1

The campus was alive with the excitement of summer approaching. Tara Raikar walked beside Aryan Deshmukh, but unlike the other students laughing and chatting as they left the exam halls, her heart felt heavy. Their first year at University of Oxford had come to an end, and though it was a time for celebration, there was no relief in Tara's chest, just a dull ache. Something wasn't right. She could feel it in the way Aryan wasn't really looking at her, the way his steps didn't match hers as they made their way to their usual bench by the river. His usual confident and easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced with an unfamiliar silence.

She glanced at him, his face clouded with something she couldn't quite place. His eyes were focused ahead, and he wasn't smiling, not even a little. They had been through so much together this year—shared late-night study sessions, secrets, dreams for the future—but now it felt like all of it was slipping through her fingers.

"Aryan... what's going on?" Tara asked, her voice shaky but trying to sound calm. She had been waiting for the right moment to ask him what had been on her mind, but now, the words tumbled out before she could stop herself.

Aryan stopped walking. He didn't meet her eyes, just stared out into the distance, as though the words he was about to say were harder than anything he had ever had to speak. Tara's heart began to beat faster, the feeling of dread settling deep in her chest.

"I... I have to go back to India, Tara," he said, his voice low.

Tara froze. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

"My dad... he's really sick. It's bad, Tara. I have to go home. My family needs me."

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew his father had been struggling with his health for some time, but she had no idea it was this serious. His family meant everything to him, and though she felt her world shift beneath her feet, she couldn't deny the importance of this.

"How long are you going for?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, but she could feel the tears rising in her throat. "When will you be back?"

"I... I don't know. It could be weeks, maybe months." Aryan's voice cracked slightly, and it made Tara's heart ache. "It's bad, Tara. My family needs me to be there. My dad... I just don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if I'll even be able to come back to Oxford anytime soon."

Tara's hands trembled at her sides. She reached for him instinctively, but Aryan stepped back, putting distance between them. She couldn't understand why, but it felt like he was already pulling away from her. She had spent the entire exam period fighting to hold onto him, to make their relationship work despite the stress, but now, with everything crumbling around them, it felt like she was losing him before he even left.

"Don't do this," she whispered, her throat tight. "We can do long distance. We can keep talking, keep in touch. It'll be hard, but we'll make it work. Please, Aryan, don't do this."

Aryan exhaled deeply, his expression pained. "I wish it were that simple, Tara. I want to try, I really do. But I don't know how much I'll be able to handle, not with everything that's happening at home. I can't promise I'll be able to keep up with everything. My family's priority is here, and I don't want to hurt you by not being the person you deserve."

Her heart sank, the weight of his words settling over her like a cold cloud. "But I want you, Aryan. I need you. I don't care if we're far apart, I just... I just don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," he said, his voice breaking. "But I can't ask you to wait for me, Tara. Not like this. I need to be there for my family. I need to do this, and I don't know when I'll be able to come back. It's not fair to you if I don't give you something real, something that you can rely on."

Tara's chest constricted as she heard the finality in his words. He was trying to let her down gently, but the hurt in his eyes made it clear he had already made his decision.

"But I don't want this to be over," she said, the words barely coming out through the lump in her throat. "I can wait for you. I can... I can try. Please don't leave me. I can't just... let you go."

He didn't speak. He just looked at her, his eyes filled with regret, and then he sighed, as though the weight of everything was too much to carry. "I'm sorry, Tara. I don't want to hurt you. I just... I have to go."

"So you don't even try long distance?" Tara cried between tears, "Aru, please?"

Aryan's eyes moistened, "Star—I, I don't know what to do. I want to try, but I don't want to hurt you."

"I want to try, Aryan. Please."

"Okay. We'll try." And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, frozen, as the words echoed in her mind.

Tara returned home to India for the summer, her heart heavy with the sudden absence of Aryan. The weeks passed, and she tried to keep herself busy—studying, meeting old friends, spending time with her family—but none of it was enough to fill the emptiness he had left behind. She told herself it would get easier. She would wait. She would hold on.

But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that Aryan wasn't coming back. Not in the way she had imagined.

At first, it had been okay. Aryan had messaged a few times—checking in, asking about her exams, telling her he missed her. Tara had clung to those messages, replaying them over and over in her head, telling herself that as long as he was reaching out, there was hope. But that hope began to fade as his responses grew less frequent. A message here, a "sorry, I've been busy" there. His once loving words now felt like empty reassurances.

Tara had tried everything. She had texted him about her day, her thoughts, the little things they used to share. She had sent him updates about her time in India, hoping he would respond with the same enthusiasm they once had. But he didn't. Each message was met with silence.

"Hey, how's your dad?"

"I miss you so much. Can we talk soon?"

"Just wanted to let you know I passed my exams—can't wait to tell you everything."

"I miss you more than you know."

All unseen ticks. All delivered, but never seen.

Tara felt herself slowly sinking into the weight of it all. Every time she checked her phone, there was nothing. Not even an attempt to hold on to what they had. The silence was becoming unbearable. Her heart had stopped believing in his promises.

After a while, she could feel herself pulling away, but it wasn't out of anger—it was out of self-preservation. She couldn't keep reaching out to someone who wasn't even trying. She couldn't keep holding on to a ghost.

She sat on her bed, staring at her phone one last time. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she typed out a message, her chest tight with every word.

"Aryan... I can't do this anymore. I've tried, I've waited. But I can't keep doing this alone. It's taking a toll on me. I love you, but I don't think you do anymore. I'm letting you go. Take care of yourself and Papa. Goodbye."

Tara stared at the message, her breath caught in her throat. Her heart was breaking, but this was the only choice left. She hit send, watching as the message was delivered.

For a moment, she sat there, staring at the screen. Waiting.

Hours passed.

She checked her phone again. Grey tick. Aryan had not seen the message.

He hadn't even seen the message.

No acknowledgement. No apology. No "I'm sorry." No "I still love you."

He had seen it and said nothing. The finality of it hit her like a punch to the gut.

Tara felt the tears slip down her face as she lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had been waiting for him to come back, but now, she realized that she had to let go.

It was over.

And this time, she was done.

~•~

The months had passed in a blur. The summer after her breakup with Aryan felt like a lifetime ago, and yet, it still lingered in the corners of Tara's mind. The summer was filled with work, long hours interning at a prestigious firm in Mumbai, surrounded by deadlines and people who didn't know her story. She threw herself into her responsibilities, and it helped. She didn't have time to feel sorry for herself or look back. She was busy building her future, and in some ways, it felt like she was leaving the past behind.

Back in the UK, though, things weren't quite the same. She had returned to Oxford after the summer, hoping that the new academic year would bring a fresh start. But Aryan's absence hung over her like a shadow. She had tried to keep the memories tucked away, pushing them into a corner of her heart where they wouldn't hurt anymore. But every time she saw something familiar—a place they'd visited together, a song they'd listened to—she couldn't help but feel the sting of what she had lost.

Her friends noticed the change. The energy she used to have, the laughter that used to come so naturally to her, had dimmed. There were awkward questions at first—where was Aryan? Wasn't he supposed to be back by now? Tara didn't know what to say. She could have told them the truth, but the truth was too painful. Instead, she gave them a small smile and a half-hearted explanation.

"He's still with his family in India. Things are complicated," she'd say, and they'd nod with understanding, not probing any further. It wasn't that they didn't care—they did—but they had their own lives to live. Slowly, the questions stopped coming, and everyone moved on.

Everyone, except Tara.

By the time second year had ended, she had convinced herself that she was fine. She had made peace with the fact that Aryan was no longer a part of her life. It had been almost a year since they had broken up, and in that time, she hadn't heard a word from him. Not a call, not a text. The silence had cut deeper than any words ever could. But Tara had built walls around herself. She had become the person she was before Aryan had entered her life—the confident, independent Tara who didn't rely on anyone for her happiness. She told herself she was good. She was over it. She had moved on.

But the truth was more complicated than that. Every time she stood in front of a mirror, she found herself questioning if she had truly healed, or if she had just buried her pain. But that's what she told everyone when they asked. She was "good."

And as the second year came to an end, Tara's routine shifted. She had survived the year without Aryan—without his presence, without his messages, without the connection they used to share. She had finished exams, passed with flying colors, and was preparing to pack up and head home for the summer. As she stood in front of her suitcase, carefully folding clothes for the next leg of her journey, she couldn't ignore the gnawing emptiness that lingered deep inside her.

The calendar on her phone caught her attention: July 18th. Exactly a year ago today, Aryan had walked out of her life without a word, and Tara had made the hardest decision of her life—to let him go. She had promised herself she wouldn't look back. But now, with that date staring her in the face, it felt impossible not to feel the weight of that memory.

Her fingers hovered over the phone, an urge to check for any missed messages, any sign of him creeping up. But she stopped herself before her thumb could tap the screen. No, she thought. I'm done.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head. It had been a year. A year of silence, of waiting for answers that would never come. She couldn't keep doing this to herself.

So, she pushed the phone aside, focusing on the present. She had to pack. She had to go back to Oxford for her third year. The world was waiting for her, and she had to keep moving forward, even if it meant leaving pieces of herself behind.

As she zipped up her suitcase, Tara forced herself to smile. It wasn't a perfect smile. It wasn't the carefree, excited smile she used to wear. But it was enough. She had learned to live without Aryan, even if the ache still lingered.

The door to her room creaked open, and Tara looked up to see her mother standing there, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You ready?" her mom asked, her voice soft.

Tara nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Her mom smiled, walking over to help her with the final touches. They didn't need to talk about it—about the heartbreak, about Aryan, about the past. Tara had already said goodbye in her own way. And maybe, just maybe, she was finally ready to leave it all behind.

With her suitcase packed and her heart steady, she took one last look at the room she had called home for the past few months. It was time to move on. It was time to start her third year, to start fresh, to make new memories. She had spent too long looking back, and now, she had to focus on what lay ahead.

As she walked out the door, she felt a small flutter in her chest. A flutter that whispered: Maybe it was okay to move on after all.

And with that, Tara stepped into her future, leaving the past where it belonged.

💜