Sometimes people don’t need answers, they just need someone who doesn’t leave.
This book didn’t begin with me sitting at a desk. It started in energy park the same park where we used to meet every single day. A place that once felt like home but later became a graveyard of our memories. After you left, I went back there every day, searching for pieces of you in the air, the trees, the water. The bench where we sat, the pond where your reflection would ripple next to mine it all felt so alive, as if mocking the emptiness you left behind. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to hold on to anger, to blame you for ev erything that went wrong. But no matter how hard I try; I’m left with the same thing memories. Memories that refuse to fade. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your dreams, the quiet nights when it felt like the world stopped just for us. That day, though, wasn’t about me. It was about her. I noticed her sitting by the pond, her legs submerged in the murky water. It wasn’t just water, though. I knew this pond well it was home to snakes just beneath the surface. She didn’t care. She sat there, sobbing uncontrollably, as if pouring her entire soul into the air around her. People walked by, some glancing curiously, others pretend ing not to notice. A few even smirked, as if her heartbreak was some twisted form of entertainment. No one stopped to ask if she was okay. I hesitated, unsure if I should approach her. It wasn’t my place. But then I saw it the rawness in her pain, a kind of vul nerability that mirrored my own. Before I could overthink it, I walked up to her and said softly, “Please take your legs out of the pond.” She didn’t even look at me at first. Instead, her sobs grew louder, as if my presence had somehow cracked open a part of her, she’d been trying to hold together. I crouched down beside her and offered her my handkerchief. “Here,” I said gently. “Take it.” Her hands trembled as she reached for it, clutching it like it was the only solid thing in her world. “What happened?” I asked. She didn’t answer. For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t say anything at all. But I didn’t push her. I just sat there quietly, watching the ripples in the water and letting her take her time. After a while, she whispered, “Why does it hurt so much to be left behind by someone who said they loved you?” Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I didn’t have an answer for her because, in truth, I’d been asking myself the same question for months. Over the next few days, she began to open up. Her name was Saumya, and her heartbreak was raw and fresh, like a wound that refused to stop bleeding. She didn’t trust me at first, she kept her words guarded, her tears careful. But slowly, she be gan to let me in. Her questions started to come more freely. “Why do people cheat?” she asked one day, staring at the pond. “Why do they leave after making promises they swore they’d never break?” “How do you stop loving someone who never really loved you back?” Each question hit harder than the last. They weren’t just her questions they were mine too. And as I tried to give her an swers, I realised I was uncovering truths I had buried deep inside myself. Saumya didn’t know it, but her questions became the foun dation of this book. Along with my own unsent letters and sleepless nights, they shaped the chapters to come. This book isn’t just my story it’s hers, too. It’s for everyone who’s ever sat in a park, a room, or anywhere else, crying over someone who left without looking back. It’s for the questions that haunt us in the quietest moments and the answers we might never get. “Loving you was my favourite mistake, and forgetting you is the hardest lesson I’ve ever had to learn.” But maybe, just maybe, this book is the beginning of some thing new for me, for Saumya, and for anyone who finds their own story in these pages.
“Some loves are like sunsets Beautiful, fleeting, impossible to hold. You can’t hate the sun for leaving, But you will always wish it stayed a little longer.”