My initial gift to her was a serving of her favourite Asian dish, Nihari. As our friendship deepened, she often expressed how her time at university made her miss her mother’s cooking. Despite my lack of culinary expertise, I couldn’t bear to deny her request. Those deeply in love are willing to make any sacrifice for their beloved, even reaching for the moon if that’s what she desires. My love for her extended far beyond fulfilling her wishes; it was driven by the desire to see her smile and shield her from any pain that might bring tears to her eyes. The first year of our acquaintance was filled with its challenges—periods of friendship followed by silence—but when we did converse, each moment felt special, as though we had known each other forever. Some say that the second thing God created was a pen, tasked with recording everything that would occur until the end of time. In the mysterious design of the divine, I felt that my name was inscribed right next to hers, and my identity felt incomplete without hers beside it.

The initial time I revealed my emotions to her felt like an act of entrusting her with my heart. It seemed as though only the tenderness of her hands could cradle such a precious gift. Little did I anticipate that by surrendering my heart, I was essentially bequeathing it to her for all eternity. Reflecting on our decision to embark on a relationship, I harbored reservations about the potential for heartbreak, once stating, “I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket.” Yet, upon contemplation, it became clear that she was the sole desire of my heart, the one capable of encompassing my entire world. The years I spent with her felt like a lifetime, devoid of any regrets, as if a glimpse of heaven had been unveiled on Earth. Together, we explored every corner of the UK, creating cherished memories and leaving our imprint in the embrace of nature as we navigated life hand in hand.

The moment closest to my heart occurred when I found peace in her company, shedding tears while sharing news of my father’s passing. Her warmth seemed to heal all the pain in the world. We discussed everything, from life’s weighty matters to the trivial, and I discovered tranquillity in her company amid nature’s beauty. Only with her did I truly grasp why women excel in love. Her voice still echoes in my ears, and her smile still send ripples through me till this date. Even today, I yearn to keep my eyes closed, preserving her image. If someone could open my chest, they would hear my heart whispering her name, engraved in my heart. I wonder if I’ll ever relive this dream, savouring each moment. J.M. Storm captured my pain beautifully: “sometimes we don’t want to heal because pain is the last link to what we have lost.”

I could never comprehend why her behaviour, love, and sacrifices changed. Over time, I felt responsible for her tears, frustration, and anger, doubting if I ever brought her happiness, the reason we came together. Love should be simple, bringing joy and peace. The pain in her voice when she cried tore at me. I only wished to bring her happiness, yet she seemed to forget her place in my life. Marriage should’ve confirmed our souls’ connection. I used to say I’d feed her first if there was just one morsel of food. My role as a man was to lead, provide, and protect. A bit of encouragement from her could have altered our fate. In every argument, she’d compare me to other men, declaring she’d had enough. I clung to the belief that it was just anger, but the pain in her voice suggested otherwise.

There came a day when hearing that “I was not enough” compelled me to withdraw my hand and walk away from the most beautiful years of my life. I love her so much till this day, and I believe my love for her will continue to grow until I draw my last breath on this earth. I can never blame her for the way she behaved; the flaws always lay within me. Maybe my imperfections could not complete her the way she desired. I can only pray that God grants her all the happiness in the world, and if there ever comes a day when her happiness falls short, may she have mine. She deserves only the best, someone who will never let her shed a tear, someone with whom she can blossom. This is a case where perhaps the timing of our love was wrong; had we met a little later, would my name still be written with hers?

Losing the love of my life remains an agonizing chapter in my personal history, etching a profound and bittersweet lesson in love and self-awareness. As I reflect on that time, it’s an inescapable truth that my own flaws and imperfections played a pivotal role in the heartbreaking unravelling of our once-unbreakable bond. The weight of my shortcomings bore heavily on our love, and it was the crushing realization that my actions, insecurities, and missteps had exacted a toll on the most significant person in my life that shattered my heart into irreparable pieces.

Throughout the time in our relationship, my singular goal had always been to secure nothing but the utmost happiness for her. Her well-being and joy stood as my paramount concerns, and I cradled her dreams and aspirations as if they were sacred extensions of my own. Yet, the passage of time cast a looming shadow on the love we once shared, with my insecurities and shortcomings darkening the waters of our otherwise tranquil connection. I became acutely aware that my own struggles and personal battles had, at times, stirred turbulent currents within the sanctuary we had built.

In the painful recognition that love sometimes demands the profound act of selflessness, I understood that it wasn’t merely about holding on at any cost. It meant acknowledging that, despite the depth of my enduring love, releasing her was the truest expression of that love. Letting go was an acknowledgment that her path to happiness might lie beyond the scope of our shared journey. And so, with a heart burdened by the weight of a love that persists, I made the agonizing choice to set her free—not because my love for her had waned, but because it had matured into a selfless desire for her to experience a life of unparalleled fulfilment and joy. Losing the love of my life has become a crucible for profound personal growth and introspection, a reminder that, as much as I ache for her happiness. My last wish now is that she finds the happiness and contentment she deserves, even if it means that I can no longer be the one to provide it, for my love for her remains an enduring ache in the chambers of my heart.

The pain of heartbreak lingers in me like an ache that won’t fade. The love I had for her is still there, unchanged by time or distance. Even though our connection fell apart, my feelings for her remain deep and enduring. She’s a part of me I can’t let go of, and the memories of our time together are woven into the fabric of my heart. No matter what happens, she’ll always be a significant chapter in my life, a love that I’ll carry with me forever. As I move forward, I find solace in knowing that such profound love is possible. Her presence has shaped the person I am today, and for that, I am grateful. Though we walk different paths now, the beauty of what we shared will forever light my way, reminding me that love, in all its forms, is worth cherishing. Each day, I honour our past by embracing the future with an open heart, hopeful and resilient. In the tapestry of my life, she will always be a radiant thread, a testament to the depths of my capacity to love.