𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-4

𝐀𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐆𝐔𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓
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That lovely month of Monsoon, which many of us eagerly await. It is said that for lovers the first rain has some different significance—people meet, come closer, take vows to stay together for life, make promises, show dreams: every year on the first rain of the month, we both will be together, we will dance to our heart's content with our arms around each other, just the two of us—you and I.

But someone has rightly said: oaths, promises, love, loyalty—all are just words; don't take them seriously.

Carrying the burden of these broken promises—a young man, around 24 years old—walked alone on the sloppy roads drenched in raindrops. His heart was as empty as that deserted road.

The rain had stopped now, but looking at those muddy roads, it seemed as if the ground itself was shedding tears at his sorrow. Buried under the burden of the world, he was feeling lost and heavy, as if these expectations were crushing his soul.

Every sound that his footsteps made on that wet pavement resonated with the echoes of his loneliness. These dark, hopeless clouds entangled him in their web like a noose, making him feel suffocated every moment of his life.

Every thought was mixed with sadness, regret, and longing that pierced his heart like an arrow. Even in this world full of billions of people, he felt invisible, as if no one could see or understand his pain.

As he moved forward, his gaze fell on the vibrant decorations of shops, hotels, and malls on either side of the road. It seemed as if the joyous atmosphere was mocking him, and once again his heart broke into millions of pieces.

The six-year-old relationship, which was once everything to him, was now just a memory—a dream he had once collected with so much love and care. His eyes lowered, and he continued walking with an emotionless face... in search of peace.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

He stumbled into the dimly lit bar, the familiar scent of stale beer and worn leather enveloping him like a damp hug. The bartender, a silent witness to his despair for the third time in just two weeks, nodded curtly as he collapsed onto a stool in the quiet corner, alone. The soft creak of the leather and the muted hum of the music in the background seemed to amplify the weight of his solitude.

Without a word, the bartender poured him a shot of local whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the faint light. He downed it in one gulp, the burning sensation searing his throat and chest. But it was a cold comfort, a fleeting distraction from the agony that had taken up residence inside him over the months.

The bar was filled with laughter and tears, a melting pot of revelers seeking escape in the din of music and the haze of alcohol. Young adults giggled and spun to the rhythm, their carefree joy infectious, while the adults clinked glasses and shared stories, their faces etched with the lines of wisdom and experience.

But amidst the sea of smiling faces, some souls wandered lost and alone, just like him—seeking solace in the bottom of a glass. Heartbreak's heavy chain weighed upon their shoulders, each sip a futile attempt to drown the sorrow that lingered, a bittersweet reminder of love turned to ash.

The air reeked of desperation, the stench of shattered dreams, as strangers became confidants in the darkest corners, bonding over shared tales of woe. In this dimly lit world, the pain was a living, breathing entity that pulsed through every heartbeat, every whispered secret, every tear shed in the shadows.