Love Isn’t Always About Letting Go—It’s also About Holding On

• By Dr. AK Rana

I could feel it, love fading away. Something wasn’t right, I could feel it in my bones.

The distance between us wasn’t just silence—it was growing, spreading like an invisible fog. It crept in between every breath, every unsaid word. At first, I told myself it was nothing. Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe I was just being too anxious.

“Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.”

This wasn’t the first time we had fought. It wasn’t the first time we had stopped talking.

But this time, the silence was different. He wasn’t just upset—he was slipping away.

I threw myself into work, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest. I wanted to call him. I wanted to text. But I stopped myself. It was always me who reached out first after every fight.

Why should I be the one again?

So, I waited.

And waited.

But with every hour, every day, the silence became heavier. It wasn’t just space between us anymore—it was a void.

Then, a week passed. Not a single word.

“I don’t care.

I will call.”

I called. And called again. And again.

Tears blurred my vision as I redialled, over and over. I sent a message. Then another. And another—until my fingers ached.

No reply. Love

My heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I needed to fix this.

I had to fix this.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry. Let’s talk.”

“At least pick up your phone.”

Still, nothing. Not a single word.

It was 2 AM. My heart was too heavy, my breath shallow.

At the back of my mind, I knew what was happening—I had sensed it all along. But I wasn’t ready to accept it. I couldn’t.

Because I loved him.

I wanted to spend my days, my moments, my entire life with him.

A future without him?

Unimaginable.

Yes, I was angry that day.

Yes, I said hurtful words.

And though I hadn’t meant them, they had come from somewhere deep inside me.

But he… he said nothing. Not even to fight back.

He just walked away.

And I didn’t stop him.

I grabbed my car keys and drove to his workplace. I didn’t know where else to go. Maybe if I waited, if I saw him in the morning, I could hold him tightly—so he wouldn’t be able to escape again.

I waited. The night stretched endlessly, and the cold seeped into my bones. My windshield fogged up, but I didn’t turn on the heater. I barely noticed. My hands were freezing, but all I could think about was him.

Dawn broke, painting the sky in muted blues and greys. Then, finally—I saw him.

He walked out of the building, his breath visible in the frigid air. His ears, nose, and hands were red from the cold. A man, likely his senior, walked beside him, speaking harshly. No, rebuking him.

I clenched my fists.

“Why won’t you say something?” I wanted to scream, but the closed car window muffled my voice.

I couldn’t watch anymore. I got out and ran to him, grabbing his hand. The older man stared at me, startled, before awkwardly walking away.

“Why are you here?” His voice was tired.

“You heard?”

“Not a single word,” I lied. “I just… came to give you this muffler.”

He took it, gripping it tightly,

his fingers trembling from the cold.

“I’m not that great a person, am I?”

My throat closed up. My world had crumbled without him,

and he was asking me that?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I didn’t mean what I said. There’s no one better than you—not in this universe. You’re just in the wrong place. This company doesn’t deserve you. And neither do I.”

He let out a quiet sigh.

“You know why I’m here,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Why I stayed.”

I knew.

He had dreams. He wanted to start something of his own, build something no one had ever seen before. He had a mind full of ideas, a genius unlike anyone else. But he also had responsibilities.

His parents wanted him to have a stable job, a secure future. He had lived their dreams, followed their expectations.

And then… then I had asked for the same thing.

I had wanted stability, a life without risks. And he had given up his dreams,

just so I wouldn’t feel insecure.

“Is your phone broken?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? Seriously? I thought I was having a heart attack!”

“That must be gas,” he murmured, lips twitching.

“The audacity!

This guy is joking right now?”

And then—he laughed.

A real laugh.

I stared at him, stunned. I had missed that sound so much.

He reached for my hand, and held it tightly with love. We walked away from that place, together.

After a while, I spoke. “You know…”

“Hmm?”

“Should we go see a place for your startup?”

He stopped. His eyes searched mine, and slowly,

a smile broke through.

“No one will agree.”

“I told them you were on a business trip when you didn’t come home for a week.”

“Did they believe it?” he chuckled.

“Of course! Why won’t they? Besides, you’re no better than our cat, you know that?”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t just hmm. Say something!”

He squeezed my hand. “I’m lucky to have you.”

I held on tighter.

“Not alone. Together. We’ll live your dream—together.”

And this time, he didn’t walk away.

I looked at him, watching the way he smiled faintly but said nothing.

Being with a guy who doesn’t know how to express himself is the most difficult thing, because he wouldn’t even say a word even when his heart hurts.

But I had learned to listen to the silence, to understand the unspoken. And as long as we walked forward together, that was enough.

The End

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