Iya Writes (One Shot Stories)

The Heart's True North

Lina sat by the window, her fingers tracing the edge of the worn notebook in her lap.

The evening sky, painted with hues of orange and pink, mirrored the fading light in her heart.

For years, this had been her sanctuary—this little café tucked away in the corner of the city, where she could watch life pass by in peaceful anonymity.

But tonight, the usual comfort it brought felt distant, almost mocking, as she struggled with the weight of her emotions.

It had been six months since her world shattered, yet the ache remained fresh, as if time had decided to leave her in the moment of pain. People always said time heals all wounds, but what they didn’t mention was that some wounds never fully close. They leave scars that, while not always visible, are deeply felt.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift back to that moment, the one where everything had changed.

~~~

It was the first day of spring when Lina met Jordan. He was late for their blind date, a fact she found irritating at first. She was minutes away from leaving when he burst into the café, out of breath, his unruly hair catching the sunlight. “Sorry I’m late!” he had said, his voice light with sincerity. Despite herself, Lina couldn’t help but smile. There was something about his disheveled appearance and the honest apology that made her stay.

That night turned into one of the most beautiful evenings of her life. They talked for hours, about everything and nothing—books, movies, their childhood dreams, their fears. He had a way of listening that made Lina feel heard, really heard, for the first time in a long time. She hadn’t realized how much she had needed that until she found it in Jordan.

As the weeks passed, their connection deepened. They spent hours walking through the city, exploring hidden spots, and sharing their stories. It wasn’t long before they fell into the rhythm of love—the kind that feels easy, natural, like breathing. Lina had always been cautious with her heart, but Jordan made it feel safe to open up. He made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could find her happiness in someone else.

But like all journeys, theirs was not without turbulence.

Jordan had his own baggage. He had never quite healed from the loss of his mother a few years back, and though he never said it outright, Lina could see the weight he carried. It was in the way his eyes sometimes glazed over, distant, when they talked about the future. It was in the quiet moments when he would retreat into himself, unreachable, even when he was sitting right next to her.

Lina tried to be patient. She told herself that love meant giving space when needed, that healing wasn’t a straight path. But as the months went by, the distance between them grew. Jordan would cancel plans last minute, disappear for days without explanation, and when he did return, he was evasive, his usual warmth replaced by a coldness she didn’t recognize.

The day it all fell apart, Lina had been waiting for Jordan at their usual spot by the river. They had planned a picnic—a rare moment to reconnect after weeks of missed opportunities. She had packed his favorite sandwiches and brought along a book of poetry they both loved. She waited for over an hour before realizing he wasn’t coming.

Her phone rang just as she was about to leave. It was a number she didn’t recognize. When she answered, it wasn’t Jordan on the other end but his sister. The words she said blurred together in Lina’s mind, but the message was clear: Jordan was gone. He had been struggling more than anyone realized, and in a moment of unbearable pain, he had decided to end it all.

Lina’s world shattered.

---

The months that followed were a blur of grief, confusion, and guilt. She replayed every moment of their time together, searching for signs she had missed, for clues that could have told her how much he was suffering. She had loved him with everything she had, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough to save him. And that realization broke her in ways she couldn’t put into words.

She withdrew from the world, retreating into herself. The joy she once found in life seemed hollow, replaced by an emptiness that threatened to consume her. Friends and family tried to reach out, but their words of comfort felt empty. How could they understand what it felt like to lose someone who had been her everything?

One evening, when the weight of it all felt too heavy to bear, Lina returned to the café where she and Jordan had first met. It was here, in this quiet corner of the world, that she hoped to find some solace. She opened her notebook, the one where she used to write letters to him, even after he was gone. Her pen hovered over the page, unsure of what to say.

That’s when she noticed the woman sitting across from her. She was older, her face etched with the kind of lines that only come from a life fully lived. Their eyes met, and for reasons Lina couldn’t explain, she felt the urge to speak.

“I lost someone,” Lina said, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman nodded, as if she understood. “Grief,” she said, her voice soft but steady, “is the price we pay for love.”

Lina blinked, taken aback by the simplicity and truth of the words.

The woman continued, “Life is a beautiful journey, but sometimes the most profound lessons come from the moments that break our hearts. We learn the depth of our capacity to love, to endure, and to heal. It may not feel like it now, but there will come a day when you’ll find peace in that pain.”

Tears welled up in Lina’s eyes, but for the first time in months, they didn’t feel like tears of hopelessness. They felt like the beginning of something—maybe not healing, but understanding.

As the woman stood to leave, she offered Lina a gentle smile. “You’ll find your way again,” she said, her voice filled with a quiet certainty. “We always do.”

Lina watched her go, the weight on her chest feeling just a little lighter. She turned back to her notebook, and for the first time since Jordan’s death, she found the words.

“Life is a beautiful journey, but sometimes the most profound lessons come from the moments that break our hearts,” she wrote, feeling the truth of it settle into her bones.

She closed the notebook and sat back, letting the evening light wash over her. She wasn’t okay—not yet—but maybe, just maybe, she would be one day. And for now, that was enough.

THE END.