Chapter 9 : Regret

Regret, a formidable companion, grips the soul with an unforgiving grasp, echoing the pain of lost opportunities and unspoken words. While some say that a breakup hurts the most, few experiences can rival the anguish of regret, for it is a haunting reminder of what could have been. In the depths of this remorse, I find myself immersed in a sea of self-blame, tormented by the belief that I may have played a part in the tragic loss of the one I loved most.

Her absence reverberates through my every thought, a constant reminder of the void that no one else can fill. It was a love that transcended choice; it became a necessity, a solace to my soul. And yet, in my immaturity, I failed to let go when she uttered the words that marked the end of our relationship. I failed to recognize the weight of her departure, the pain she carried silently.

Her parents, in their immense grief, reassured me that her passing was not my fault. They extended their understanding, urging me to release myself from the clutches of guilt. But behind the mask of laughter I wear, pretending to be a comedian, I know that deep within, I am a villain. A villain who failed to cherish and protect the one I loved, despite knowing the fragility of her breathing. This realization etches its mark upon my soul, an indelible stain that eats away at my very being.

The facade I present to the world betrays the tumult within. I feign friendship, enthusiasm in meeting new acquaintances, yet inside, I know that I am unworthy of any happiness. I have condemned myself to a life of pain, for I believe I deserve nothing less. Though surrounded by kind-hearted souls in the United States, where I pursue my master's degree in a reputable university, I am plagued by a pervasive sense of isolation. The pioneer of my heart, the one who brought solace to my spirit, is gone forever.

Every message that pings on my phone, every notification that clamors for attention, serves only to remind me of her absence. The void she left in my life is immeasurable, and I resent her for departing, for not taking me with her. I begrudge her for concealing the depths of her ailments, for keeping her struggles hidden. When the time came for her departure, tears flowed freely from my eyes, voicing the pain that my mind failed to express.

My mind, a labyrinth of complexities, requires no prompting to spiral into thoughts of her. Every small detail triggers memories of the moments we shared, each one etched vividly in my mind as a cherished fragment of our time together. And with each recollection, I find myself falling in love with her all over again. But simultaneously, my heart fills with a deep-rooted self-hatred, making it unbearable to face my own reflection in the mirror. She was a blessing in my life, one that I rejected, and the weight of that decision gnaws at my conscience.

I implore her to return, in whatever form she may choose: a shadow, a gentle breeze, or even by catching my hand to guide me through the world of oasis. I long for her presence, her comfort, and beg her not to leave me again. Death, a cruel thief, snatched away my beloved, leaving me shattered and convinced that her return is but a hopeless dream. Yet, my heart continues to ache with each passing day, especially when I chance upon couples in the throes of love. The bitter truth reveals itself in these moments, reminding me that this could have been us.

Amidst the pain, I have resolved to move forward, though this decision weighs heavily upon my shoulders. It is a choice of paramount importance, one that demands resilience and strength. Yet, the memories I hold, the chapter of regret etched in the depths of my soul, shall forever remain concealed from the world. Even to my future wife, these fragments of my past shall not be revealed.

You, my dearest "jaanu," are akin to an unfinished book that I have penned, destined to be completed only with my impending demise. This chapter of regret, a testament to the depths of my sorrow, shall forever remain untold, a secret carried silently within my heart.

In the words of Khalil Gibran, "Of the good in you, I can speak, but not of the evil. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?" I bear witness to this truth as I navigate the intricacies of my existence, carrying the weight of regret as a constant companion.