A tale of love ,
A tale of healing ,
A tale of trust ,
A tale of discoveries ,
Nothing changed, yet she felt the loss,
But you can't lose something that never was yours
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Started - 11th April 2024
1K reads- 3rd...
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That was it.
Shri was done with Sid.
Without hesitation, she texted him—short, final, absolute.
"It’s over. Don’t call me, don’t text me. Don’t try to reach me in any way."
And with that, she blocked him. Off her socials, off her phone—out of her life.
It wasn’t easy. Eight years of history don’t just vanish. But as soon as she hit block, a weight lifted off her chest. One she hadn’t even realized was crushing her, making it harder to breathe each day. It was like the relationship had been choking her—tightening its grip, slowly, painfully—until she could barely recognize herself anymore.
Ending an eight-year relationship should’ve shattered her. And in some ways, it did. But in others? It felt like freedom.
Because what hurt the most wasn’t losing Sid.
It was losing the idea of what they could have been—what they should have been—if only he had loved her the way she had loved him.
And so began the slow, painful, but necessary process of moving on.
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Days turned into months.
Shri started feeling like herself again. Bit by bit, piece by piece. But one thing never left her—fear.
Not fear of being alone.
Fear of love.
Or, more precisely, fear of falling—and not being caught.
She was terrified of loving someone who wouldn’t love her back.
So, she built walls. Thick, unshakable, impenetrable. A defense mechanism. A shield. A promise to herself that no one would ever get close enough to hurt her again.
Marriage? Out of the question.
Love? A myth she refused to believe in anymore.
Instead, she poured herself into her work.
Brick by brick, she built herself anew.
A woman who was confident.
A woman who knew her worth.
A woman who stood tall.
A woman who no longer showed the world her pain—but still cried alone at night.
A woman so strong, yet so fragile.
She didn’t need a man to survive.
But deep inside, buried beneath the layers of self-preservation, there was still a part of her that longed for something real.
