Isha was only fifteen when she fell in love for the first time.
It wasn't a normal love story.It was silent. One-sided. Painfully beautiful.
Every morning, she stood in front of the mirror longer than usual.Not for herself — but for him.
He was in twelfth class.Older. Confident. Popular.
And she was just a girl from ninth class,who had fallen in love with someone far out of her reach.
She didn't even know when it started.
Maybe the first time he smiled in the corridor.Maybe the first time he helped a junior pick up fallen books.Or maybe the first time she saw kindness in his eyes.
From that day, her heart chose him.
He never noticed her.
Yet she noticed everything about him.
The way he laughed with his friends.The way his hair fell on his forehead.The way his voice sounded when he answered teachers.
For him, she was invisible.
But for her, he was everything.
Every day she walked past his classroom slowly,hoping — just once — he would look at her.
But he never did.
Still, she loved him quietly.
Because some loves are not meant to be spoken.They are meant to be felt — alone.
That winter morning, Isha woke up with a burning fever.
Her head was heavy.Her body refused to move.
Her mother touched her forehead and said,"You are not going to school today."
The words hit Isha harder than the fever.
Not going to school meant…
Not seeing him.
The thought made her chest tighten.
What if today he stood in the corridor and she wasn't there?
What if today was the day he finally looked at her?
Tears quietly filled her eyes.
"I'm fine, Maa," she lied."It's just a small headache."
But she wasn't fine.
Her body was weak, but her heart was restless.
She forced herself to get ready.
Every step felt heavy,but the hope of seeing him gave her strength.
When she entered the school gate,the noise of students surrounded her.
Her eyes searched only one face.
And then she saw him.
Standing near the stairs. Laughing with his friends.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Relief washed over her.
A soft smile appeared on her lips.
For a moment, the fever didn't matter.
Only he did.
She stood at a distance, pretending to fix her bag,just so she could look at him a little longer.
That day, she realized something dangerous:
She could ignore her health.She could ignore her pain.
But she could never ignore him.
From that day, Isha began living for small moments.
Not for herself — but for him.
She found reasons to pass his classroom.
Sometimes to borrow chalk.Sometimes to submit a fake note.Sometimes just to drink water near his corridor.
Teachers scolded her often.
But she didn't care.
One second of seeing him was worth every punishment.
She memorized his timetable better than her own.
She knew when he had math class.When he went to the library.When he played in the ground.
Her world slowly started revolving around him.
But he still didn't notice her.
Not even once.
Yet she kept hoping.
Because hope is cruel.
It keeps you alive even when it is killing you.
One afternoon, while sitting with her friends,Isha heard something that froze her heart.
"Do you know?" one girl said,"He already has a girlfriend."
The words didn't make sense.
"What?" Isha whispered.
"Yes. From another section. Everyone knows."
Her ears started ringing.
Her hands turned cold.
It felt like the ground slipped beneath her feet.
She forced a smile and said nothing.
Then she stood up suddenly.
"I think something went into my eye," she lied.
She walked away before anyone could see her tears.
In the empty corridor, she finally broke down.
So this was why he never looked at her.
She was not invisible.
She was just unnecessary.
That day, her silent love received its first wound.
And it hurt more than she ever imagined.
After that day, Isha changed.
She stopped passing his classroom.
She stopped waiting in corridors.
She stopped searching for his face in crowds.
At least… she tried to.
But forgetting someone you never hadis harder than losing someone you did.
At night, she cried silently into her pillow.
During the day, she pretended to be normal.
Her marks dropped.
Her smile disappeared.
Her friends noticed, but she had no words to explain.
How do you explain pain that has no relationship?
How do you mourn a love that never existed?
Slowly, she forced herself to move on.
Not because she healed —but because she was tired of breaking.
By the time she entered tenth class,she made a promise to herself:
"No more falling in love with shadows."
Tuition started for board exams.
New place. New faces.
And a new pair of eyes.
At first, Isha didn't notice him.
She sat in the last bench, focused only on her books.
But someone was noticing her.
Every day.
Quietly.
A boy from the front row.
He didn't stare — he observed.
The way she bit her pen while thinking.The way she smiled at small jokes.The way she stayed silent when others laughed.
He looked at her the way she once looked at someone else.
But Isha was blind to it.
Her heart was still healing.
Sometimes she felt his gaze and looked up.
Their eyes met for a second.
Then both looked away.
Something strange happened inside her chest.
Not love.
Not yet.
Just… a soft confusion.
A question.
"What if this time is different?"
But fear quickly followed.
What if he is just another illusion?
What if she is wrong again?
So she kept distance.
Because a broken heart doesn't fall easily again.
PART 7 — History Repeats Itself
One day, her friend excitedly said,
"I have a new boyfriend!"
Isha smiled weakly.
"Who is he?"
Her friend hesitated, then pointed toward the gate.
Isha turned.
And her heart stopped.
It was him.
The tuition boy.
The same eyes.
The same quiet watcher.
Her chest tightened.
Not again.
Not this again.
Memories rushed back.
Another boy.Another misunderstanding.Another heartbreak waiting to happen.
She warned her friend gently.
"He looks at many girls… not only you."
But her friend refused to believe.
"He truly loves me."
Isha felt helpless.
She had seen this story before.
And she knew how it ended.
But some people must learn pain on their own.
Isha tried many times to warn her friend.
Not angrily.Not forcefully.
Only honestly.
But love makes people blind.
Her friend slowly stopped sharing things with her.
Laughs became formal.Talks became short.
One day, her friend said coldly,
"You are just jealous."
That sentence hurt more than any breakup.
Because Isha was not jealous.
She was scared.
Scared that her friend would fall the same way she once did.
But care often looks like poison to those drunk in love.
Arguments increased.
Misunderstandings grew.
And one day, the friendship broke.
No fight.
No closure.
Just silence.
Two people sitting in the same class,acting like strangers.
Isha lost a friend — again — because of love.
And this time, she wasn't even in love.
School ended.
Life moved forward.
College began.
New campus.New people.New freedom.
Everyone said:
"College changes everything."
And it did.
Slowly, Isha started laughing again.
Not fully healed — but breathing.
She made new friends.
Focused on studies.
Tried to believe that the past was finally over.
She told herself:
"Love is not for me."
Then one ordinary day changed everything.
She missed her bus.
Took an auto instead.
And destiny sat beside her.
A boy entered the auto at the next stop.
Well-dressed.Confident.Different.
He didn't look like someone from her world.
When he got down, a luxury car was waiting.
Isha watched silently.
Some people come into life like storms.
Unexpected.
Powerful.
Unforgettable.
From that day, his face returned to her mind again and again.
She didn't want to like him.
But the heart never asks permission.
Days later, she saw him again.
In her college canteen.
Her heartbeat forgot its rhythm.
He was real.
Not imagination.
They began crossing paths.
A look here.A smile there.
No words.
Yet something was growing.
Slowly, softly.
Dangerously.
Her friends noticed.
"You like him."
She denied.
But her eyes betrayed her.
After years of emotional emptiness,hope returned quietly.
For the first time, she thought:
"Maybe this time… life will be kind."
She decided.
On Valentine's Day, she would confess.
Not dramatically.
Not foolishly.
Honestly.
Because some chances come only once.
And she was tired of living in regret.
Valentine's Day arrived.
Isha's hands were trembling as she held the small gift.
Her heart was racing faster than her steps.
Today, she would finally speak.
No more silence.No more fear.
She reached the café near college where he often stood.
And then she saw him.
Not alone.
Standing beside a girl.
Laughing.
Holding her hand.
Isha froze.
Her breath got stuck in her chest.
Her eyes refused to believe.
She stepped closer.
That was when she heard someone say:
"They are engaged."
The word crashed into her like thunder.
Engaged.
Not girlfriend.
Not maybe.
Engaged.
The gift slipped from her hand.
Her vision blurred.
Everything around her went silent.
She had lost him even before she had him.
Again.
She stood there, numb.
People moved around her.
But she felt invisible.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from a friend:
"I was going to tell you… but I didn't know how."
Tears rolled down her face.
She walked away slowly.
Not running.
Not crying loudly.
Just empty.
At home, she locked her door.
For the first time in years, she allowed herself to break.
She cried for the school boy.She cried for the tuition boy.She cried for the college boy.
Three stories.
Same ending.
She whispered to herself:
"Maybe love is not written in my destiny."
Days passed.
Then weeks.
She stopped going to college for some time.
One evening, her closest friend came to meet her.
She held Isha's hands and said softly,
"What you felt was not love."
Isha looked up in shock.
"What do you mean?"
Her friend continued,
"You were not in love with people.You were in love with hope."
The words hit deep.
She realized:
She never truly knew any of them.
She loved the idea of love.
The dream.
The possibility.
Not the reality.
For the first time, she saw clearly.
Love is not pain.Love is not confusion.Love is not repeated heartbreak.
She finally understood:
What she kept calling love was only attraction.
And attraction fades.
But real love stays.
That night, something inside her changed.
She was still hurt.
But she was no longer broken.
For the first time in her life, Isha stopped running behind love.
She stopped searching for someone to complete her.
She looked at herself.
Really looked.
A girl who had survived three heartbreaks.A girl who never became bitter.A girl who still believed in goodness.
She realized something powerful:
She had never been alone.
She had always had herself.
Slowly, she returned to college.
Focused on her career.
Her goals.
Her future.
She built a life that did not depend on anyone's presence.
For the first time, she felt peaceful.
Not happy.
Not sad.
Just stable.
And that was new.
Years later, Isha stood in front of the mirror again.
Not to impress anyone.
Not to be noticed.
But to recognize herself.
She smiled.
Not because life was perfect.
But because she was strong enough now.
She finally understood:
Every heartbreak had shaped her.
Every incomplete story had prepared her.
She did not lose her life in love.
She found herself through pain.
Some stories end in marriage.
Some end in separation.
And some end in self-discovery.
Hers was the third kind.
She whispered softly:
"Maybe my life was not lost…It was just being rebuilt."
And that is why this story is called:
My Lost Life
Because sometimes, you must lose yourself in pain…To finally find who you truly are.