He walks alone, tracing the places where her footsteps once lingered. The city feels borderless, an empty world where her laughter once echoed. The silence is deafening, the nights long, the pain deep.
He finds himself writing her into his poetry, his art. But she is no longer there to read it.
Time passes, and yet, she stays—an unfinished note in his heart, a whisper in the wind.
Somewhere in another city, she feels it too. But love is cruel, and fate never promises a second chance.
They were never meant to last—only to leave a mark on each other’s soul, an ache in the rains of time.
She left, but her echoes stayed. Some stories don’t end; they just fade into the silence.
