Love Dies When We Lose the Why

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🌅 India Rising 

There’s a saying that you should never trust a writer unless their narrator is a ghost.

A spirit is too dead to lie.

I am the Spirit in this story.

I was not a Spirit when I met her.

I had all the accouterments of a living and breathing human — blood, flesh, black eyes, the breath to tell lies. So many lies.

But as the cliche goes, the worst lies are the ones you tell yourself.

Here’s a lie everyone tells. “I don’t know how we I lost her ” Sure. But there’s always some slow gutt twisting harbinger of a dying relationship.

For me, She was was Country Pink rose From that day forward, he brought me pink roses sall time He always wrote the same note with each bouquet — “Every season feeled like spring.”

And then, one winter, there were no pink rose.

That’s when I knew it was over.

At first, I hinted. I left out the heavy crystal vase he always teased doubled as a murder weapon and waited for it to be filled with life. And waited. But it remained empty and colorless.

Then, I tried doing the little things that always made him feel appreciated and loved. I cooked his favorite meals and tucked silly love notes into his briefcase. I bought lingerie. A lot of lingerie. I wrapped our dying relationship up in enough silk and lace to make a winding sheet.

Spring came. And so did my brave roses. But our winter remained.

When a relationship begins to fade, something small always dies first — a forgotten dating formal , a favorite drink we liked both a hand unreached caring each other for, a sexless night, an empty vase.

And then, When one the people end up in own life's divorce court, wondering how they lost the person they once loved after being a spirit

.

Forget the how. All that matters is the why.

JaiHind.. JaiBharat...