Some Love is Like Autumn—Beautiful, Yet Meant to Fall

By Dr. AK Rana

Walking down the same path after ten years felt nostalgic with that unfamiliar yet close feeling of love. The mansion still stood tall, its vintage garden blooming with stories of the past. Her room overlooked it, just as it always had.

…

Countless memories lay hidden there, yet her connection to them was different—more distant now, and a love never forgotten.

Do we always need to understand why we like something? Would it lose its meaning if we did? Liking someone often comes with reasons—because of what they do, because of what they don’t. But she had never quite figured out why she liked him. Or maybe, like everyone else, she had simply been searching for something through the small window of her world.

She used to sit there, working on her college assignments, gazing outside—not just at the sky, the birds, but at him.

He worked in the garden from morning till evening, tending to it with an artist’s touch. His hands sculpted the leaves, his fingers caressed the petals as if they were fragile whispers of life. There was patience in his movements, passion in the way he nurtured every plant.

After his morning labor, he’d take a short afternoon nap before returning in the evening, meticulously checking every detail before calling it a day. He hummed soft, local tunes while he worked, his lips curving into a smile of quiet satisfaction as he admired his own handiwork.

She had come to her grandfather’s house for summer vacation and was tasked with overseeing the new recruits. He was one of them.

She found herself drawn to him, watching as he carefully crafted beauty from the soil. No one in the village truly saw his work for what it was—art. Not even he realized how exceptional he was. He was simply content with his small life.

At first, he had been wary of her constant presence. But over time, he grew used to the way she followed him, studying his work with silent admiration. They spoke little, barely breathing too loudly—after all, the mansion had many watchful eyes.

Yet, when she was late one evening, he waited. And when she didn’t show up at all, he waited longer. The next morning, when she finally returned, he was there with a bouquet—one he had crafted so intricately that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever received.

It was the first time he had seen someone look at his work with so much love.

But someone else had seen them too.

The next day, her grandfather dismissed him. No explanation. No confrontation. Just an order. She looked out the window, but he was gone. She wandered the garden, but no one came to tend it. All she got was a return ticket. That was how her life always was—statements, never explanations. Orders, never questions.

As she packed her bags, her gaze fell on the bouquet. Outside, the first sunlight touched the garden he had once cared for. For the first time, she stepped out without asking for permission. She didn’t know exactly where he lived—only a vague idea. She ran through the village, asking, searching, but it was like looking for a single straw in a haystack.

Breathless, she finally paused to rest when someone tapped her shoulder.

It wasn’t him.

His brother stood before her.

…

“He left early this morning,” he said. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

When she returned to the mansion, a tall figure stood at the gate. He held a small basket, woven finely from thin wooden strips.

…

“This is for you,” he said, his deep brown eyes warm. “A farewell gift.”

“You don’t blame me? I made you lose your job.”

He smiled, a quiet understanding in his gaze. “I realized something. No matter how much I loved that garden, it would never be mine. I had to let it go.”

“I see.”

“But one day, I will build my own. So when you come back, you won’t have to hide.”

But She never went back, she never returned.

Ten years later, she still remembered his words. She still remembered him. But life had moved on. What was she to him now—just a memory?

As she wandered through the market, a familiar voice caught her attention. Across the street stood a décor shop, bustling with customers from far-off places. And there he was.

He looked different—older, successful. And he saw her too.

She took a step forward.

But then she noticed the child holding his hand, the beautiful woman bringing him lunch.

She stopped.
He looked at her, as if recognizing the past in her eyes.
She smiled.
Without another word, she turned and walked away. After all, he had built his own garden—a life no one could take from him.

…

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also read Frozen Goodbye – It wasn’t a new beginning. It was a long-delayed goodbye.