𝐀𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐆𝐔𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓
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That lovely month of Monsoon, which many of us eagerly await. It is said that for lovers the first rain has some different significance—people meet, come closer, take vows to stay together for life, make promises, show dreams: every year on the first rain of the month, we both will be together, we will dance to our heart's content with our arms around each other, just the two of us—you and I.

But someone has rightly said: oaths, promises, love, loyalty—all are just words; don't take them seriously.

Carrying the burden of these broken promises—a young man, around 24 years old—walked alone on the sloppy roads drenched in raindrops. His heart was as empty as that deserted road.

The rain had stopped now, but looking at those muddy roads, it seemed as if the ground itself was shedding tears at his sorrow. Buried under the burden of the world, he was feeling lost and heavy, as if these expectations were crushing his soul.

Every sound that his footsteps made on that wet pavement resonated with the echoes of his loneliness. These dark, hopeless clouds entangled him in their web like a noose, making him feel suffocated every moment of his life.

Every thought was mixed with sadness, regret, and longing that pierced his heart like an arrow. Even in this world full of billions of people, he felt invisible, as if no one could see or understand his pain.

As he moved forward, his gaze fell on the vibrant decorations of shops, hotels, and malls on either side of the road. It seemed as if the joyous atmosphere was mocking him, and once again his heart broke into millions of pieces.

The six-year-old relationship, which was once everything to him, was now just a memory—a dream he had once collected with so much love and care. His eyes lowered, and he continued walking with an emotionless face... in search of peace.

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He stumbled into the dimly lit bar, the familiar scent of stale beer and worn leather enveloping him like a damp hug. The bartender, a silent witness to his despair for the third time in just two weeks, nodded curtly as he collapsed onto a stool in the quiet corner, alone. The soft creak of the leather and the muted hum of the music in the background seemed to amplify the weight of his solitude.

Without a word, the bartender poured him a shot of local whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the faint light. He downed it in one gulp, the burning sensation searing his throat and chest. But it was a cold comfort, a fleeting distraction from the agony that had taken up residence inside him over the months.

The bar was filled with laughter and tears, a melting pot of revelers seeking escape in the din of music and the haze of alcohol. Young adults giggled and spun to the rhythm, their carefree joy infectious, while the adults clinked glasses and shared stories, their faces etched with the lines of wisdom and experience.

But amidst the sea of smiling faces, some souls wandered lost and alone, just like him—seeking solace in the bottom of a glass. Heartbreak's heavy chain weighed upon their shoulders, each sip a futile attempt to drown the sorrow that lingered, a bittersweet reminder of love turned to ash.

The air reeked of desperation, the stench of shattered dreams, as strangers became confidants in the darkest corners, bonding over shared tales of woe. In this dimly lit world, the pain was a living, breathing entity that pulsed through every heartbeat, every whispered secret, every tear shed in the shadows.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he thought of her-her smile, her laugh, her eyes—all gone. He felt like he was dying from the inside out, like a part of him had been ripped away.

The bartender's words of encouragement were a distant hum, a meaningless buzz in the face of his devastation. "Move on."

Move on? How could he move on when every fiber of him was screaming for her? When every moment without her felt like an eternity?

He rested his head on the counter, the cool surface a meager comfort against the raging storm inside him. He felt lost, alone, and adrift in a world that seemed to have moved on without him.

In that moment, he knew he couldn't escape the pain. It was a weight he would have to bear. The bartender's words were just that—words. It would take time, tears, and a sea of whiskey to even begin to heal the wound she had given him.

The night wore on, but he sat there, lost in his thoughts, the whiskey glass refilled again and again. The bartender's words of encouragement faded into the background, replaced by the haunting memories of their time together.

He remembered the way she used to make him laugh, the way she always knew how to make him feel better when he was down. He remembered the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams.

But most of all, he remembered the way she left him—the way she walked out of his life without looking back, leaving him shattered and broken.

The tears he had been holding back finally began to fall, streaming down his face... silently. The bartender handed him a napkin, but he didn't bother to wipe those glittering pearls away. He just sat there, broken and defeated, the weight of his heartbreak crushing him.

As the darkness deepened, the bar began to close, and the bartender gently coaxed him out of his seat. "Come on, friend, it's time to go home."

Home? He used to call her his home, and now he was homeless. What did he do wrong? Why did she leave him? Was his love not enough for her?

That once-home was just a memory now, a distant recollection of a love that had been lost.

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He stumbled out of the bar into the cold night air, the tears still streaming down his face. He didn't know where he was going or what he would do. All he knew was that he couldn't stay there, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost.

He walked, and the city seemed to blur around him—a pageant of lights and sounds that made no sense. He felt like he was walking through a dream, a never-ending nightmare from which he couldn't awaken.

He stumbled along the deserted road, his feet carrying him in a zig-zag pattern as the alcohol coursed through his veins. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with diesel and petrol served as a cruel reminder of the love he had lost. The pain of heartbreak, his constant companion for six long months, seemed to grow sharper with each passing day.

The roar of an engine tore through the street, growing louder as a vehicle hurtled closer. Headlights flared, flooding his face with a blinding white glare that made his eyes snap shut.

Just as his foot lifted toward the vehicle, a sudden grip clamped around his arm, yanking him back onto the rough pavement. His breath caught in his throat as the vehicle rushed past, its wind fluttering his clothes.

"Rudraksh!"

Rudraksh's blurry eyes focused on the concerned face of the person-Siddharth, his childhood best friend.

Siddharth's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing the space between them.

Rudraksh felt the weight of his friend's gaze but couldn't say anything.

Siddharth had been a silent witness to Rudraksh's downward spiral, never judging, always supportive, even though he had always been against those relationship things.

For six months, he had been asking Rudraksh to open up about the reason behind his heartbreak, but Rudraksh had remained tight-lipped, unable to put his emotions into words. Yet Siddharth had never pushed him, never probed—always letting Rudraksh know that he was there for him whenever he was ready to talk.

In that moment, as Siddharth's grip on Rudraksh's shoulder tightened, Rudraksh felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to break down, to let the remaining tears flow, to unburden his heart. But the words remained stuck, trapped behind a wall of pain and sorrow.

Siddharth gently squeezed his arm and whispered, "I'm here, buddy. I'll always be here. You don't have to face this alone."

Just then Karan, their best friend, approached them, his face flushed and his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Without a moment's hesitation, he enveloped Rudraksh in a crushing bear hug, holding him tightly as if trying to absorb his friend's pain.

"Rudraksh. Buddy, please... for the sake of God..." Karan whispered. "She didn't deserve you, man. She never did. You're so much better off without her."

Karan held him closer, and Rudraksh felt a wave of emotions wash over him. The warmth of his friend's embrace seeped into his bones, thawing the gripping numbness.

Siddharth, still holding Rudraksh's shoulder, nodded, his eyes shining in affirmation.

The three friends stood there, locked in a tight circle of support and understanding.

Rudraksh's gaze drifted between Siddharth and Karan, a faint, sorrowful smile flickering on his lips. His eyes, bloodshot from alcohol and tears, seemed to hold a deep sadness, a sense of resignation. For a moment, he looked like a lost soul, searching for a lifeline to cling to. Then, without warning, his eyelids drooped, and his body went limp.

A/N: Hello, everyone!

On a more personal note, have you ever experienced heartbreak? Share your stories, thoughts, or advice in the comments below!