Part 1
She sat by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, merging into puddles below. Words used to come so easily to her. She could talk endlessly, filling the air with stories, thoughts, and laughter. But deep conversations—the kind that stirred her soul—felt like a distant memory.
Lately, she had been thinking a lot about herself. Even in her sleep, her dreams were filled with thoughts of who she used to be. She remembered a time when she felt full of energy and possibility. It was a time when life seemed vibrant and alive, but that feeling had faded.
She went to a quiet place, a temple where she had once felt peace. She hoped to find a piece of herself there, a memory that would spark joy. But when she stood in that stillness again, all she found was emptiness.
The truth hit her slowly. The memories she kept chasing weren’t the people she had known—they were about her. They were about the version of herself that had been filled with life and passion. She realized she wasn’t mourning someone else; she was mourning the spark she had lost within herself.
Part 2
She had been looking for answers in places that no longer held meaning. The past would always be a part of her, but it didn’t have to define her future. If she wanted to feel alive again, she couldn’t keep looking back; she had to rebuild herself here, in the present, in the life she was living now.
The rain stopped by morning, but her thoughts lingered as she turned from the window. The house was quiet except for the soft sound of him moving in the other room.
He walked in, carrying a mug of tea, setting it gently on the table without a word. It was such a small gesture, one he had done so many times, but today it struck her differently.
She watched him for a moment, noticing the way he moved, the quiet kindness in his every action. He wasn’t the kind of person who filled the air with excitement or sparked endless conversations. But he had given her something else: calm. He had been there through her storms, steady and unwavering, even when she hadn’t let him in.
She thought about all the time she had spent comparing him to the past, looking for something he couldn’t give her. And yet, here he was, offering her something different. It wasn’t fiery, all-consuming love. It was warm, gentle, and real.
Part 3
He sat down across from her, his smile soft and knowing. He didn’t push her to speak, didn’t ask for more than she was ready to give.
She felt the words rise inside her, hesitant but steady. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” she began.
He nodded, waiting patiently.
“I want to live again,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Not just for myself, but with you. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I want to try.”
His smile grew, his hand reaching for hers across the table. His touch was grounding, reassuring.
For the first time in a long while, she felt something shift inside her. The weight of her past began to lift, leaving space for something new. She didn’t need to know all the answers yet. She didn’t need to have everything figured out.
What mattered was that she was ready to try.
And as she sat there with him, her hand in his, she realized something important: the spark she had been searching for wasn’t gone. It had been waiting for her all along.