CANDLES AND CLOSURE

 

Turning a Year Older, Turning a New Leaf: Life                                    After Love - Real Life Blog

So, I had a relationship with a boy who was three years younger than me.
Yes, you read that right — three years younger.

And you know what? Everything with him felt so effortless, so magical, that for a moment I started to believe — and question — is he the one?
That invisible boy from my dreams, the one I always imagined as my forever love.

Even as I write this, I can feel myself reliving those beautiful days I spent with him.
He was like a male version of me — a mirror of my quirks, my thoughts, my soul.
I loved him deeply, with my whole heart and being.

To me, he was the epitome of true love.

Since the day I met him, my face began to glow.
I became a happier version of myself.
The air around me felt more romantic, like life had suddenly put on rose-tinted glasses just for me.

Three years with him felt like living in an SRK movie.
Yes — all hearts, all romance, all feels.

There’s this one line from Shah Rukh Khan that keeps echoing in my mind:
“Pyaar dosti hai.”
Love is friendship.

And that’s exactly how it was for us.

We didn’t just fall in love — we grew into love, through friendship.
Two best friends who became lovers.
And while the world loves to warn, “Best friends who fall in love always end up broken,”
we were the exception.

Because when things got hard — when there were misunderstandings, fights, arguments —
we didn’t lean away.
We leaned into our friendship.
That bond, that foundation, that inside-joke kind of loyalty — it always pulled us back.

And you know what else made me believe he was the one?
His name ended with a “K” — just like mine.
Silly maybe, but in love, even small things feel like divine signs.

It felt like God was giving me little cosmic winks, confirming,
“Here he is. Your soulmate.”

You know, everything was going so smoothly.
I never saw it coming.

I had imagined a lifetime with him.
Us — together — not just in selfies or dreams,
But in real, sacred moments.
Me dancing in my wedding dress,
Mangalsutra with his name resting on my neck,
Mehendi dark with the imprint of his initials,
And sindoor in my hairline, shining with love.

I had pictured it all.

But life, oh life — it doesn’t always unfold the way you imagine.
It shatters your daydreams
Breaks your heart in places you didn’t even know existed.
Like how your parents scold you —
not out of hate, but out of love —
and yet, it still stings.

Then one fine day,
he simply said:
"Let’s be friends. I’m breaking up with you."

And that was it.

My heart ached so deeply, it felt physical —
My body shivered violently,
as if I’d been locked in a freezer for days
and no one remembered to take me out.
I went numb.
Cold.
Unreal.

Still, I tried.
I begged.
I said we shouldn’t give up — not like this.
I told him everything would be okay.
He cried too.
Every time I said I was leaving, his eyes filled with tears —
as if someone had put him at gunpoint and forced him to break my heart.

But that wasn’t the case.
This was his choice.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I blocked him.
And then I cried.
Cried so hard, I felt like my soul was dissolving inside me.

Even on my way home from college,
there was this temple I’d pass by.
I’d stop. I’d fold my hands.
And I’d whisper the same desperate prayer:
“Please don’t separate us, God. Please. Don’t do this to me.”

I wasn’t ready.
I couldn’t imagine my days without him.
I felt like I’d just become a living ghost.
Breathing, blinking — but not alive.

But you know what?
God always does what He does.
And somehow, it always turns out to be for the best —
even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time.

The very next day,
with shaking hands and a heavy heart,
I deleted everything.

All the photos.
All the videos.
The silly screen recordings.
The reels he made for me.
The dance videos.
The clips of us laughing like best friends.
Gone.

Even the Instagram account we made —
a mix of our names —
deleted.
Like it never existed.
But oh, how it did.
It existed in my every breath.

Then, just a few days later,
midnight arrived.
My birthday.

But there was no long, emotional birthday message.
No cute story on Instagram.
Not even a text.

Silence.
Cold, aching silence.

I’m forever grateful to my mom —
because at a time when I couldn’t even imagine wanting to live,
she stood beside me like a rock.
Every day, I’d look down from my balcony,
imagining what it would be like if I wasn’t here anymore.
I thought, if he’s not with me, then what’s the point of being alive?

But my parents —
they never let go of my hand.
Never once.
And for that,
I’m deeply, endlessly thankful.

The morning of my birthday,
I dragged myself to college, heart as heavy as ever.
I told my mom, “I want to be alone today.”
She argued like moms do,
Said we’ll celebrate once your brother’s board exams are done.

Then somewhere between the classes and the tears,
I saw a reel.

Tarini Shah.
Kritika Khurana.

Talking about solo days.
Romanticizing cafe corners,
long walks alone,
treating yourself with the kind of love you wish others did.

And I thought…
Maybe I should try that too.

 

It was such a Golden Sunrise after a Storm

So that day, I decided to dress up.

I wore the gift my mom had given me at midnight —
something about it felt like love wrapped in fabric.
Left my hair open,
let the wind mess it up,
and walked out like I owned the day —
even if my heart still carried a storm.

I attended my college classes,
pretending like it was just another ordinary day.
But it wasn’t.
It was my day — and I had already decided:
I’d treat myself like a queen.

After class, I went to the mall.
Alone.

I roamed freely —
no one rushing me,
no one waiting on the bench or waiting for me to come online and texting “where are you.”
I wandered like I was writing a love letter to myself.

I had a beautiful, wholesome lunch at a restrobar —
the kind that feels fancy just because you’re there.
Then, I watched a movie.
Alone.

And the most incredible part?
I recorded it all —
captured the raw, unfiltered joy of being my own date —
and posted it as a vlog reel on Instagram.

That reel?
It changed something in me.

Suddenly, I wasn’t just proud of myself —
others were proud of me too.
Comment after comment poured in,
people celebrating this small, brave act like it was a quiet revolution.

And honestly?
It felt like even God was proud of me.

That day, I truly realised something:
I don’t need someone else to make me feel worthy.
I don’t need a hand to hold 24/7.

I am enough.
I can treat myself like a queen —
in the exact way I once hoped a soulmate would.

The glow-up on my face?
It wasn’t just skincare or makeup —
it was healing.

I became more beautiful —
not because someone loved me,
but because I started loving myself.

And slowly, everything started to become nicer to me.
Life. People. Moments.

At last, I just want to say —
thank you, God,
for rewriting my story when I didn’t even know it needed editing.
Thank you to my parents,
for being my constant when I felt like disappearing.
And yes —
thank you to my ex-soulmate,
for breaking me
just enough to build myself back into this woman.

A woman who is confident, radiant, and real.
A queen.

Yes girl —
QUEEN ENERGY. 👑
Hard-earned self-love?
It's the most powerful thing I've ever experienced.