I often find myself lost in those memories, each one a vivid imprint in my mind, frozen like fossils in time. Sometimes they resurface like fresh wounds, other times like scars—reminders of pain, yet also of healing. And occasionally, they evoke a yearning, a sense of something lost, with these memories serving as the only remnants I can hold onto.

Last night, you visited me in a dream—your presence so real, as if you had reclaimed my thoughts, much like you once captured my heart.

I've noticed that it's when exhaustion sets in that you appear in my dreams. When my body surrenders to rest, allowing the part of me that's you to surface—the part I strive to forget.

Today, my thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that unforgettable trip we embarked on when the delta surge of the Covid pandemic was slowly waning.

Stepping off the bus, your eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of me, instantly erasing the time and distance imposed by the pandemic. It was a moment suspended in time, where it was just you and me, and the chaos of the outside realm faded into insignificance.

I held onto you tightly, as though afraid you might vanish if I let go, savoring the tangible sensation of your presence—so real, so comforting, far removed from the electronic hum of our phone conversations. Together, we walked, our steps perfectly synchronized, as if moving in reverse, reliving each precious moment in tandem.

"Let me go, princess," you whispered.

"Never," I replied stubbornly, eliciting laughter from you.

But I let you go. Do you still laugh? It's been a year since I last heard your laughter. But then again, I've only caught glimpses of you in the past year.

I remember how you introduced me to your new friends, their faces all a blur now. All but one. I should have known then that it was the beginning of the end.

"This is Aicha," you told me, her smile was fresh, she looked sweet and innocent. I looked at you, confused. Something seemed off.

"Hi! You must be Naina, Advik has told me so much about you!" She exclaimed. I smiled at her.

You seemed distant that day. I caught you stealing glances at her from time to time. I was being insecure, I told myself. You and I, we were it, we were forever, we were just going through a rough patch. Aicha was your friend. That was it.

But as the day progressed, I felt like you didn't realize that your friends were all strangers to me, like you had forgotten how I was introverted unlike you, how I felt nervous with new people. I tried hard that day to appear worthy of you, to be accepted by your new group. But you hadn't seemed to notice.

We had dinner at a place where there was a buffet. I was at the table, and you had gone to pick up your meal. You stood next to Aicha, both of you laughing, your eyes moved to her lips before you looked away, her hand found your shoulder. I closed my eyes, my breaths failing to stay calm. I was drowning. And you weren't there.

It was over, I thought fleetingly. Do I accept defeat? Or do I fight for you? For us?

I wanted to cry, but your new friends were around. I didn't want them to see me like that. Like a jealous, insecure girlfriend. I walked to the bathroom, breaking down in the privacy of the dirty toilet. A few minutes later, I came out, and Aicha was there.

"Are you okay?" she asked me. I nodded. I couldn't dislike her. She was nice. In another life, she would be my friend.

You pulled up a chair next to me, your hands casually draped around me. You kissed my ear gently while no one was looking. I looked at you, searching your eyes, and you smiled at me. Maybe I was imagining things.

That night, we made love. It was tender and beautiful.

As the memory of our intimacy resurfaces, I instantly block the thoughts of how you felt against me and move on to the events of the next day.

I had woken up in your arms, my heart racing as your phone buzzed with texts from her.

I woke you up, and you looked startled, as though surprised to see me there. I pointed at your phone. "What's going on between you and her?"

You stretched your arms out, your eyes squinting against the morning rays.

"Nothing, she's just a friend," you told me.

"Don't lie to me, Advik. I can read you like a book," I told you. Your shoulders drooped, and you looked away. I let out a soft cry. It was over.

"Nia, I never touched her," you told me, your eyes shining, just like mine did.

"But you wanted to..." I whispered. You looked away again.

"She reminds me of you. How you used to be when we were in college," you said as if this justified it.

"And now I'm not innocent. I'm not good... I'm not good enough," I rambled, my words overtaking my thoughts.

"Nia, stop it. You are blowing it out of proportion," you yelled at me. "She's my friend. She's attractive and I'm a guy. That's it!"

"You are a guy?" I yelled back. "That's your excuse for emotionally cheating on me?"

"What?" You shouted back at me. "You just throw around your accusations. I told you! I didn't act on it."

You sat back down on the bed, while I remained standing, my hands crossed in front of me.

I had been stronger back then. I am weak now. Broken.

"She's pretty, she's nice and yeah, if we hadn't been together, I would have asked her out. But you're y girlfriend. Aicha and I are just friends," you had explained calmly.

"You had wanted to kiss me every time you were with me when we had just been friends," I said softly, but my voice carried venom as I emphasized the word "friends." "You'd wanted to kiss her at the restaurant, hadn't you?"

You gazed at me with an expression pleading for respite.

"But I didn't do it, can't that be enough?" your voice was a whisper, yet your eyes conveyed volumes.

I shook my head, feeling the weight of your heart veering towards another. I refused to be merely a duty, a burden you couldn't shake due to some sense of obligation.

"It's over, Advik. We can't continue like this. This isn't what I want," I murmured, tears brimming in my eyes but refusing to fall.

"Don't say that, Nia," your voice cracked, its tone strained and unfamiliar.

I met your gaze squarely. "It's over, Advik," I declared, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within.

The abrupt finality of our breakup had yet to fully sink in. We were meant to be forever—or so I had thought.

As I gathered my belongings—the charger, my glasses, my scattered clothes—a sense of surreal disbelief enveloped me.

Your grip tightened on my wrist, halting my movements. "Take it back, Nia," you demanded through clenched teeth, your eyes a turbulent mix of hurt and anger.

"Let me go, Advik. I told you, it's over," I reiterated, my tone unwavering as I attempted to free myself from your grasp.

"I'll never let you go," you declared, your words filled with a possessive intensity as you pushed me onto the bed, the force causing my forehead to collide with the headrest. Whether it was the impact or your subsequent actions that rendered me unconscious, I couldn't discern in the haze of the moment. Actions I never fathomed you capable of.

As consciousness returned, tears streamed down my cheeks, your gaze meeting mine as you withdrew from me. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the words a broken refrain, repeated over and over. "I'm sorry."

Curled into a tight ball, I sobbed uncontrollably. My Advik, the one person I trusted above everyone else, had inflicted this pain upon me. We couldn't move past this. I couldn't, no, I wouldn't forgive you.

But then you began to cry, your sobs wracking your body with a ferocity that shook me to my core. In that moment, witnessing your anguish, I realized the depth of my own emotions for you, and all the love we shared surged back with an overwhelming force. You were mine, and I was yours; I couldn't bear to see you in such torment.

"It's okay," the words escaped my lips instinctively as I reached out to comfort you, sitting up to envelop you in my embrace. You wept on my lap, your tears mingling with mine as I gently stroked your hair.

"I can't live without you, Nia, I just can't," you confessed amidst your tears, your vulnerability laying bare before me. I held you tighter, feeling the warmth of your tears against my thigh, my own tears tracing down my cheeks unchecked.

Gradually, your breathing steadied, and the tremors that wracked your frame began to subside. "Forgive me," you whispered, your voice raw with remorse. "I shouldn't have... I'll never... I don't know how I..." Your words trailed off.

"Shh..." I hushed your anguished words, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, hoping to soothe the turmoil within us both. Despite the pain, I held onto the belief that we could overcome this together.

"Nia, if you leave me, I'll end my life," your words pierced through the air, chilling me to the bone.

"Never say those words again!" I interjected sharply, my voice laced with urgency. "It's not something to joke about. You have so much to live for..."

"It means nothing without you," you countered, your voice heavy with despair.

I didn't realize I was hyperventilating until my roommate's voice cut through the haze, calling my name. She held a paper bag against my face, but I managed to regain control of my breath on my own.

It was just a memory, I reminded myself. Last night had been just a dream, woven from fragments of the past.

You were far away now. It had been over a year since our breakup, and you had seemed to be doing okay the last time I heard. But in my dream, your presence felt vivid, your voice echoing in my mind as if you were right beside me, whispering those haunting words: "Goodbye, Nia."

I couldn't reach out to you today, even if I wanted to. The ties that once bound us had unraveled, leaving me adrift in a sea of memories. I held no claim over you anymore, and yet, the weight of our past lingered heavily upon me. I was tethered to another now, our paths diverging like impassable walls stretching to the sky.

All I can do is hold onto the hope that you are okay, even as I come to terms with the reality that I may never again know your thoughts, your fears, your hopes.

Advik, please, be okay. Promise me that you'll find your way through this.