It was Winter, when our love story started. That is, we turned from acquaintances to close friends in the peak of Winter. In harsh cold, his company was like the fire’s warmth to shed off my cold loneliness.
We weren’t in love yet, but there were inklings of a good friendship, which always preset a relationship. Winter was the time when we were both comforted by each other’s company.
Winter went, to make way for Spring. Our feelings for this warm friendship turned into a blooming love, and the confession made way to the start of a romantic relationship.
The Spring of 20XX felt transiently never-ending. March of that year felt like a rapturous happiness. It was felicity of no-bounds. Even though there was academic pressure, it felt nothing at the face of joy and in exploring the romantic connection.
He loved in the way I didn’t fathom that I will be loved. His loving made me realize Spring’s importance, despite it being ephemeral. His loving made me realize that I was a person who loved selfishly. My inner child felt loved so much, that it stayed till the end, never making way for a mature woman with emotional intelligence, a deserving woman for him.
Short burst of Spring gave way to Summer, and like the land parching, his feelings were drying up. I thought that I knew everything about love relationships that is to be learned from fiction, but I was wrong. Our relationship seemed to be in the last stage, with the end being a break-up.
Like the Summer Rains, there was a brief respite. But Summer was inevitable.
Summer was relentless, without mercy. Grief, resentment, guilt, pain- gamut of sad and angry feelings were abound on both sides.
It was a sad ending, with Winter once again, being cold, and yet having a reminder and hope of that youthful and blooming Spring.
Free-to-use pictures were taken from Pexels website. Credits are given below.
- Winter- Todd Trapani;
- Spring- Rahime Gul;
- Summer- Laker
Musings of an Anonymous Indian 
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