The World I See!

Yes, it hurts. It hurts deep inside, in a way that words can barely explain.

I remember how the sunlight streamed through, creating rainbows that filled our world with colors. Those colors felt like life itself—bright, beautiful, and peaceful. And then, I saw her smile. That smile wasn’t just a curve on her lips; it was a spark that lit up my entire being. She was perfect in the simplest way—no heavy makeup, no pretense. She was real, pure, and stunning just as she was.

It’s amazing how life works. At first, we were just two people, nothing special. But then, like a spark catching fire, everything changed. Suddenly, life was brighter, love was real, and I was flying higher than I ever thought possible.

She brought love back into my broken heart, a love so strong it gave me hope again. I had lost so much—love, trust, and even the will to believe in myself. But she gave me all of that back. With her, I grew. I became a better person, a better father, a better partner. She picked up the broken pieces of my life, and instead of a mess, she created something beautiful—a prism. Through her, I saw light again: light of love, hope, passion, and the joy of simply being alive.

Life felt like a story being rewritten, page by page. The pain and sorrow seemed to fade into the background, replaced by her warmth and laughter. Then there was that one moment—the day I saw her dressed in her lehenga. Time stood still. It was like magic. She looked so pure, so full of love, that I felt small standing next to her. Her love was so genuine, so perfect, that it overwhelmed me.

But deep inside, I carried old wounds. Wounds I thought were healed but weren’t. I tried to cover them up, pretending I was ready to run the marathon of life again, but I wasn’t. The ghost of my first love haunted me, pulling me back into the darkness. And in that struggle, I failed her. I failed us.

I think of her often—my prism, my light. I want to run to her, hold her, cry in her arms, and tell her how much I love her. I want to beg for another chance, to let her know how much she means to me. But something stops me. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s the belief that she deserves someone stronger than me.

Now, she feels like a star—bright and beautiful, but far out of reach. I love her, but the words remain stuck inside me. I don’t want to be alone, but if that’s my fate, then I will carry this love with me, silently.

Goodbye, my love. My ray of light. Until we meet again, in this life or the next.