I felt a sudden shift in the room, a new feeling in the air. And that’s when I saw him from the corner of my eye. And the once enormous arena felt like a four by four. I felt sick. You know that feeling that makes you feel lightheaded, like you can’t breathe and you’re hot all of a sudden. In that moment all I could feel was everything in me tensing up and desperation showing face. I was sure if I even gasped for air I wouldn’t remain unnoticed.

I looked at him again. There he was throwing his head back, laughing with his friends. He looked so strange to me. Past the figure, I couldn’t recognize his way anymore. I didn’t know him anymore. But there he was, the man, the ghost, of a story that till that day taunted me.

See that’s the thing about facing old ghosts, it’s that they bring back the echo’s of an era you tried so terribly to put behind you. And like an old silent movie you’re mind replays fading memories and lost promises. It’s breathtaking in a deep, melancholy kind of way. But maybe the scariest part about the past or ghosts isn’t actually facing them but the realization of what that means for your reality. That they are gone, that you’re alone.

I think the past will always topple over our present till we face it. Till we accept and release each other of everything that happened. Because otherwise we remain restless, haunted even. I had, till that day, kept waiting for closure, a moment of redemption that would let me know it was okay to start living again. And this was it. I felt a sudden rush of grief sweep over me as an immense feeling of understanding cleared my thoughts. It was that day I finally understood that our love had died, been buried, and put to rest. That there was no re-writing our story. No expectation of a different outcome. In that moment I finally reconciled with the idea that he was never meant for me. I had been trapped in the past for so long it was bittersweet to know I could finally move on.

I gazed at him one last time with the biggest sense of endearment, some how knowing I’d never see him again. At least not in an intimate kind of way. Our chapter was closed. Our story was sealed. An ill fated love affair, the kind of epic story that lives only in shelves, in the archives of two helpless hearts.

I sighed deeply as I turned away slowly. And one last tear ran down my face. Because though it was never said, a Goodbye filled the air. And of all the goodbyes the kind that hurts the most was the one your ears never heard, but your heart knew was being said.