A lot of time had passed, but time has this habit—it keeps moving, yet lingers where a wound still aches.
Tenzin came back as if nothing had happened. As if every rumor Suhina had spread, every whisper, every melting glance—was just the ash of some old tale.
"Hi, beautiful,"
He said. And with that one word, the rusted locks inside my chest creaked open again.
Nami looked at me. I looked at Nami. There were questions in both our eyes—but no answers.
Tenzin laughed, like he knew something—something we didn't.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
He leaned against the corner of my desk. Mischief flickered in his eyes. But deep down, there was fatigue too. Maybe regret? Maybe longing? Or maybe just a habit?
I said, "Just… getting through the days."
Those four words were like that woman who gets beaten by her man every day, yet still asks, "Will you have some tea?"
We talked. Superficial things. Light-hearted. As if everything was fine. As if our past was just a page from a cheap novel that had been accidentally turned.
And then he said it—
"Your eyes don't look at Arin the same way anymore."
There was something in his words. Like a door had just opened.
"And sometimes, even a single glance can change fate—if the hearts no longer match."
In that moment, he wasn't a poet. He was cruel. The kind of cruel who doesn't stab you—but shows you the wound and says, "Look, you did this to yourself."
I laughed. The way women in tragic stories laugh—broken inside, strong outside.
"Anyway, I loved you, and you flew away with that girl!"
We laughed. But the truth was—what lay between our laughter was a veil. Beneath it were bleeding bodies. Of relationships. Of dreams.
Then he left.
"Who knows… maybe Arin already loves someone else."
Those were the kind of words that don't close doors. They leave them slightly open… so the stench keeps seeping in.
(Now)
"Yes… now I remember," I said to Nami.
My voice was like an old season—stale, yet heavy.
Nami said nothing.
Because some regrets don't need words.
The sun was setting. And it felt… like it wasn't the sun that was setting, it was me.
And the strange thing was—
What he was taking from me… maybe it was never mine to begin with.
Or maybe…
I just never had the courage to want it.
---
How strange I am—that I grieve over losing someone I never even had.