Unfinished Love

There comes a moment in every life where the heart’s desire and the world’s expectations collide. This is the story of such a moment — a story of love that blossomed silently, lived deeply, but could never fully bloom in reality.

I was a simple man. Kind-hearted, spiritual, and devoted to prayer. My days were peaceful, filled with companionship, good conversations, and gratitude. I never knew something was missing—until one random message changed everything.

One day, a message from an unknown number popped up:
"Salam."

Out of curiosity, I responded. Then I called. On the other side was a girl — her voice soft, sweet, and strangely familiar. There was something in her tone that stirred emotions deep within me. That one call sparked something I couldn’t explain.

Days passed, and our conversations grew. We’d talk for hours late into the night, laugh, joke, sometimes argue, and always reconnect. Slowly but surely, we became each other’s habit. Each message felt like a heartbeat, each call like a lifeline.

We fell in love — not suddenly, but like the slow rise of dawn. Her voice was home to me. She shared her dreams, her fears, her secrets — and I shared mine. But there was a challenge: she used her phone in secret, hiding it from her family. Whenever her phone was off, I’d worry. I’d get angry. But the moment she called back, her gentle words calmed every storm inside me.

Five years passed like this. Five years of shared laughter, silent tears, and the kind of love only two hearts truly understand. We decided to take a bold step — to turn this love into something real, something lasting.

I sent a marriage proposal to her family.
But her father was a strict, traditional man. He said no — flatly and firmly.
Again and again, I tried. For two more years, I hoped, prayed, and kept knocking on the same door.
But every time, I was met with rejection.

Eventually, everyone around us found out about our relationship. Society began to whisper, and family honor became a heavy burden. One day, my own father sat beside me and said:

"Son, think of our dignity. Love is beautiful, but not everything. People talk. Our name matters too."

That was the day I shattered inside.

I had two choices: fight for love and risk losing my family’s respect, or let go of the girl I loved to protect everyone’s honor. I chose the latter. With a heavy heart and tearful prayers, I married my cousin.

But love like ours doesn’t die — it just hides in the corners of the heart.

Even now, she messages me sometimes. We talk, not the way we used to, but there’s still warmth, still that unspoken bond.
She says, “I miss you.”
I say, “I pray for your happiness.”

We were never meant to be, yet we will always belong to each other in memories.

Today, I live a different life — responsibilities, routine, and the smile I wear for the world. But deep down, a quiet corner of my heart still aches for the one I had to let go.

And yet, I survive.
I’ve learned that heartbreak doesn’t kill you — it teaches you how strong love can make you. Sometimes, the strongest form of love is silence.
Sometimes, letting go is the only way to protect what little remains of something once beautiful.


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Moral / Life Lesson:

"True love isn’t always about holding on. Sometimes, it’s about letting go with grace, honoring the memories, and walking forward — even with a broken heart. Because in every broken piece, there is strength. And in every goodbye, there is a hidden prayer for the other’s happiness."