arindalee

In the dimly lit bar, our souls collided—a symphony of missed notes and unspoken truths. We sat side by side, our gazes drawn to the window, where the city's heartbeat pulsed beyond the glass.

And then, like a fragile whisper, he shattered the quiet. “Let's break up,” he murmured, the words hanging in the air like dew-kissed petals. My heart stuttered, caught between anticipation and dread.

“What did you say?” I asked, my voice swallowed by the cacophony around us. I turned to him, seeking refuge in his eyes.

“Let's break up,” he repeated, louder this time. The words I secretly yearned for—the ones that would set us both free—felt like shards of glass against my skin. Painful, yet inevitable.

But then, sincerity danced in his gaze. “I really like you”  he confessed, his smile a fragile bridge between us. It was a bittersweet revelation—the kind that leaves echoes in empty rooms and unanswered questions in the night.

I mirrored his smile, my fragile mask. “Me too, I am very grateful” I whispered. For the stolen moments, the shared laughter, and the way our hearts had brushed against each other like whispered secrets.

In that crowded bar, we unraveled—a tapestry of beginnings and endings. And as we parted ways, I carried the weight of our unspoken love—the beauty of what could have been, and the ache of what was.