I have never seen him.
Only heard his voice—It was warm and comforting.
For months, his voice was my safe place, a corner of the world where I could open my heart without the fear of judgment. The first time I spoke to him, my words trembled, heavy with pain. Today, my voice carries a different weight. The pain has lifted, leaving me lighter… yet my heart feels heavier than ever, because deep down, I know—this is going to be our last conversation.
The counselor spoke softly, his tone calm yet filled with pride.
“Diya, I’m happy you have come this far. Remember, life will still bring difficult days, and that’s normal. But I’m confident you have learned how to rise again, and that strength is already within you. This isn’t an ending—it’s the beginning of a chapter where you can trust yourself a little more each day. I hope you won’t need me anymore, but if you ever do, I will be here always. You don’t have to walk alone—just reach out to us”
There was silence for a moment. Then he added, almost hesitantly, “But… hmmm, Diya… well…I think I will really miss our talks—the way you share your knowledge and your thought process. I have been a quiet admirer of that.”
My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the words—it was the way he said them. For the first time, I realized this bond was not just about healing. Somewhere in the pauses, in the shared silences, in the way his voice softened when he said my name… there was a tenderness neither of us dared to name.
“Me too,” I whispered, surprising myself. “More than you know.”
Something struck me in that moment—I wasn’t just learning to heal, I was learning to feel again. To care. To love. And though we both knew this chapter had to end, the warmth between us was not something time could erase.
As I ended the call, my heart whispered what my lips could not:
Sometimes love doesn’t ask for forever. Sometimes it just teaches you how to begin again.
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