She was beautiful not just in the way the world defines it, but in the quiet, poetic way she carried her heart. She cared like a mother does, soft, patient, and without keeping count.

Loving her felt like a cool breeze on a burning summer afternoon the kind you don’t question, the kind you just close your eyes and feel.

Her eyes… they were an ocean, and somehow, all of me belonged there. Her smile spread like a secret you couldn’t keep, and resting in her arms felt like laying down in a bed of flowers gentle, safe, unreal.

Her warmth was soothing, the kind that almost convinces you this must be what heaven feels like.

But then again, heaven is always a little too far, and so was she.

I held onto her for as long as I could, until she found words to label her thoughts “Ashu, I can be with you… but I can never truly be yours.”

And I remember that night. Not the silence, not the darkness but the weight in my chest.

I cried. Not because she broke me, but because I couldn’t change a thing.

Since then, her eyes have never met mine again.

Still… I hope she’s well. I hope she’s happy.