Category: Personal

I was numb. For a while. Then angry. Then broken. It felt like my world had come apart in front of my eyes. This was different.

The next few weeks were filled with calls. Messages. From someone I had once held close. I didn’t understand it. But I knew I couldn’t be the victim. There had to be something I was missing.

And somewhere, on the edge of breaking completely, I saw it.

It wasn’t complicated. I was too fast. Too intense. Too far ahead of myself. I never paused. I never stayed. I kept moving. Looking for something more. Something else. Even when everything I needed was already there.

I thought it was the place. The city. The surroundings. That something outside had to change for me to feel at peace.

But it wasn’t that.

It was me.

I had read it before. Heard it before. But this time, I understood it.

Peace is not where you are. It’s how you are.

It took me years to see that. And I paid for it. Some things don’t come back. Some moments don’t return.

I sit with it now. This is something I won’t forget.

I spent years moving forward. It took me everything to finally look inward…

She was lying in my arms. The sun was about to rise in a couple of hours. I woke her up gently and asked if she wanted to go hiking. We were almost at the top of a small hill in Santiago. And then my phone rang. A business call. I took it. And I got lost in it. I forgot why I was there.

The next few weeks were beautiful. We travelled. Saw places I still can’t describe properly. And she… she was everything I thought I was looking for. I didn’t wait. I proposed. I planned it very well. Got a decorator online, spoke to him and got him to decorate a hall in her building beautifully. I had brought champagne along from my long trip. I was sure about her. I wanted her to be my life permanently. I was so sure as I was planning this, waiting to see the smile on her face. I felt confident about her. I didn’t even think to question it. I was in a hurry to make her my life, wanted to show her how much she meant to me. I was happy and I was here all the way around the globe. I did not tell anyone, barring a few friends back in India. She was awestruck. Said yes. We kissed. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

We travelled to San Pedro de Atacama, a beautiful desert to the north of Chile. It was so barren, yet so beautiful. For the first time I saw that something deserted could still feel full. It was my birthday, and she took me out for a stargazing night. It was surreal. And by the end of it, she got down on her knees and proposed to me. It was beautiful. I was ecstatic.

We came back from the trip. We went out every day, her arms in mine, my head on her shoulders. I felt like I had always belonged in Santiago.

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t pause. I didn’t sit in it.

We fought once. It was bad. We were drunk. I don’t fully remember what caused it, but I know it had something to do with me being irritated with how she was managing things around me. I was working as much as I could, but somewhere I wanted to feel taken care of. I felt unseen at times. Maybe she was trying. Maybe I just didn’t see it. I might have been rude. She got angry. I wanted to leave. It felt like a breakdown. She stopped me. She said she didn’t want me to leave.

I went out for a break. Smoked. Came back. It had only escalated. I told her I felt unsafe around her. Even now, I don’t fully understand that moment. I just remember wanting to leave suddenly. And at the same time, I knew I wasn’t in my senses. I knew I should just sit in it.

I was at that same edge again. That familiar pull. The urge to reach out to my ex came back for a moment. That scared me more than anything else. I knew it was wrong. I knew I had to stop myself.

This time, I held it together.

I came back. We just sat next to each other. Quiet. Not talking. And strangely, the silence didn’t feel bad. I just wanted to sit next to her.

We kissed. She made me write answers to a few questions. It was simple, but it made me realise why I reacted the way I did. And slowly, it was okay again.

We travelled again. Rapa Nui. The farthest I had ever travelled until then. A small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Standing there, I realised how small we are. How much there is beyond us.

I asked her to come to India. She took a moment. And said yes. I felt like I had everything.

Flights were booked. Suitcases packed. And somewhere over the Atlantic, we were just lying next to each other. And then life started again. There were things to fix. Paperwork. Family. Reality.

She fell sick. And I was alone. And that’s when it happened again. I couldn’t sit with it. I told myself I was bored. That something was missing. That I wasn’t feeling what I should. But the truth was simpler. I didn’t know how to stay.

So I went back to what I knew. A call. A moment. I felt that my fiancée was not making me feel wanted. I thought maybe my ex could. I just wanted to feel in control again. She always knew how to do that. And it was enough to distract me. Not enough to fix anything. I felt guilty afterwards, knowing very well I would never do it again.

A month later, we got married. I knew something was off. But we got so caught up in the planning that we forgot to work on us. She fell sick with typhoid for almost a month, and that took away whatever time we could have used to understand each other better. I felt like life was slipping again. But I told myself marriage would fix it. That we had time ahead to work on it.

She was dancing before she walked down the aisle. I still remember her face. Her eyes shining. Our families around us. But something felt off. Her family seemed distant. Present physically, but not really there. Everything felt strange, but I let it go, telling myself it was my day and I wouldn’t let anything ruin it. So we celebrated. And she became my wife.

It was winter. I woke up before her. Just looking at her. And then I went back to my life. Work. Movement. Noise. I forgot about everything. I was happy in the moment and ignored what we had left unresolved.

We travelled again. Seychelles. It was beautiful. We went to the beach. Swam in the ocean. I was very happy and proud of my wife. Proud of my choice and in love with her. I made sure I told her every day how much I loved her. We used to call each other “Mi Amor.” At times, I wasn’t there. I was somewhere else. In my head. In my patterns. I had never learned how to stay in a moment. I had only learned how to move through them. I had built a life by always going forward. Never inward. Sometimes I would get a call and completely zone out of the life I was living, drifting back into my world in India. It made me irritated. I just kept thinking—why couldn’t things just work the way they were supposed to?

And this time, it caught up.

I flew to Kuala Lumpur for work. And that’s when the call came. She was leaving. Not because of one thing, but because of everything. Because she saw something in me that I hadn’t seen myself.

And for the first time, there was nothing to say. Just silence. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t confused. I just knew. My body was shivering. I was in complete shock. I couldn’t tell day from night. Everything felt chaotic. Like the world had just collapsed around me.

That this wasn’t bad luck. I had taken too much pride in my decisions, thinking I could never go wrong. Maybe I believed I wouldn’t fail. That I was strong. That my love was strong.

It was me.