Why won't he talk to me anymore?

You are seeing an absence, and an absence can be read a hundred ways. That is the problem with it. Every reading you make is made by you, in your head, with no new information.

So look at the one thing you do have, which is the timing. Scroll back to the last normal day. Note what happened in the week before it. A fight is one answer. A week where the two of you got closer than before is another, and that is the shape this page is about.

Sudden silence after closeness does not look like leaving. It looks like nothing. That is why you cannot point at it, and why asking about it makes you feel like you are making it up.

There is a file in this archive about a person who goes quiet when things get close. It is called The Disappearing Pattern: it fires when things go right, not when they go wrong. It is written for the person running it, about their own body, and it says nothing about him.

The shape it describes starts small. Closeness arrives. A few seconds later the chest tightens, and the person reaches for distance before deciding anything. One unanswered message becomes two. After a week, answering feels harder than not answering, and the silence runs itself.

From where you stand, you cannot see whether that is what is happening. You can only see that it stopped. What you can do is stop treating the silence as a sentence written about you.

Silence that arrives after a good week is not a judgment on the week. It is what a tight chest did with it.

It is not the last thing you said. You have read it fifty times. If it was ordinary when you sent it, it is still ordinary now.

It is not something you can reach with a better message. A silence that has lasted a week is not waiting for the right words. More words give it more to step back from.

And it is not yours to fix. If a pattern is running, it runs in a body you are not in, in a few seconds you cannot reach. There is no sentence that gets into those seconds from outside.

Notice what happens in you when you open the thread and nothing has changed. The drop in the stomach. The tightening across the chest. The thumb already moving toward his profile.

Send one message, if you have not already. Plain, short, and a question with a plain answer: I have noticed you have gone quiet, and I would like to know what is going on. Then put the phone down.

Do not send a second one. The second message is you doing both halves of a conversation. The third is you arguing with a silence, and a silence does not lose arguments.

Decide on a quiet day how long you are available to wait. A number of days. When it passes, you stop waiting, out loud, to yourself. That is not a threat to him. It is a decision for you.

Stop checking his pages. Mute if you have to. Every view is a small message to yourself that the silence is still the most important thing in your day.

Check what has changed in you. Whether you have gone quiet with other people while you wait. Whether you refresh a page that has not changed. Whether you have started to draft messages you do not send.

Each of those is a small withdrawal of your own, and withdrawal has a file. Waiting on someone who has gone quiet is not loyalty. It is a behavior, and it has been running in you for a while.

This page cannot see him, so it cannot say. What it can say is that a silence which began all of a sudden has a date, and the date is more useful than any theory. Scroll back to the last normal day and look at what came before it. If what came before was a good week, you are not reading a reaction to something you did. Then send one plain message, put the phone down, and decide how many days you are available to wait.

A view is not a message. A like is not a message. They cost nothing, and they ask nothing, which is exactly why they are the only contact a tight chest can still manage. From your side they read as a signal, and so you post for an audience of one. Stop. Post what you would post if he could not see it, or post nothing for a week. The view count is not a conversation, and reading it as one keeps you in a conversation that only you are having.

After a breakup, the silence is often the whole message, and this page cannot tell you whether that changes. What it can tell you is what to do with your side. If you have sent one message, you have done the part that is yours. Do not send another. Do not route a question through a friend. Set a day on which you stop waiting, and mean it. Silence after an ending is information about the ending. It is not information about what you are worth.

Every day is a standard, and it is worth asking where it came from. If he talked every day until last month and does not now, that is a change, and a change has a date. Look at it. If he never talked every day, or goes quiet on weekends, you are measuring him against a rhythm he did not agree to. Say what you want, once, in plain words: I would like to hear from you on the days we are apart. Then see whether it holds, rather than counting.

Time with family, with friends, or with his children is time with a different job in it, and silence inside it is often a schedule rather than a verdict. Look at whether it is only then. If he is warm on the other days, this is a rhythm, and the thing to do is say what you want once and then leave the weekend alone. If the silence is everywhere now and those days are only where you notice it most, the rest of this page is the page to read.

Some people read this page about him and recognize the tight chest and the unanswered message from the other side. If that just happened, the first-person file is written for you, about your own body, rather than about anyone else's.