"Eternal Sparks"


Roop was a man of many layers. To the world, he was a successful businessman, a brilliant strategist whose mind could weave through the complexities of the corporate world with unmatched ease. He was also a singer, his voice soft but powerful, often filling rooms with melodies that could make even the hardest of hearts tremble. But there was another side to him—one few saw—the spiritual guide, the man who found peace in silence, and who had once lost himself in the magic of a love that would never fade.

Kotha, on the other hand, was the embodiment of warmth. A therapist by profession, she had the rare ability to heal others not just through words, but with the kindness in her touch and the depth in her heart. Her soul was poetic, her mind ever curious, always seeking to understand the human experience. She had a gift of listening, and through her gentle guidance, many had found their way. But like Roop, Kotha carried a secret of her own—a love that had bloomed in the most unexpected of circumstances.

Their first meeting was at a family gathering. The air was thick with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Roop, there at the request of his family, was engaged to Kotha's family firnd, a match arranged with the precision of tradition. Kotha, ever the free spirit, had always questioned the rigidity of family expectations, but she respected them. She hadn’t expected anything from that evening, certainly not a spark that would change the course of her life.

But when their eyes met, everything shifted.

It was subtle at first—a fleeting glance across the room. The connection was unspoken but undeniable. It felt as if time had momentarily paused, and the world had shrunk to just the two of them. Kotha, with her soft smile, and Roop, with the quiet intensity of someone who had seen more than most, felt the pull. There was an understanding between them, something deeper than words could express. A mutual recognition of a bond neither of them fully understood, but both of them instinctively knew was real.

They spent the evening talking, exchanging glances and laughter. And in those brief hours, they shared pieces of themselves—fragments of their hearts that they hadn’t offered to anyone else. But the truth hung between them like an invisible thread, taut with the weight of family expectations. Roop, already engaged to Kotha's cousin, could not entertain the idea of anything more than fleeting friendship. Kotha, a lover of life, had always believed that love should be free, but she knew the constraints of family far too well.

The night ended with a bittersweet farewell, neither of them knowing when they would see each other again. Roop's heart, heavy with duty, and Kotha's soul, confused and conflicted, parted ways under the weight of the unspoken.

Months passed, and while Roop tried to honor his engagement, the memory of Kotha lingered like a ghost, haunting him at the most unexpected moments. There was a depth to her, a clarity, and a warmth that he could not ignore. He struggled with the idea of love being bound by the rules of family and society, but the love he felt for Kotha was not something that could be ignored. It was profound. It was eternal.

And then, Kotha left for abroad—an opportunity to serve, to help those in need. Her heart was heavy as she boarded the plane, but she knew she had to go. Time and distance, she thought, would ease the ache that grew every time she thought of Roop. But no matter how far she traveled, no matter how many lives she touched, Roop remained etched in her heart. She would carry him with her, silently, as she built a life of her own.

The years went by—22 of them. Roop had married, as per family expectations, but the marriage crumbled under the weight of unspoken truths and the ghost of a love he had never truly let go. Kotha, too, had married, hoping to bury the past and create a future that was her own, but her heart, like Roop's, remained tethered to something it could never fully escape.

And then, by some twist of fate, their paths crossed again.




"Unfinished Melodies"

The 22 years had passed like pages torn from an old book—silent, inevitable, each one carrying a piece of their story. It had been twenty-two years since Kotha and Roop last saw each other, twenty-two years since life had pulled them apart in the name of duty and expectations. But time had never been able to erase the echo of their love.

And now, here they were. Face to face.

The café was warm, filled with the quiet hum of conversations and the soft clinking of coffee cups. Outside, the city moved on with its usual rhythm—people rushing, life unfolding, unaware that two souls had just collided after twenty-two years of longing.

Roop sat by the window, his fingers wrapped around a cup of black coffee, but he hardly noticed the taste. His heart was too full, his mind too overwhelmed. Across from him sat Kotha, her presence as familiar as the air he breathed.

She was different now—older, perhaps a little wiser, but still carrying that same warmth in her eyes, the same depth in her smile.

And yet, as much as they had changed, the moment they looked at each other, they were the same Roop and Kotha from years ago—the ones who had fallen in love without meaning to, who had dreamed of a life together, only to be pulled apart by circumstances they could not control.

"You look good," Kotha said softly, stirring her tea.

Roop smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "And you... you look happy."

Kotha hesitated for a moment before answering, "I have a good life. A family. Responsibilities." She paused. "And you?"

Roop exhaled, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from his coffee. "Divorced. The marriage didn’t work out. Maybe because..." He stopped himself, but Kotha knew what he meant. Maybe because his heart had never fully belonged there.


He had changed—there were lines on his face, streaks of silver in his hair, but the eyes? The eyes remained the same. They held the weight of years, of unsaid words, of a love that had never been given the chance to fully bloom.

Kotha felt her breath catch. She should not feel this way. She was married now, had built a life of stability, of responsibility. And yet, as she looked at Roop, something stirred in her chest—a longing, an ache that had never truly left her.


Words failed them. What could they possibly say? That they had thought of each other every single day? That their hearts had never quite moved on? That despite all the years, all the distances, they had remained tethered by an invisible thread?


"Did you ever think about me?" Roop asked after a long silence.

Kotha let out a soft, bittersweet laugh. "Not a single day passed when I didn't."


"Do you ever think about us?" Roop asked.

Kotha’s fingers tightened around her cup. She didn’t look at him when she whispered, "Every single day."

The confession hung between them, raw and exposed.

Roop let out a soft chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "Isn't it strange? We spent more time apart than we ever did together, yet it still feels like... like we never left."

Kotha smiled sadly. "Because some loves don't fade with time. They just... learn to exist in silence."


His eyes darkened with emotion. "Then why does it feel like we are still where we left off? As if the years never happened?"

Kotha sighed, looking down at her hands. "Because love like this doesn’t just disappear. It lingers, even when you try to bury it."

Roop clenched his fists. "I tried to move on, Kotha. I tried to live without you, but I always felt like something was missing."

She turned to him then, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know," she whispered. "Because I felt it too."

There was so much to say, so many emotions threatening to spill over, yet neither of them could afford to cross a line. Kotha was married. She had built a life with someone else. And Roop, though separated, knew he could not ask her to undo what she had created for herself.

And so, they did what they had always done—they carried their love in silence.

In the days that followed, they met in stolen moments. Not in secrecy, not in betrayal, but in the quiet understanding of two souls that had always belonged to each other. They spoke of the past, of the life they had imagined together. They laughed, they reminisced, they held onto the time they had left.

But when the time came for Kotha to leave again, Roop did not ask her to stay.

And Kotha did not ask him to wait.

Instead, as they stood under the evening sky, she placed a hand over his heart. "No matter where I go, you will always be here," she said softly.

Roop placed his hand over hers. "And you will always be here," he replied, touching his chest.


There were no grand declarations, no desperate pleas to rewrite their fates. They were past that.

Instead, when Kotha rose to leave, Roop reached for her hand—not to hold her back, but simply to hold her, one last time. She squeezed his fingers gently, a silent goodbye, a silent promise that he would always be a part of her, just as she would always be a part of him.



They did not need promises, nor did they need a future together to justify what they had. Some loves do not need endings. Some loves exist simply to remind us that the deepest connections never truly break.

And so, Kotha walked away.

And Roop watched her go.

But in their hearts, they knew—they would carry each other, always.
Some stories don’t need an ending. Some loves don’t need a future.

Some loves simply live on, carried in the heart, forever unfinished