The city looked beautiful from the top of the building.
So many lights.
So many people.
So many lives moving forward.
Laksh stood at the edge and looked down. The wind was strong, but not stronger than the storm inside his head.
He took out his phone and looked at her picture one last time.
Isra.
He smiled a little.
"Funny," he whispered to himself, "how one person can become your whole world… and still you mean nothing to them."
He looked down again.
People looked so small from the top.
Problems also looked small from the top.
Maybe that's why people come up here, he thought.
To make their problems look smaller.
But his problem didn't look small.
It looked endless.
He closed his eyes and memories started playing like a movie.
The first time he saw her.
Her smile.
The way she said "thank you" when he helped her in studies.
The way he waited for her messages.
The way she talked about another boy… while he listened and pretended to be happy for her.
He laughed softly, but his eyes were wet.
"I was never the hero of her story," he said.
"I was just the side character who helped her reach the hero."
The wind blew harder.
He remembered his mother's face.
Her tired eyes.
Her waiting at night.
Her saying, "Beta, eat something."
Her saying, "Don't worry, I am here."
Her saying, "Share your problems with me."
And every time, he shouted at her.
Every time, he ignored her.
Every time, he chose Isra over his own mother.
He looked at his hands.
"These hands helped her… but hurt the person who gave me life."
His phone screen lit up.
No message from Isra.
There never was.
He put the phone back in his pocket and took one step forward.
"People think heartbreak kills you," he said quietly.
"But the truth is… it changes you into someone you don't recognize anymore."
He took another step.
"My name is Laksh.
This is not a love story.
This is a story about how I destroyed my own life… loving someone who never asked for it."
He looked at the sky one last time.
And then he stepped forward.