Hello, friends.
My name is Pradeep.
Four years.
That was how long Mahi and I had been together.
Four years of conversations, memories, arguments, laughter, promises, and countless little moments that had quietly become a part of my life. And then, one day, she was no longer beside me.
I had never imagined that someone's absence could feel so loud.
After Mahi left, I tried to convince myself that I would be fine. I told myself that time would heal everything. But the truth was, I couldn't go even a single moment without thinking about her.
She had somehow become a permanent resident of my mind.
I remembered her while studying.
I remembered her while eating.
I remembered her when I picked up my phone.
And sometimes, I remembered her for no reason at all.
The strange part was that I could still talk to her.
I could send her a message.
I could ask how she was.
But I didn't.
Because somewhere inside me, I felt that I had already caused her enough pain. The last thing I wanted was to become another reason for her sadness.
So I made a decision.
I would stay away.
Not because I had stopped loving her.
But because I thought loving someone sometimes meant knowing when to step back.
At the same time, I was preparing for a government job. I thought perhaps this was my chance to turn all my attention toward my future.
If Mahi isn't going to be a part of my life anymore, I told myself, then at least I can build a life that makes me proud.
I started studying harder.
Some days were surprisingly good. I could sit for hours with my books and completely lose myself in them.
But then there were days when one small thing was enough.
A song.
A photograph.
A random reel.
A familiar place.
And suddenly, four years would come rushing back.
I would open my phone and look at her pictures.
Sometimes I would stare at one photograph for minutes without realizing how much time had passed.
My fingers would move toward the message box.
Should I text her?
I would stop.
Then I would remind myself—
No. Don't disturb her.
So I kept everything inside.
Whenever I missed her too much, I tried to turn that feeling into something useful.
I studied.
I told myself that I had to become something.
Not because I wanted to prove myself to the world.
But because somewhere in my heart, I still wanted Mahi to see that I had changed.
Slowly, my books began replacing some of the space she occupied in my mind.
Not completely.
Never completely.
But enough for me to breathe again.
Whenever I missed her badly, I would put my head down on the table and let myself drift into those memories.
I would remember the old conversations.
The laughter.
The moments that once felt ordinary but now felt priceless.
And sometimes, without even realizing it, I would fall asleep like that.
When I woke up, the heaviness would be a little lighter.
I would open my books again.
And begin studying.
Because life was still moving.
Even though a part of me was still standing somewhere in the past—
with Mahi.