No, I don’t see you in my things anymore. I don’t see you in my clean fan, which you always desired so but never found. No, I don’t see you in the books, mostly about estranged lovers, that you have left behind. I don’t remember you while having chai, your characteristic beverage. I don’t remember you while watering the money plant you gifted. I don’t miss you while chopping the onions, even though they never turn out to be as fine as when you would. I don’t miss you at Chai & Kadi, your favourite tea place here. I don’t compulsively check your WhatsApp anymore to see if you’re online or not.
I don’t feel the urge to talk to you anymore.
For anyone else coping from an unannounced departure of someone they loved, these would be the signs of moving on. Of acceptance and burial, of peace and solitude. For me, these are the signs moving on. The signs from the universe that whispered that you’re the one for me & I’m the one for you. The signs that waited for months & ultimately had to give up & leave. I am left with one question. When did your signs move on? I fear it was right when you were there with me. It must be so hard to be the first one to fall out of love.