kyraasharmaaa219
Some stories begin with foreworks. Ours began with timing- quiet, incorrect.
We were never loud lovers, those with grand gestures or dramatic promises. We were just kids who learnt to love and felt loved for the first time.
Kabeer loved with discipline. I loved with devotion. And somewhere between those two truths, our story learnt how to ache.
He had a future mapped out in syllabi and deadlines, in early mornings and late nights, in dreams that demanded sacrifice. I had a heart that didn't know how to love halfway, only wholely. When he chose to focus, it wasn't because love was lacking-it was because responsibility was louder. People like to believe love fails when it ends. But ours didn't fail. It simply stepped aside.
There is a particular kind of pain in understanding someone so deeply that you let them go without bitterness. I didn't fight his choice. I carried it. I carried the unspoken what ifs, the birthdays imagined in advance, the conversations rehearsed but never delivered. I carried the version of us that existed only in my head, where timing was kinder and growing up didn't demand distance.
This is not a story about heartbreak in the traditional sense. There was no villain here. No betrayal. Just two teenagers learning that love doesn't always mean staying-and that sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is love someone enough to let life take them where you cannot follow.
If you are reading this hoping for certainty, I cannot promise you that. What I can promise is truth: that love can be real even if it is unfinished, that someone can shape you without staying forever, and that letting go does not erase what once made you feel at home.
This is the story of AN ALMOST.
And sometimes, almost is enough to change you forever.