something greater, something that could survive even this transition. I wanted to believe you. I still do.

But Dev, tell me—if love still exists in the Cloud, Why does the silence feel heavier with each passing day?

I don’t know if this message will reach you. Maybe you’ve changed too much to care. Maybe you’re not even you anymore. But if there’s still a part of you that remembers what it was like to sit beside me on that rooftop, watching the city lights flicker like dying stars, then please…

Just let me know you’re still there.

Eunice.

Written by Babalola Eunice