There’s a story I read long ago — one that stayed with me not because it spoke of grand gestures or eternal romance, but because it reflected something quietly human in all of us.
A girl once asked her boyfriend, “Who do you love most in this world?”
Without hesitation, he said, “You, of course.”
When she asked what she truly meant to him, he paused and replied, “You are my rib.”
A line borrowed from an old Biblical metaphor — tender, symbolic, deeply personal.
But love, as many of us eventually learn, isn’t just about finding the right person.
It’s about keeping them — through misunderstandings, through pride, through the noise of everyday life.
One day, in a moment of anger, he said the words that would haunt him for years:
“Maybe it was a mistake for us to be together. You were never meant for me.”
The words fell heavy. She went silent, then said softly,
“If I’m not meant for you, then let me go. It’s less painful this way.”
And she walked away.
Time — as it always does — kept moving.
Years later, fate crossed their paths again.
At an airport, where goodbyes are ordinary and reunions feel almost routine, they exchanged smiles, revisited old memories, and promised to meet again once they were both back in the city.
A week later, he learned she had died in a tragic accident.
We all have moments when frustration speaks louder than love — we lash out at the ones closest to us.
Forgetting that spoken words don’t return to us, they grow roots, they leave marks, they outlive the moment.
Perhaps the real wisdom is in pausing before speaking. In holding back the words that anger pushes to the surface. In remembering that some things, once said, can’t be unsaid —
and some people, once gone, never return.
So if you’ve found your person —
the one who understands your silences, accepts your imperfections, and still chooses you —
tell them.
Not once. Not twice.
But often.
This post has two inspirations:
Story of a Japanese man named Otou Katayama, who stopped speaking to his wife, Yumi, for 20 years after an argument in 1997, but they continued to live together and raise their family. The silence was finally broken in 2017 through a TV show.
A song from the movie “Aap Ki Kasam” - Lyricist: Anand Bakshi and singer Kishore Kumar
ज़िंदगी के सफ़र में गुज़र जाते हैं जो मुक़ाम,
In the journey of life, the moments that pass by,
वो फिर नहीं आते।
They never return.
वो फिर नहीं आते।
They truly never return.
फूल खिलते हैं, लोग मिलते हैं।
Flowers bloom, people meet.
फूल खिलते हैं, लोग मिलते हैं मगर—
Flowers bloom, people meet, but—
पतझड़ में जो फूल मुरझा जाते हैं,
The flowers that wither in autumn,
वो बहारों के आने से खिलते नहीं।
Don’t blossom again, even when spring returns.
कुछ लोग एक रोज़ जो बिछड़ जाते हैं,
Some people, who part from us one day,
वो हज़ारों के आने से मिलते नहीं।
Don’t come back to us, even if thousands arrive.
उम्र भर चाहे कोई पुकारा करे उनका नाम—
Even if one calls their name for a lifetime—
वो फिर नहीं आते।
They don’t return.
वो फिर नहीं आते।
They never return.
