one heart, two destinies

I never believed love could break you like this. That one day, you could cradle the entire world in your arms — and the next, be left with nothing but a hollow ache in your chest where his heart used to beat. I ask myself sometimes… if God is watching, why does He allow so much pain? Why do souls unravel in silence, tears fall endlessly, and hearts bleed from wounds no one sees? Do hearts broken by death ever truly mend? Does time really heal anything at all? How do you gather the shards of a love lost forever? How do you stop the bleeding when the wound lives not only in your heart — but in your very soul? I have so many questions. And no answers. Just the darkness that wraps around me like a second skin. I cry, and I no longer know if the tears are born from longing, from fury, or from helplessness. I remember the promise I made you — that I’d be strong, that I’d go on for the both of us, that I’d make you proud. But, my love… I don’t even know where to begin. I miss you. Your voice. Your hand holding mine when the world seemed to fall apart. I miss you telling me, like you always did, “It’s going to be okay.” Now, there is only silence. Our bed is half-empty — but my side faded with you. You left… and took everything with you. You left me with a life sliced down the middle, a heart that has forgotten its rhythm, a soul wandering aimlessly through dreams, through people, through the sky, still hoping to find you. Four years have passed. And still, the pain is fresh — as if you just slipped away yesterday. I see you in every memory. Every corner of our home still echoes with you. And I don’t know if I’ll ever forget… or if I should. Because despite the agony, I wouldn’t erase a single moment. Not our beginning. Not even our ending. Because I loved you. I love you. And I will love you — beyond time, beyond death, beyond myself. Sometimes, I wonder if the images of you will ever fade. But there’s one that never will: the first time I saw you. The lecture hall buzzed with low murmurs and the droning voice of a professor mumbling something about communication theory. I was scribbling notes, trying to stay focused, when I felt a presence beside me. I turned my head. And time stopped. Him. Eyes like moss lit by sunlight. Tousled hair, as if the wind had just let go of him. His gaze met mine for just a second — enough to send a shiver racing down my spine. I swallowed, trying to remain calm. Impossible. “Hey… mind if I sit here?” he asked, voice low, gentle, and a little unsure. “I’m late — and this is the only free seat.” I nodded quickly. “Yeah… sure.” He sat. His scent — warm and clean — drifted toward me, and suddenly, the professor’s voice became a distant hum. I couldn’t focus. Not on the lecture. Not on anything. I felt him. His every breath. Every slight movement. It was like gravity had shifted, and I was now orbiting him. For the rest of the hour, I watched him from the corner of my eye — the way he pushed his hand through his hair when thinking, how he chewed his lip while reading. There was something magnetic about him, something that made my chest ache with unfamiliar excitement. When the lecture finally ended, I gathered my things slowly, hoping he wouldn’t disappear. Then came his voice again. “Hey… wanna grab a coffee?” His smile shattered any trace of hesitation in me. “Yes,” I said, breathless. “I’d love to.” That’s how it all began. That’s how happiness found me. We stayed at that small café until they closed. Then, we walked the quiet streets back toward campus, reluctant to let the night end. The air was cool, but my skin was warm, every inch alive with awareness. When we reached the dorms, we stood in silence. The streetlights cast soft shadows around us. He turned toward me, his eyes finding mine. “That was a perfect night,” he said softly. “It was,” I whispered back, my heart trembling. Then, slowly, gently, he lifted a hand and touched my cheek. His fingers were warm. I closed my eyes, leaning into him. When I opened them again, he was closer. I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. His lips met mine — a kiss so tender, so real, that it carved itself into my soul. When he pulled away, he smiled with quiet wonder. “I didn’t think I’d meet my future wife today.” I laughed. Nervous. Dazed. “Me neither… but now I know.” In that moment, I knew. My world had shifted. Forever. That night, I didn’t sleep. I drifted in and out, heart racing, afraid that everything had just been a dream. Morning came. I sat frozen on the edge of my bed, trying to decide what to wear — the blue dress or the grey sweater. Hair up or down. I couldn’t think clearly. Then, a knock on the door. I opened it. And there he was. Sebi. Holding a bouquet of soft pink peonies. The sunlight kissed his skin. He smiled. “Good morning,” he said, handing me the flowers. “I forgot to ask what your favorites are… but when I saw these, I just knew they were for you. They say peonies bring luck — and symbolize love.” I stared at him, hands trembling. “Good morning,” I managed. And I knew then — it hadn’t been a dream. He took my hand. We walked together. And we spoke as if we’d known each other for a hundred years. Maybe we had. Maybe in every lifetime, I’ve found him again. Maybe he’s always been my soulmate — across time, across fate. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, sensing my silence. “Nothing,” I said quietly, too shy to admit the truth. That I already belonged to him. That some part of me already knew he would change everything. On the way, he told me about his family. Distant. Disconnected. He was the youngest, the only boy. Two older sisters, long married and gone. His parents had stopped supporting him after high school, and he’d built his life with stubborn strength — working, studying, surviving. I realized then how lucky I was. My parents had always stood by me. They were my best friends. And now, Sebi was slowly becoming the same. When we reached class, we sat together again — unable to bear even inches of distance between us. That’s how the days began to pass. Studying. Laughing. Dreaming. Living. We were inseparable. And I couldn’t imagine life without him.