The room was hushed, the only sound a mournful violin melody, a teardrop of sound cutting through the silence. It was his song, the one they’d danced to under a sky splashed with stars, the one that whispered promises of forever. Now, a shard of glass in Anvi’s heart, it was a constant reminder of the void he’d left.
Her fingers traced the outline of the violin resting on its stand, a velvet throne for a king absent. Memories, vivid and painful, flooded back: the warmth of his hand in hers as they swayed in the moonlight, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes when they’d harmonized on their favorite song, the sound of his soft breath against her cheek as he hummed the melody of this very song before sleep claimed him.
“You promised,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You said you’d fight anything for me.” Her words were swallowed by the violin’s lament, music transcending language, speaking volumes in the silence of her loss.
“But you couldn’t fight this, could you?” she murmured, a hollow ache settling in her chest. “You told me, ‘Don’t miss me, my love, for I must leave, and you must live.'” How am I supposed to do that without you?
Anvi closed her eyes, the smooth surface of the violin a cold comfort against her cheek. His music had always been her escape, her solace, their shared language. Now, it felt like a betrayal, a cruel reminder of everything she’d lost.
“I’m nothing but a canvas painted in melancholy,” she said softly, despair coloring her words. “My mind feels empty without the colors of your raga.”
She remembered the way his eyes would light up when they talked about music, the way he’d analyze each note, each chord, searching for the deeper meaning, the unspoken emotions. His passion for music, his dedication to it, had always been her inspiration, pushing her to find deeper meaning in the world.
“But now,” she whispered, “I feel lost, adrift without you. My own music, once vibrant and alive, feels muted, a pale shadow of what we created together.“
The last note of the song lingered in the air, wrapping around her heart like a tender embrace. “Your darkness took you away from me,” she said, her voice a desperate plea to the empty room. “How do I find light without you?”
As the final echoes of the violin faded, Anvi was engulfed by a whirlwind of emotions. Sorrow, anger, and a longing that felt like a physical ache consumed her. Yet she knew, with a certainty that burned in her bones, that his music would forever be a part of her, etched in the melodies of her heart. It was a haunting reminder of a love lost, a love that would echo in the silence of every note, forever.
~J. Prakash~
Author's bio: My name is Jahnavi, and I write under the pen name J.Prakash. I am a student and an aspiring writer and poet based in Delhi, India. Writing has always been my refuge—a way to express the unspoken, delve into the mysterious, and explore the depths of human emotions.
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