WE & MONSOON : Love vs Promise

PROLOUGE

Smaran stands in the dimly lit school corridor, the cool air from the open windows brushing against his skin. He leans against the wall, his head bowed, staring at the scuffed floor beneath his feet. His thoughts are heavy, tangled with the familiar sense of dread that always seems to accompany moments like this.

My tie is tight, he thinks, a wry smile almost forming. It amazes me that after all these years, I still can't tie it properly. My uniform is a mess. He notices his uniform, covered in names and signatures in dissimilar colours. But what does it matter? I won't need this anymore after today.

The girl in front of him is speaking, her voice full of frustration and disappointment. But to Smaran, her words blur together, fading into a distant hum. He knows she's upset, but the specifics of her complaints elude him. All he can focus on is the feeling of inevitability, the sense that this is always how things end for him.

Everyone complains about never finding love, but that's a smaller pain compared to finding love and still losing it. It's like something you can almost touch, but just as you start to feel happy, it slips through your fingers.

"I don't even know why I bothered," she begins, her voice rising slightly, though it barely registers in Smaran's mind. "You never take anything seriously, Smaran. Every time I try to talk to you about something important, it feels like you're not even there. Like you just don't care."

Smaran's eyes remain fixed on the ground, his fingers idly tracing the lines between the tiles. I've only been with this girl for three months. And in those months, I've learned it takes exactly three to realize how useless I am.

He's not ignoring her; he's trapped in the spiral of his own thoughts, replaying all the times he tried to be better, to improve, but it never seemed to be enough. Love, for him, always feels like a game he's doomed to lose.

"...And your communication, or should I say, lack of it? How can we even have a relationship when you can't talk about anything real? I feel like I'm dating a child, not someone who's ready to take anything seriously."

The words strike deeper than she knows, but still, they feel distant to Smaran, as if coming from a place far away. He can hear her, but the weight of her complaints is dulled by the familiar ache in his chest—the resignation that comes with the belief that maybe, just maybe, he's destined for this. For things to end this way.

"Are you even listening to me?" Her voice sharpens, cutting through the haze of his thoughts.

He blinks, his focus returning to the present. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet her gaze, his expression blank but his mind weighed down with resignation. "What do we do next?"

The girl's eyes flash with a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Next?" she repeats, her voice laced with disbelief. She pauses, searching his face for any sign of understanding or regret, but finds none.

Finally, she straightens, her decision solidifying in the silence between them. "I want to break up with you."

Smaran's heart sinks, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't argue, doesn't try to explain. He just stands there, his face a mask of quiet acceptance as he feels the weight of yet another failed relationship settles on his shoulders. The corridor, once a place filled with shared memories, now feels like a void.