In a world where love teeters on the edge of obsession, she clings to the man who has wounded her time and again. Her heart, bound by a love so fierce it consumes her, refuses to let go, even as he repeatedly falters. But beneath her unwavering devo...
The rain poured steadily, drenching the world in a somber gray, but Keyan barely noticed. He stood at the foot of Sanna’s gravestone, his umbrella hanging loosely at his side, raindrops mingling with the silent tears that trailed down his face.
"Sanna Kapoor. Beloved daughter, wife, and friend."
The words etched into the stone seemed too small to encompass the brightness she had brought into his life. His wife the one who had given her life to save his. It had been two years since that night, the accident that had shattered their world. He had relived it in his mind a thousand times the car, the screech of tires, and then her. Always her. Pushing him out of harm's way. Sacrificing herself without a second thought.
Now, all that remained was the aching emptiness, the void where she used to be.
Keyan knelt down, his fingers tracing her name on the cold stone. "You should be here, Babydoll. You should be next to me." His voice cracked, a broken whisper in the rain. "I can’t do this without you."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Daddu. "Come home soon, beta. We’re waiting for you."
The Khurrana family had become his family too, their pain as heavy as his own. Sanna’s father, once a proud, unshakable man, now had the weight of grief etched on his face. Her mother rarely smiled, her heart broken in ways words couldn’t describe. They had all been trying to survive without her one day at a time.
Keyan stood up, wiping away his tears, though the pain remained like an open wound. He would visit the Khurranas, as he did every week, sitting quietly in the home that still carried traces of Sanna. Her laughter echoed in every corner, her presence felt in the little things the family photos on the walls, the fragrance of her favorite flowers still kept in the vase.
As he drove back to the Khurrana house, memories flooded his mind their wedding day, Sanna’s infectious laugh, the way she could turn his darkest days into light. Their love had been deep, intense, the kind that was supposed to last forever. But forever had been cut short.
When he arrived, Daddu greeted him at the door, a quiet sadness in his eyes. "You’ve been to see her again," he said softly, placing a hand on Keyan’s shoulder.
Keyan nodded. "I just... I needed to."
They entered the house, where Sanna’s mother sat at the dining table, carefully laying out Sanna’s favorite meal as if she were still there. They did this every week, a ritual that allowed them to feel close to her, even in her absence.
They ate in silence, each lost in their thoughts. For Keyan, the silence was a reminder of what was missing, of the future they should have had together.
As the meal ended, Sanna’s father finally spoke. "We miss her every day, Keyan. But she would want us to live."
Keyan swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice barely audible. "I know. I’m trying."
After dinner, Keyan stepped outside into the garden where he and Sanna used to sit together, making plans for the future that now would never come. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he could almost feel her beside him, her laughter in the wind, her warmth in the air.
"I’ll keep going, Sanna," he whispered, his voice trembling. "For you. I’ll keep living, even though it feels impossible without you."
And so, he stayed, as the night descended, holding onto the love they had shared, even as the pain of her absence lingered. Because in the end, that love was the only thing strong enough to carry him forward.
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Author’s Note:
Grief doesn’t end it changes. But in the deepest sorrow, we carry the love that was left behind. Sanna’s love may be gone, but it will forever live in the hearts of those who cherished her.
