Chapter 1 Beautiful morning's
The city woke up earlier than the sun.
Even before the golden light spread across the sky, phone screens had already started glowing in dark rooms. Fingers scrolled endlessly through Instagram reels, unread messages, trending songs, and photographs edited enough to look perfect. Somewhere, someone was laughing at a meme. Somewhere else, somebody was posting a picture with the caption “living my best life.”
But in a small room on the third floor of an old apartment building, Shivi sat quietly beside her window.
Her room looked untouched by the fast-moving world outside. Books were scattered across her study table, a half-finished painting leaned against the wall, and tiny yellow fairy lights hung around her mirror even though they hadn’t been switched on in weeks.
The soft morning breeze entered through the slightly open window and moved the curtains gently.
Shivi pulled her knees closer to herself as she sat on the wooden chair near the window. In her hands was a cup of coffee that had already started getting cold.
Her eyes were fixed on two pigeons sitting together on the branch of a neem tree outside her building.
The pigeons chirped continuously, hopping closer to each other every few seconds as if they were deeply involved in a conversation only they could understand.
Shivi smiled faintly.
“They talk more than humans do,” she whispered.
One pigeon tilted its head while the other flapped its wings impatiently, and for a strange reason, the sight made her chest ache.
Because once upon a time, she also had someone to talk to like that.
Someone who stayed.
Someone who made silence feel unnecessary.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the coffee mug.
The memories arrived slowly, like rain clouds before a storm.
There was a time when her mornings never felt this quiet.
Back then, she used to wake up and immediately check her phone, half-asleep but excited. There would always be a message waiting for her.
Sometimes something stupid.
Sometimes something random.
Sometimes just:
“Are you awake?”
And somehow, those three words used to make her entire day better.
Shivi looked toward the phone lying on her bed now.
Silent.
No notifications.
No messages.
Only the reflection of sunlight on the black screen.
Funny how phones could carry thousands of memories and still feel empty.
She leaned her head against the window frame and closed her eyes for a moment.
The pigeons continued chirping outside, completely unaware that they had opened a door she spent months trying to close.
A year ago, she would have smiled at something so small.
A year ago, mornings did not feel this heavy.
Her phone vibrated suddenly on the bed.
Shivi looked at it for a few seconds before picking it up.
Four-plus notifications.
Instagram.
Nothing important.
Just random reels, a friend tagging her in a meme, and unnecessary messages from college groups she had muted months ago.
Still, her heart reacted the same way it always did.
For one foolish second, she thought maybe it was him.
Maybe after all this time.
Maybe today.
But no.
It never was.
Her thumb slowly locked the screen again.
The room became silent except for the distant traffic outside.
Shivi hated how a single vibration from her phone could still ruin her peace.
She had worked so hard to escape those feelings.
The sleepless nights.
The anxiety attacks.
The habit of checking her phone every five minutes.
The painful overthinking.
The endless questions.
Was it my fault?
Did I say too much?
Or maybe not enough?
People always talked about heartbreak like it was poetic.
Like rain on windows.
Like sad songs at midnight.
But nobody talked about the ugly part.
The part where you slowly stop recognizing yourself.
The part where your chest feels heavy for no reason.
The part where memories attack you at random moments — while drinking coffee, while hearing a song, while watching two pigeons sitting together on a branch.
Shivi laughed quietly at herself, though her eyes had already started burning with tears.
“Pathetic,” she whispered.
But deep down, she knew it wasn’t pathetic.
Because some people leave silently, yet they take entire versions of you with them.
She rested her forehead against the cool glass window.
The morning sunlight touched her face softly, but even warmth felt distant these days.
She remembered how things used to be before everything became complicated.
Back when notifications made her smile instead of panic.
Back when “good morning” messages actually mattered.
Back when talking to someone until 3 a.m. felt normal.
She missed that version of herself the most.
Not the person who left.
But the girl she used to be before goodbye changed her.
A tear rolled slowly down her cheek.
Shivi wiped it away quickly, almost angrily.
“No more crying,” she told herself.
She had promised that before.
Many times.
Outside, the pigeons suddenly flapped their wings and flew away together, disappearing slowly into the bright morning sky.
Shivi kept staring at them until even their shadows disappeared from the branch.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Maybe people leave exactly like that, she thought.
Quietly.
Without warning.
One moment they become part of your everyday life, and the next moment, they disappear so completely that all you’re left with are memories and unanswered questions.
A faint smile appeared on her lips, but sadness rested behind it.
“At least they flew away together,” she whispered softly.
“At least they never had to say goodbye to each other.”
The branch outside her window now looked painfully empty.
Just like her notifications.
Just like her heart.
Her eyes slowly shifted toward the phone lying silently on her bed.
The unread message was still there.
After all these months.
Waiting.
She could open it right now if she wanted to.
One click.
One second.
That was all it would take.
But some messages carry enough pain to ruin your healing all over again.
So instead, Shivi locked the screen again and held the phone tightly against her chest.
Her eyes slowly closed as memories began returning one by one.
Not as flashes.
Not as small moments.
But like an entire story she had spent months trying to forget.
The first conversation.
The late-night calls.
The “good mornings.”
The unnecessary fights.
The promises.
The attachment.
The silence.
And finally… the distance.
Everything started replaying inside her mind so clearly that it almost felt like she was living it all over again.
And somewhere between those memories, Shivi realized something terrifying.
Maybe the hardest part about goodbye was not losing someone.
Maybe the hardest part was remembering how happy they once made you feel before they became the reason for your sadness.
Outside, the morning sunlight grew brighter.
But inside Shivi’s room, the past had already begun taking over again.
And this time, the memories refused to stay buried.
To be continued..
