Beyond the Last Breath

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

In a small town, nestled between the hills and the flowing Ganges, lived Aarav and Meera. Aarav was a simple boy, always lost in his books, while Meera was a vibrant girl who loved to dance in the rain. Their love story started when Meera saved Aarav's kite from getting tangled in her mango tree.

"You don't even know how to fly a kite properly," she teased, handing it back to him.

"And you don't even know how to climb a tree properly," he retorted, noticing the scratch on her arm.

From that day, they became inseparable. Aarav’s quietness found a melody in Meera’s laughter, and Meera’s chaos found peace in Aarav’s calm. They would meet by the riverside every evening, where Aarav read poetry to Meera, and she hummed it into a tune.

But fate, as unpredictable as life itself, took a cruel turn. One winter evening, Aarav fell ill with a rare disease. Doctors tried their best, but the illness was beyond cure. Meera, refusing to give up, stayed by his side day and night. She whispered to him, “Aarav, if you go, you’ll still stay with me, right?”

Aarav smiled weakly, “I’ll never leave, Meera. Death can’t stop me. I promise you.”

One fateful dawn, Aarav took his last breath while holding Meera’s hand. She sobbed, her heart breaking into a million pieces. But Aarav’s promise echoed in her mind.

Days turned into weeks, but Meera felt his presence everywhere—his favorite kite hanging in her room, the smell of old books in the air, and even the sound of his voice in the rustling of leaves. One day, she found a letter hidden in Aarav's poetry book. It read:

"Meera,

Even if my body gives up, my love never will. I’ll be in the songs you hum, in the rains you dance in, and in the wind that plays with your hair. Close your eyes, and I’ll be there."

Meera smiled through her tears. True to his promise, Aarav stayed with her, not in flesh but in spirit. She started painting, something she’d never tried before, and every painting reflected Aarav’s essence—a boy flying a kite, a couple sitting by the river, a silhouette reading poetry under a banyan tree.

Years passed, but Meera never felt alone. On her deathbed, she whispered, “I’m coming, Aarav.” Her eyes closed peacefully, and it is said that the next day, two kites flew together in the sky above the town, dancing in the wind as if celebrating their eternal union.

For Aarav and Meera, love didn’t end with death—it transcended it, weaving a tale that the winds still carried in whispers through the town.