Unfinished Love

🤍

To the girl I loved the most,

Some people you meet in life gradually fade into memory. Then there are people like you; those who become part of your soul.

I still remember the first thing I noticed about you. It wasn’t your words or even your smile. It was your eyes. They held a softness, as if they naturally carried kindness. Then there was your curly hair—messy in the prettiest way, falling around your face like you belonged in a painting. I often wondered if you even knew how beautiful you looked without trying.

And that tiny birthmark on your left cheek.

God…

That little mark made your smile unforgettable. Each time you laughed, it became the only thing I could focus on. I thought the universe must have taken extra time creating you, adding tiny details that only a few would notice.

You loved wearing jhumkas. I remember how perfectly they suited you—the tiny sound they made whenever you turned your head or laughed. Those little earrings somehow became part of you in my mind. Curly hair, pretty eyes, jhumkas swaying softly, and that tiny birthmark on your cheek. That’s the version of you my heart still carries every single day.

You were a classical dancer. Even though I never saw you perform live, I imagined it a thousand times in my head. I pictured you on stage with expressive eyes, hands moving gracefully, and anklets filling the silence with rhythm. I imagined watching you from the crowd, forgetting everyone else existed for those few minutes.

I think I would have fallen in love with you again if I had seen you dance.

You spoke with such innocence. Your soft voice could calm even my worst days. Even your small habits became special to me—the way you reacted when you felt shy, the way you smiled while pretending not to, and how your face changed when you were angry but still looked cute.

You never understood how deeply I loved you.

I didn’t love you for a phase. I loved you like I was already planning a lifetime.

I pictured introducing you as my home one day. I imagined annoying you with random calls, waiting for your texts, hearing about your dance practices, buying you jhumkas whenever I found pretty ones, fixing your bad moods, and growing old with the same girl I once admired silently.

And honestly? I still can’t look at someone else the way I looked at you.

People say love fades over time. But how do I explain that even after two years, I still remember exactly how it felt to read your messages? How do I explain that some nights your memories still come back unexpectedly? That sometimes I stop when I see a girl with curly hair and jhumkas because for a brief moment, my heart thinks it’s you?

My mother didn’t accept you.

I tried my best. I fought for us with hope, even when times got tough. I kept believing that love would win if we both held on tightly enough.

But in the end, all you had to do was accept me completely, stand beside me once, and fight for me like I was fighting for you.

Maybe that’s what broke me the most. Not because we lost each other, but because I truly believed we wouldn’t.

Still, if I ever see you again someday, I know my heart will recognize you before my eyes do. Maybe your curls will still fall the same way. Maybe your jhumkas will still sway when you smile. Maybe that little birthmark will still draw attention to your face.

And maybe for one small moment, time will stop again.

It’s been two years now.

I don’t know if you still think about me. I don’t know if my name still crosses your mind randomly like yours does in mine.

But I hope life has been kind to you. I hope your dreams are coming true. I hope your dancing still has the same grace I used to imagine. And somewhere deep inside me, a part of me still whispers the same question it asked the day you left—

Hope you’re doing well 🤍