Sometimes life gets the best of you.

Life is not always what it seems to be. Sometimes, you don’t even know the pain your loved ones are carrying. You don’t see the struggles they are fighting silently—until the time you had with them slips through your fingers. And then you realize… Why didn’t I notice? Why didn’t I see that it was hurting them this much? Why didn’t they tell me? Was I not good enough to be trusted? Did I not deserve to know?

And just like that, regret and guilt consume you whole.

No matter what you do, you can’t turn back time. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. Your heart aches, your mind races—but time… time never stops.

Is it really that hard to survive sometimes?

Maybe yes.

Sometimes these thoughts run through my mind: Am I being too much? When it hurts, it hurts—right? But am I really hurting that much, or am I just acting? Am I overreacting to something small? So many thoughts keep circling in my head.

We are all different. But some people are different in a way that makes it harder for them. Maybe they were born that way. They don’t know how to express their emotions. They don’t know how to tell someone, “This is hurting me,” without feeling guilty… without overthinking it again and again.

I’ve always thought I was a good person. But sometimes I find myself questioning—am I really a good person?

No one is perfect. We all make mistakes. That’s what makes us human, right? But sometimes even a small mistake can leave a deep impact on someone else. And that’s when you start doubting yourself.

Life was never easy. But it feels harder now.

I really wanted to live. I still do. But sometimes I sit quietly and wonder—what is there for me? If I disappeared one day, who would look for me now? Is there anyone who truly knows me?

“Anvi.”

“Huh?” I blinked, coming out of my thoughts and looking around. I had been lost for a moment. Did I slip back again?

I was standing behind the counter of the café where I worked. It was evening in Paris—the kind of evening that made the city look almost unreal. Soft golden light filtered through the windows, touching the quiet streets outside.

The café was nearly empty. It was almost closing time.

Even though the coffee machine had stopped long ago, its sound still echoed faintly in my head. Today had been unusually slow; not many customers had come in. But sometimes, it wasn’t the noise that unsettled me—it was the silence. The stillness always pulled me somewhere deep inside, somewhere I didn’t want to go. It made me feel… unwell.

“Are you alright? I’ve been calling you for a while now.”

David—one of my colleagues—was looking at me. His voice was calm and gentle, but there was a hint of concern in it.

“Yes, I’m alright,” I replied, offering him a small smile. “I was just thinking about something.”

My last words faded into a murmur.

“Okay, it’s time to go home. There are no customers today, so I don’t think there’s any point in staying longer,” he said, glancing around the café.

“Yeah… I think you’re right,” I replied, taking a slow, deep breath.

“Don’t worry. I’ll close the café today. You can leave now if you want,” he added, his voice reassuring.

“Yeah, I think I should go,” I said quietly, turning to gather my belongings.

It was usually my responsibility to close the café and hand the keys to the owner. Most days, we left together, and sometimes my colleagues helped me. But today… Today I really needed to go home.

I walked into the small staff room where we kept our belongings. It was empty. My bag was the only thing left, resting on the table where I had placed it earlier. I guess everyone had already left while I was lost in my thoughts.

Letting out another slow breath, I picked up my bag and made my way toward the door.

As I stepped out of the café, the long street came into view—the one that led all of us to our home.

The evening air was gentle, the city glowing softly under the fading light. Everything outside felt calm, settled… peaceful.

But inside, it was chaos.

It had been a month. A whole month since I came back to Paris.

My steps suddenly slowed as the thought of home crossed my mind. Not this apartment. Not this city.

Home.

My real home.

India.

I had gone there after my graduation six months ago and had returned to Paris just a month back. I hadn’t planned on coming back. Not this soon. Not ever again and not like this.

But destiny has a strange way of rearranging plans. And somehow, I found myself here again.

I looked up at the sky, glowing in soft shades of gold and violet. The beauty of it made my eyes shimmer, and a faint smile formed on my lips.

“I hope you’re doing good there… and you’re happy now,” I whispered.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

I quickly wiped it away and began walking again toward my apartment.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

In the past few days, everything had changed so quickly that we barely understood what had happened. Things fell apart just when they had started to feel stable—like nothing could possibly go wrong. In a month everything changes so do I.

“Are you lost somewhere?” Shivansh asked, noticing that Armaan hadn’t touched his work for quite some time.

“Huh? Umm… no. Why?” Armaan replied, looking at his colleague.

“I don’t know. You just look like you’re somewhere else,” Shivansh said casually.

“I’m not lost anywhere,” Armaan insisted.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Shivansh replied dryly, glancing at Armaan’s desk—where a file lay abandoned, wide open.

Armaan followed his gaze. His eyes fell on the untouched file, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“Man, you’re in your forties, not sixties. At least finish your work first,” Shivansh muttered before turning back to his computer screen.

“I’m sorry. I’ll finish this file,” Armaan murmured, turning back to his desk.

“Take a break if you can’t focus,” Shivansh said, without looking at him.

Armaan didn’t reply. He simply lowered his gaze and forced himself to work.

After office hours, both of them stepped outside together.

“Man, it’s been a month. You’ve been acting weird,” Shivansh pointed out, glancing at him.

“How?” Armaan asked quietly.

Shivansh shrugged. “Look at you. You used to be so active at work—even after you got married. And now…” He paused, studying him. “Now you act like you’re not yourself anymore.”

Armaan gave a faint, almost bitter smile.

“Maybe sometimes guilt changes people,” he said softly.

Shivansh shot him a sideways look. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Armaan replied quickly, brushing off the topic as he started walking toward his house.

Shivansh didn’t say anything after that. They walked silently side by side.

Their steps finally halted when Shivansh had to take a different route home. He gave a small nod in goodbye before turning down the other street.

Armaan stood there for a moment, then continued walking toward the bus stop with a heavy heart.

He looked up at the sky, beautifully painted in shades of fading orange and violet. A gentle wind brushed past him, making the leaves on the trees dance softly. Everything looked peaceful.

But he wasn’t.

He stood at the bus stop, waiting. His house was far away.

“I hope you’re not hurting anymore,” he murmured under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the sky.

Soon, the bus arrived. He stepped inside and took a seat by the window, staring blankly outside as the city moved past him.

Life is unpredictable.

Sometimes we fight so hard for moments that were never meant to stay with us. We only realize someone’s worth after they are gone. And then what remains is not the person—but the regret. The guilt.

Sometimes it hurts so much that you wish you could turn back time. But all you can do is sit with the weight of it… and live with the consequences.

You didn’t care about the person when they were with you—so why regret it later?

It has always been like that, hasn’t it?

Sometimes we become so selfish that we forget to consider the other person’s feelings. And then, when it’s too late, regret is all that remains.

Will it change anything?

No.

Will it bring the person back?

No.

Will it undo the wrong things we did?

No.

Then why do we get stuck in this endless loop of guilt?

Why couldn’t we treat them right when they were still with us? And if we didn’t have the courage to love them properly, why didn’t we just let them go? Why make their lives more complicated? Why not let them live the way they wanted?

So many questions.

And now, no one left to answer them.

Is it going to be like this from now on?

This constant, uneasy weight in my chest?

Armaan took a deep breath and leaned his head against the bus window, watching the blurred lights pass by. He hoped that maybe the calm outside could quiet the storm inside him.

But some storms do not settle that easily.

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