The next morning arrived too soon, like a hurried knock on a door no one wanted to answer.
The world outside was bright, but inside Ram's chest, the weather remained stormy. Sita's room was filled with the soft rustle of clothes as she folded and unfolded the same shirts again and again, unsure what to take, unsure what to leave behind.
Every item felt like a memory.
The maroon stole she always wore when she met Ram after college.
The watch he gifted her on their tenth anniversary.
The little diary where she wrote poems she never showed anyone — except him.
Each object whispered questions she didn't have answers to.
Ram sat on the edge of her bed, silent, watching her like someone committing the moment to memory. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers interlocked tightly — as if he feared even his thoughts would spill out and break her.
"You're packing too much," he said gently.
She didn't look up. "I don't know what I need there."
"You just need courage."
"And what if I lose it halfway?"
He stood slowly, walked to her, and pulled her hands away from the suitcase.
"You won't lose it," he said softly. "Because I'll remind you every day."
Her throat tightened.
"Ram…"
He brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "You're supposed to be excited. Scared, okay. Nervous, fine. But don't let fear bury the joy you deserve."
Sita closed her eyes, leaning into his touch for strength.
"I'm trying," she whispered.
"I know," he murmured. "And that's enough."
---
THE DRIVE THAT FELT LIKE DESTINY BEING TESTED
By afternoon, the bags were ready.
The house felt empty already.
Her mother hugged her tight, her father patted her shoulder, her sister told her to bring chocolates from the new country — but Ram stood a few steps behind, like the gravity holding the entire scene together.
When Sita finally walked toward him, suitcase rolling behind her, he straightened his back as if preparing for an emotional storm.
"You ready?" he asked, voice steady.
"No."
"Good," he said with a small smile, "neither am I."
They walked to his car. The roads outside were lazy, slow, sunlit… but the air inside the car felt heavy, stuffed with everything they weren't saying.
Sita rested her forehead against the window, watching the familiar streets pass by — the bookstore where Ram bought her first novel, the café where she had spilled coffee on his shirt, the college gate where they shared their first clumsy hug.
Memories clung to her like hands refusing to let go.
Ram drove slowly, each kilometer stretching like a goodbye note.
At one point, Sita whispered, "I'm scared the city will forget me."
Ram glanced at her. "The city? Never. It still remembers your footprints. And I…"
He paused.
"I will remember every breath you took beside me."
Her eyes glistened. She didn't reply — she couldn't.
---
THE AIRPORT: WHERE LOVE LEARNS TO BE BRAVE
The airport came into view like a giant, heartless reminder of reality.
Glass walls, metallic light, echoing announcements — everything felt too cold for a moment meant to break two warm hearts.
Sita's grip tightened around the handle of her suitcase.
Ram stepped beside her, taking her hand.
"I'm here," he said softly.
She nodded, but her body trembled.
They walked inside.
Families cried.
Children laughed.
Travelers rushed past.
But for Ram and Sita, time slowed until it barely moved.
At the baggage drop, she fumbled with her passport. Her fingers shook too much to hold it properly. Ram gently took it from her and placed it on the counter.
"I don't think I'm ready," she whispered.
"You don't have to be ready," he said. "You just have to move."
The words felt like both a blessing and a wound.
---
THE GATE THAT STOOD LIKE A WALL BETWEEN TWO HEARTS
They reached the final barrier — the boarding gate.
Only passengers beyond this point.
Only silence beyond this moment.
Sita turned to him, tears already pooling.
"Ram… will you be okay?"
He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"As long as you're somewhere under this sky, breathing… I'll be okay."
Her tears spilled.
"I wish you could come with me," she choked.
Ram touched her cheeks gently.
"And I wish I could hold you every night until you fell asleep. But some wishes must wait until life is ready to give them."
Sita swallowed hard. "I can't imagine waking up without you."
"You'll wake up," he whispered, "and you'll find strength in places you never looked before."
Her voice cracked. "I don't want strength. I want you."
Ram's chest tightened painfully.
He pulled her into a hug — a long, trembling embrace that felt like stitching two souls together before tearing them apart.
People walked around them.
Announcements echoed.
But they were frozen in time.
"I will come back," she whispered into his shoulder.
"I know."
"Will you wait?"
"Always."
She broke the hug, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
Her fingers trembled as she reached into her bag and took something out — a small, folded handwritten letter.
"What's this?" he asked.
"A piece of me," she whispered. "Read it after I leave."
Ram held the letter like it was made of glass.
---
THE LAST LOOK
The boarding call echoed again.
Sita stepped back, heart pounding, tears blurring her vision.
"Ram…" Her voice was barely there.
"Yes, love?"
"If distance ever scares me… will you remind me who I am?"
"Every single day," he promised.
She took a shaky breath, turned toward the gate, and walked forward.
One step.
Her heart pulled back.
Another step.
Her dreams pulled her forward.
Before entering the gate, she turned one final time.
Ram stood there exactly as she had always imagined him — hands in pockets, shoulders straight, trying to smile but failing, trying to be strong but shaking inside.
Their eyes met.
Hers said: I love you, don't forget me.
His said: Go. Shine. I'm here.
A final tear rolled down her cheek.
She whispered — though the distance between them was too wide for him to hear:
"Not all love holds you back. Some love sets you free."
Then she disappeared behind the glass door.
---
WHEN SHE VANISHED, THE WORLD QUIETED
Ram stood there long after she was gone.
Minutes passed.
Announcements changed.
The crowd shifted.
But he remained frozen, staring at the empty space she left behind.
His hands finally fell from his pockets.
His shoulders slouched.
He exhaled — the kind of exhale that broke more than it released.
The letter she gave him trembled in his fingers.
He didn't open it yet.
He wasn't ready.
Instead, he whispered to the quiet air:
"You go chase your dreams, Sita…
I'll build the life you'll come home to."
And after fourteen years of walking beside her…
He walked away alone.