It’s 3:28 AM in Mumbai. I just took a shower, but sleep feels impossible. Something crossed my mind a few days ago. I used to avoid reflecting on my feelings, but tonight, I have the time to dwell on them. I still remember every word you said—they resurface unexpectedly. I want to forget, but my mind refuses to let go. Tonight, one particular line came back to me, and after so long, I logged into the chat app to find it. After half an hour of searching—despite the usual internet issues—I finally did— "His only advantage is, he is consistently there, wherever I turn... he is just there..."

For the months we were in contact, I felt happiness, yet beneath it, a constant sense of guilt and stress. I could sense you felt the same. If my persistence ever became overwhelming, I’m truly sorry. I noticed how your mood shifted often, and I never knew if it was because of me or something else. Even after a decade, I still struggle to fully understand you. Perhaps Oscar Wilde was right—women are not meant to be understood, only loved. You are still as captivating as the day I knew you—beautiful, intelligent, strong, and independent. I’ve always admired you.

In one of your last emails, you wished we could meet under better circumstances. You said our love shouldn’t be tainted by infidelity. Matt Haig, in How to Be Happy, wrote "Don't drown in a sea of 'what ifs.' Don't clutter your mind by imagining other versions of you, in parallel universes, where you made different choices." I believe you made the right choice by leaving. It was for your own good when someone else offered you something better. It was a wise decision. As the saying goes, "People leave when they find someone better." Do not feel guilty for betraying our blossoming love.

Our affair brought moments of joy, but it also brought turmoil. My thoughts were restless, my heart unsettled. You said you were exhausted from hiding. Your husband was watching closely. The weight of secrecy drained us both. Missing someone is painful, but it is far less exhausting than living in constant secrecy. Despite the stress, I have to admit, my jealousy was something I couldn’t handle. It tore me apart, causing my emotions to swing wildly. But now, everything seems to have settled into a routine. For us, normal is filled with longing and constant thoughts of each other. That’s just how it is.

I never minded sneaking away to talk to you, but I couldn’t deceive myself—I felt guilty for putting you in that situation. I didn’t want to destroy your marriage. You didn’t deserve that. And, as you said, your husband didn’t deserve to be hurt either. I tried to see things from his perspective, and I couldn’t lie to myself—this affair, despite bringing joy, also carried immense guilt. I had the choice not to disrupt your marriage, so why did I choose otherwise? The responsibility was always mine. Now, at least, we are free from guilt, free from the fear of being discovered. Yet, the burden of longing still haunts us.

Matt Haig also wrote: "The past is the past. The only way to make a better life is from inside the present. To focus on regret does nothing but turn that very present into another thing you will wish you did differently. Accept your own reality. Accepting where you are in life makes it so much easier to be happy with other people." And as you said—this is our reality. We each have our own lives. We must move forward. It’s hard to turn the page when you know someone won’t be in the next chapter, but the story must go on. It is so hard to say goodbye to someone you are not ready to lose.

I try to detach myself from you. Each time my mind drifts back to you, I remind myself of the words you once said—words that left me feeling utterly defeated "Sayang saya untuk awak tak pernah kurang, cuma saya sayangkan dia lebih...", "He loves me wholeheartedly." I hold onto those words, hoping they will help my heart accept what my mind once refused to believe. Maybe then, I can finally silence the thoughts of you. I will always remember what my wife once told me — "The loyal ones always lose to those who are always present." She’s a woman—she understands what you’re going through.

Silence speaks volumes between two people who could have been together but weren’t—yet still carry a soft spot for each other. As Oliver Sacks once wrote, "The meaning of life… is tied to love—who, what, and how we love." Seneca echoed a similar sentiment, saying, "Joy comes from those we love, even in their absence." Victoria Erickson captured the essence of fleeting beauty when she said, "Paradise is not a place. It exists in moments. In connections. In flashes across time." The time we shared was invaluable. To me, you were, as Nasir Kazmi described, "In an era of calamities, you were a moment of peace."

Mumbai, Maharashtra

Feb 5th, 2025