Hey there, let me take you on a rollercoaster ride through an unexpected digital love story that unfolded in the world of online connections.
It all began with a quirky greeting, and little did we know that it would lead to a whirlwind of emotions and revelations.
Picture this: "Hi, my half from five and half." That's how it all began. Admittedly, I wasn't too impressed with your initial behaviour. You wished me goodnight, and I decided not to reply, thinking that would be the end of it. But the next morning, you hit me with a "good morning" again, and I thought, why not give this a shot? Soon enough, we were chatting on Skype, and I started feeling more at ease.
Our chats escalated to video calls, which was a bit surprising for me because, at first, I wasn't so keen on talking to you. But your voice and your stories started to grow on me, and I found myself getting more and more interested.
Then came the revelation about your past - a six-year-long live-in relationship with your ex.
I'll be honest; it raised some concerns at my end, and I even thought about distancing myself. But you, you didn't back down. That determination of yours impressed me deeply.
Of course, you were also financially well-off, and that was another curveball in our story. I'd mentioned that I didn't like wealthy guys, and your response, "kal hi bankrupt hojaunga" (I'll go bankrupt tomorrow), made me rethink my stance.
We had our fair share of arguments, but every time, you had a way of making me smile, saying things like "gussa tumhare kaan pe hain" (Your anger is your charm) and comparing me to a hug and a kick.
One unique habit of yours was eating paan after dinner. I suggested that modern girls might not appreciate it, and your response was, "You don't like paan, kal se band kar dunga…" (I'll quit from tomorrow since you don't like it). It's funny how each of your words seemed to stick in my mind and heart.
One day, you wanted to get closer to me, but a disagreement led to you going for a haircut instead. I couldn't help but chuckle at the barber's advice, "ganja karadena kuch idhar udhar hogaya tou" (Shave it all off if it gets messy).
It was a quirky moment, and it made me smile.
Late-night conversations were unforgettable, and you shared your fantasies, like your black magic horse and your farmhouse. Your praise for my pictures, your poetic expressions, and your attention to detail made me fall for you even more.
At some point, I mentioned that other girls would be lining up for you, and your response was, "me tumhe pata raha hu" (I'm trying to win you over). It felt like a dream come true. My reservations about your past began to fade as my feelings for you deepened.
We discussed our future, like how many kids we'd want. I remember suggesting you could find someone younger, but you insisted I was the one you wanted.
Our journey had its fair share of arguments and misunderstandings, but one day, you blindsided me by blocking me on Skype and Hangouts. I was left utterly confused and heartbroken, desperately seeking answers. Why did you inject love into my heart only to seemingly withdraw it? Was it all just a game?
I still hold you close in my heart, Karan, and I hope that you'll read this and return it to me.
Our online connection, though intangible, held real emotions and left an indelible mark on my life. I hope you understand that our feelings and emotions, whether online or in person, are just as genuine.
The pain of separation is the same, no matter the medium. I want you to come back and give me answers to the questions that weigh heavily on my heart. I want you to know that I never considered our time together as a mere time pass, and if you genuinely don't want me, I won't hold you back.
In this vast online world, feelings are real, and I genuinely love you. I yearn for the day when you can explain your departure, and perhaps, in the future, we can explore the possibility of joining your company, as you once suggested.
Until then, know that you remain a significant part of my heart.