The Last Message I Never Replied To

It was almost midnight when my phone buzzed. I was lying in bed, scrolling absentmindedly through social media, half-asleep. At first, I thought it was just another notification from some random app, but when I glanced at the screen, I froze.

It was a text message.
From an unknown number.
And it read:

“Don’t forget what we planned. Time is running out.”

My heart raced. For a second, I thought maybe it was spam or a wrong number. But something about the message didn’t feel random. It was personal—like the sender knew me.


---

The Uneasy Curiosity

I sat up in bed, wide awake now, staring at the glowing screen. Who could it be? My first instinct was to text back: “Sorry, who is this?” But something stopped me. A strange mix of fear and curiosity kept my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Instead, I decided to wait. Maybe they’d text again.

Minutes passed. Nothing.

I finally gave in and typed a cautious reply:

“Who are you? What plan?”

But just as I was about to hit send, the message vanished. Literally. The text bubble disappeared from my phone as if it had never been there.

I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. Checked again. Nothing. My inbox was empty.


---

The Investigation

The next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. At work, my mind drifted. Over lunch, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Could it have been a prank? A friend messing with me?

I asked a couple of close friends if they had sent me a weird message last night. They all denied it, laughing at my paranoia.

That evening, I dialed the number. My heart pounded as the line rang. Once. Twice. Then:

“This number is not in service.”

Impossible. How could I have received a text from a dead number?


---

The Connection

Days turned into a week, but the memory of that text haunted me. I kept replaying the words in my mind: “Don’t forget what we planned. Time is running out.”

Then it hit me.

A year ago, I had made plans with my best friend, Daniel. We had grown up together, inseparable since childhood. But after high school, life pulled us in different directions. I got busy with college. He got tangled in his own struggles.

We had promised each other we’d meet up one summer, just the two of us, to relive the old days. But I never followed through.

And then—last year—Daniel passed away in a car accident.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Could the message have been from him? A glitch, a recycled number, or… something else?


---

The Unanswered Truth

I’ll never know for sure. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe a technical error. Or maybe—just maybe—it was Daniel’s way of reminding me not to waste time, not to take promises lightly.

I never got another message from that number. I never had the chance to reply.

But those words—“Time is running out”—stayed with me.

They changed the way I lived.

Now, I call my parents more often. I reconnect with old friends. I don’t put off plans, thinking there will always be another tomorrow. Because sometimes, tomorrow doesn’t come.


---

Closing Reflection

We all have messages we never replied to. Calls we ignored. Plans we postponed. Words left unsaid.

But life is fragile, and time moves faster than we realize.

That night, a single mysterious text taught me something no lecture or book ever could:

Never wait too long to say what you need to say.

Because one day, the message might vanish—and so might the chance.