Ansh had built a life far from the wreckage of his past. Journalism had become his anchor, his escape, his purpose. He chased breaking news across cities, uncovered stories buried in silence, and brought voices to pages that the world needed to hear. Yet, in the quiet moments between deadlines and interviews, in the hush of a late-night newsroom or the solitude of a hotel room in an unfamiliar city, she still lived somewhere in his thoughts.
Akshita. The woman who had once spoken about a future with him, who had dreamed out loud about a life they could have built together. The woman who had once whispered, “My father will be impressed by you,” only to disappear into the fog of her own unspoken reasons.
She had moved on, or at least, she had learned how to. A medical professional now, her world revolved around saving lives, mending broken bodies. But could she mend the broken pieces she had left behind?
Their conversations had grown sparse, but not absent. They spoke in measured tones, two people who once knew each other’s hearts now reduced to exchanging small glimpses of their present lives. She spoke of long hospital shifts, the exhaustion of caring for patients who hovered between life and death, the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. He spoke of newsroom chaos, of truth and deception, of the power and burden of words.
And yet, beneath it all, there was always something missing. Something unsaid.
The Truth That Never Came
Ansh had spent years replaying their past, searching for the moment she had decided to walk away. Was it when she asked if he would meet someone more beautiful at the academy? Was it when she hesitated before telling him he’d talk to her brother someday?
Or was it something he never saw coming at all?
And then there was the lie.
“I don’t need any man in my life besides my dad and brother.”
It had been a clean, sharp exit line. A closure neatly wrapped in detachment. He had believed it once, forced himself to accept it, but now, with time and distance, he knew better. It had never been the truth. It had been a shield, a way to push him away without revealing what truly lay beneath. But if not that, then what?
Was it fear? Was it guilt? Was it something she could never bring herself to admit?
He had once wanted to ask. He had once burned with the need to know. But now, as life had carved him into someone else, he wasn’t sure if the truth would bring peace or only reopen old wounds.
Some truths don’t heal. They just linger like ghosts.
The Life She Left, The Love He Kept
In one of their rare conversations, she had asked, “Do you still believe in love, Ansh?”
He had smiled, a hollow kind of smile, and said, “I believe in what love should be, not in what it became.”
She had gone silent then, a silence that spoke louder than any words could. She never asked him if he had moved on, never asked if he had found someone else. Maybe because she already knew the answer. Maybe because she was afraid of it.
She had let go of the past, but he had carried it with him. He wasn’t trapped in it, but he had never been able to completely set it down either. Some nights, he wondered if she ever looked back, if she ever regretted the love she left behind. Or if, to her, he was simply a phase—something temporary, something that filled the void until she found a way back to whatever it was she had been searching for.
And yet, no matter how much time passed, no matter how much life pulled them in separate directions, Ansh knew the truth.
He had never gotten closure.
And maybe, some stories were never meant to have one.
Because some love stories don’t end. They just remain… lost echoes in time.
----To Be Continued
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