It is Monsoon Again

To the one who began as my monsoon fling,

It is monsoon season again.

The rain has returned, and with it, the memory of you. I thought you would be a small story: a passing season, a few bright days beneath rain-heavy skies, someone I would remember when the clouds moved on.

I didn’t know you would become an entire chapter.

Somewhere along the way, the fling grew roots. You became part of my days, my thoughts, and the future I began to imagine without even noticing. I loved you in the ordinary moments, and in all the little ways that made them feel like ours.

When I left, my love didn’t leave with me.

I only knew that loving each other wasn’t enough to carry us where we wanted to go. We both had growing to do, and I needed to find my way back to myself. So I let go of what we were, while keeping a quiet hope for all that we might still become.

I hope you meet the life that is waiting for you. I hope it surprises you with doors you didn’t know were there, and that one day you look around and feel proud of the person who walked through them. There is so much ahead of you, still unwritten.

There is so much ahead of me, too.

Maybe, after time has changed us in all the ways it needs to, our paths will cross again. Maybe we’ll recognise something familiar in each other. Maybe we’ll simply be glad we once shared a chapter. I don’t know what the future is keeping for us. I only know that I hope it is kind to you.

The monsoon brought you into my life like a little bit of magic. What followed was more than I ever expected: a whole chapter, written in days I will always carry with me.

Wherever your story takes you next, I hope you find wonder in it. I hope you find your own light, even on the days you can’t see it yet.

And if life is generous, perhaps our stories will meet again somewhere down the page.

Until then, I love you. I believe there is something beautiful waiting for you.

Good luck, always.

Shallu