The Last Goodbye from Everyon

The rain fell gently on the rooftop as Zayan stood at the edge of the old wooden bridge, his eyes fixed on the river beneath. It wasn’t the first time he had come here—but this time was different. This time, no one would come looking for him. No one would call. No one would ask if he was okay.

Just a year ago, Zayan’s life was full. Full of laughter, promises, dreams, and voices that made him feel like he belonged. But that was before life took a sharp turn and stripped him of everything that mattered.

He had always been the quiet one in the family—the one who didn’t talk back, didn’t rebel, didn’t make mistakes. At least, that’s what he thought. But when Zayan fell in love with Meher, a girl from a different background, everything began to unravel. His parents had one word for it: shame.

“This is not how we raised you,” his father thundered, the day Zayan introduced Meher to the family. His mother cried silently, turning her face away, as if his love had dishonored her in front of the world.

“She’s not one of us,” his brother added. “You’re throwing away your future for someone who will never understand our family.”

Despite the rejection, Zayan stood firm. Meher wasn’t just anyone—she was kind, patient, and the only person who saw him for who he truly was. She never asked for money or status. She asked only for love, and Zayan had given it all to her. Or so he thought.

But pressure does strange things to people. When Meher’s own family found out about Zayan’s background and the turmoil he was facing, they began poisoning her mind. “Is this the life you want?” they asked. “Torn between two angry families, walking on fire every day?”

At first, she fought. But over time, her strength wore thin.

One rainy evening, much like this one, she met Zayan in the same park where they had first held hands. Her eyes were different—tired, distant.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said softly.

Zayan’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“My parents… they won’t speak to me. Your family hates me. We’re fighting the whole world, Zayan… and I’m tired.”

“So you’re leaving?” he asked, his voice trembling.

She looked down. “I love you. But love isn't enough.”

It was the last time he saw her. The last message. The last call. The last goodbye.

After that, silence became Zayan’s companion. His parents didn’t speak to him unless necessary. His siblings treated him like a stranger. At first, he tried to reconnect, to show them that he was still their son, still the brother who laughed at their jokes and celebrated their wins. But the more he tried, the more invisible he became.

Eventually, he stopped trying.

His job barely paid enough. His friends began to disappear too, one by one—some choosing sides, others too uncomfortable to stand beside a man who had lost everything.

Zayan wasn’t angry. He was just… empty.

But that’s when something strange happened.

One cold morning, as he walked past a bookstore he used to visit with Meher, a flyer on the window caught his eye.

"Writing Workshop for Broken Souls"

No experience needed. Just bring your pain.

He stood there for a moment, the words pulling at him like a whisper in a storm. On impulse, he walked in.

That workshop changed everything.

It was a small room, with chairs arranged in a circle. No one asked about his past. No one judged. People spoke of grief, betrayal, abandonment. And for the first time, Zayan realized he wasn’t the only one who had been left behind.

He began to write. Slowly, awkwardly at first. But soon, his words became rivers of emotion—raw, beautiful, real. His stories didn’t just bleed his pain, they healed it.

Months passed. The boy who had stood on the edge of the bridge now stood on a stage, reading aloud a piece titled “The Last Goodbye from Everyone.”

The room was silent. People listened, tears in their eyes. When he finished, they stood and clapped—not just out of courtesy, but out of connection. They had seen themselves in him.

Later that evening, a woman approached him. She was in her 60s, hair graying, eyes kind. “Your story saved my son,” she said. “He was ready to give up, until he heard you speak.”

Zayan smiled for the first time in months. It was faint, but it was real.

Now, whenever Zayan returns to that old bridge, it’s not to think of endings—but beginnings. Yes, he lost love. Yes, his family walked away. But he found something even more powerful.

He found himself.

Because sometimes, the last goodbye from everyone… is the first hello to who you were meant to become.