I think there are too many problems in the world. And there is a reason behind the problem.
Why don't you forget all your sorrows? When will you finally start living openly?
That night, for the first time, she cried — not because of him, but for herself. For all the pieces she gave away. For the love she never returned to herself.
And the next evening, when she came back to the bench, she brought a notebook too.
Not to write about him.
But to write about her —
The girl who loved too deeply, broke silently, and healed slowly.
The girl who finally came back to herself
It had been 217 days.
Not that she was counting. But her heart was. Every lonely sunrise. Every silent dinner. Every night her phone stayed still.
One day, a little girl came and sat beside her. She was holding a notebook and a crayon.
“Are you waiting for someone?” the girl asked softly.
She smiled — a cracked, tired smile. “Not anymore.”
The girl looked at her for a moment and said, “Then maybe you can sit here and wait for yourself.”
She sat on the same wooden bench every evening, right by the lake — the one where he once promised they'd grow old together. The bench hadn’t changed. But she had.
The lake rippled gently, as if carrying pieces of memories across its surface — his laughter, his warmth, his last words: "Maybe we’re just not meant to be." They had echoed in her mind like a cruel lullaby ever since.
Every evening, she watched couples walk past, fingers entwined like safety ropes. And every evening, she kept her own hands clenched in her lap, as if holding onto something invisible — perhaps hope, or perhaps just habit.
" Hearts for Rent "
.
In a world where people can rent others to pretend to be their lovers for events, one client keeps booking the same person — not realizing that the actor is genuinely falling for them, while they’re still hung up on an ex.
Did they leave without a goodbye, or did their goodbye never feel real?
What part of you do you feel they took with them?
If you could forget just one memory, which one would it be?
What did you learn about yourself through the pain?
Was it love, or just the fear of being alone?
Which hurts more — losing them, or losing yourself trying to keep them?
Do you miss the person, or the way they made you feel?
Are you healing, or just learning to live with the pain?
What would you say to them if they were in front of you right now?
If they came back, would your heart believe them again?
Do you still think of them when everything else is quiet?
What hurt you the most — the words they said or the silence they left behind?
Why do we remember pain more clearly than joy?
Is love more about holding on or letting go?
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