Emotionaldistance cerita

ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ

The Rule was simple: No names. No pasts. No futures. Every night for twenty-eight nights, two strangers meet on a solitary hill under the light of a changing moon. One brings a pizza box and a heart that doesn't know how to stop reaching. The other brings a single apple and a soul that has turned into a fortress. They allow themselves only one paragraph of conversation per night. A single exchange of truths before the silence returns. As the moon waxes and wanes, the distance between them becomes a battlefield. He is the tide, forever chasing a shore that recedes. She is the moon, beautiful only because she is a hundred thousand miles away. In the silver light of a dying sun, they are the only two people in the universe. But when the moon finally vanishes, will there be anything left but the grass? A study of attachment, isolation, and the dangerous poetry of being known.

Abhimanyu and Roohi step into marriage surrounded by celebrations, traditions, and smiling faces-but behind the wedding rituals lies a silence neither of them knows how to break. Their marriage is arranged by families, bound by expectations, and accepted without protest, even though both carry emotions they never spoke aloud. Roohi once loved Abhimanyu in silence, believing her feelings would never be returned. Abhimanyu, burdened by responsibility and family pressure, agrees to a marriage he never imagined for himself. As husband and wife, they share the same space but remain emotionally distant, struggling with unanswered questions, regret, and hidden pain. Between awkward conversations, stolen glances, and long silences, they must learn to face the truth they avoided for years. Can love grow where it was never allowed to begin? Or will the weight of unspoken words keep them forever apart? Tied Together is a slow-burning emotional romance about arranged marriage, silent love, and two hearts learning that sometimes, love begins only after the vows are taken.

"Five Centimetres per Second" is a poignant prose poem that explores the gradual accumulation of sadness in life, focusing on the lingering memories of a past relationship. Drawing inspiration from the Japanese concept of the falling speed of cherry blossoms, this piece delves into the bittersweet nature of nostalgia and the inevitable emotional distancing that occurs over time. Through lyrical prose, it captures the struggle between holding onto precious memories and the desire to move forward, resonating with anyone who has experienced the gentle yet persistent pull of past love. 18 June 2022

The Heart Between Sorrow follows Ophelia, a girl struggling with grief after losing her mother and her cat. She becomes emotionally distant and withdrawn, unable to connect with the world around her. Azucena, who has quietly admired Ophelia for years, watches from afar, silently offering support. As the two lives intersect, love and pain intertwine, and Ophelia faces the challenge of opening up to the possibility of love while grappling with her own emotional turmoil. The story explores the complexity of relationships, grief, and the struggle to find healing amid overwhelming sorrow.

Some people don't disappear - they manage access. This piece traces how distance becomes habit, and how loneliness follows instructions exactly as given.

A quiet reflection on love, effort, and letting go..

A soft place for the strong girls who stayed too long, loved too hard, and forgot themselves in the process. This is your reminder: you were never too much. They were just never enough.

Some people don't leave because they stop loving someone. They leave because they realize they've already been left. The Ball Was Never Mine is a quiet, aching story about neglect, resentment, and the moment a relationship finally tips past saving. Set over the course of a single argument, it explores what happens when love becomes conditional, effort becomes invisible, and walking away feels like the only honest choice left.

Some distances are measured not in miles, but in unspoken words. For Sarah and Chloe, the space between them grew wider with every unvalidated feeling, every "you'll be fine," until the quiet of separate apartments became a comfort.

What You Can Do in One Go (タイパフレンド) Synopsis: In a world where efficiency rules even human relationships, Nana and Rei meet every Monday for 90 minutes at a family restaurant. They are not lovers. Not really friends. They simply exchange trending topics, social media gossip, and music recommendations-nothing too deep, nothing too heavy. But when unexplained absences and silent tensions begin to stretch their "timed friendship" beyond its limits, both must confront a painful question: Can emotions really be controlled like a streaming playlist-or will they overflow and destroy what little connection they have left? This is a realistic, bittersweet tale about young people trying to survive modern loneliness with shortcuts that no longer work.

There wasn't a storm. No raised voices. Just a pause. A delay that grew arms and wrapped itself around my chest. He said, "Get free." I did. I cleared the clock for him - and waited. Not with anger, not with expectation - just that quiet, invisible hope we never speak aloud. Minutes became hours. Silence, the kind that stretches time. And yet, when he finally wrote back, it wasn't an apology. It was a mirror - reflecting how he thought I felt, as if my heart was a riddle he didn't want to solve. I had to tell him - I'm not mad at the gaps between your replies. I only ached when you invited me into your time, then forgot I was already standing at the door. But still, I forgave him before he even understood. Because that's what love sometimes looks like - not grand confessions, but soft shoulders and tired fingers that type "I'm sorry" without waiting for one in return. Then something changed. Not loudly. Not with fireworks. But like when winter finally begins to exhale, and you realise the ground had been thawing all along. He started showing up. In the quiet ways. With late-night check-ins. With "Ishaaa." With "I understand." With "Tell me." With "Sleep. Please." He didn't promise forever. He didn't open all his windows. But he cracked the door. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough - for now. Because this isn't a story about falling in love. This is a story about trying. About message delays, missed moments, and the poetry of persistence. It's about a girl who refused to let silence be the final word. And a boy learning, slowly, that silence is not safety - it's just a page waiting to be written on.

A poignant reflection on the growing distance between two souls, filled with regret for the fading memories and words left unspoken.

Chishiya feels nothing, Niragi feels everything.

Jinsik doesn't know when it changed-just that Sumin stopped noticing. The warmth between them dimmed, replaced by silence too familiar to name. Jinsik pulls away, and Sumin pretends not to feel it. But even pretending has its limits. And even silence can hurt.

Description: Mikha is always distant and preoccupied, leaving Aiah feeling more like a servant than a wife. When Mikha returns home after a long day, the one thing that's guaranteed to make her angry is finding no food waiting for her. Despite being constantly busy, Mikha's temper flares when expectations aren't met, and Aiah feels the strain of their strained relationship. "Did you cook food?" Mikha asks, her cold stare piercing as she surveys the room. Will their relationship survive the tension, or is this just a marriage on paper?