Years later, I returned
to that old library...
the one where you first appeared,
lost in your universe of books.

A cup of tea by your side,
half a dozen volumes spread open—
I wondered how one could
breathe so deeply in words.
And in that quiet moment,
my heart chose you
without a sound.

You felt my gaze too,
as if your soul, somewhere,
was calling back to mine.
That silent current carried us
through pages, through time—
until one day,
the sky collapsed around me:
the news of your cruel illness,
your battle against fleeting days.

Then I understood—
true love does not need
to be spoken aloud.
It survives in the hush
of unshed words,
in the longing of a soul
that destiny denies.

You left the city for healing,
and then... you left this world.
That day, my breath faltered too,
as if I no longer belonged to life.

Marriage? My heart refused.
You had become a habit,
an irreplaceable part of me.
I took to books as you did,
living through pages,
yet always, with one cup of tea,
I still wait for you.

They say another birth awaits us.
If it is true, my only prayer is this:
in the next life,
you will surely find me.

— Usha Maniar ☕❣️