A Love That Time Forgot
It was the kind of love people write poems about — soft, warm, and quietly powerful. Ayaan and Riya had known each other since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood, sharing secrets under the banyan tree, and watching the stars together when the world felt too heavy.
They never had to say "I love you." It was in the way Ayaan carried Riya’s books, or how Riya saved the last piece of chocolate just for him. Their bond grew with time, blossoming from friendship into a silent romance. Everyone around them knew — even if they never made it official.
After college, Ayaan got a scholarship to study abroad. Riya, who had always dreamed of being a school teacher, stayed back in their small town. Before he left, Ayaan held her hand and said, “Wait for me. Just a few years. Then we’ll have the life we dreamed of.”
She smiled, tears shining in her eyes. “I’ll wait, even if it takes forever.”
For the first year, they talked daily. Video calls, letters, shared dreams. But as months passed, distance began to dull the connection. Ayaan got busy with his new life. Riya understood, but every day without his call felt like a little goodbye.
Then came the silence.
Weeks passed. Then months. Her messages went unread, her letters unanswered. She told herself he was just busy. That he still loved her. That he hadn’t forgotten.
One day, she saw a photo online — Ayaan with another girl, his arms around her, both smiling like nothing else mattered. Her heart broke, quietly and completely.
Years passed, and Riya buried herself in her work. She never told anyone, but a part of her was still waiting. She never deleted Ayaan’s number. Never stopped visiting their tree every year on the date he left. She became known in town as the kind woman with sad eyes.
Then, one evening, Ayaan returned. Older, wiser — and filled with regret. He came back to find her, to apologize, to explain. He had fallen into depression, lost direction, and didn't know how to face her after everything.
He found her sitting under the banyan tree, still as graceful, still as kind. But she looked at him like she was seeing a memory, not a man.
“I waited, Ayaan,” she whispered. “But you never came.”
“I’m here now,” he said, voice shaking.
She smiled, a sad, quiet smile. “Some stories are only beautiful because they ended too soon.”
She stood up, walking away with the same grace he once fell in love with — leaving him with nothing but the echo of what could have been.
Sometimes, love doesn’t end with hate or anger. Sometimes, it ends with silence, a soft goodbye, and a heart that keeps beating with pieces missing.
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