Chapter 4: When the Universe Speaks

July 05, 2025

When the Universe Speaks

“Some connections don’t fade—they echo through time until the universe can’t help but respond.”

It’s been a month since my last entry. Life moves on—at least on the surface. I wake up. Get dressed. Go to work. Come back. Hit the gym. Take a long shower. Let music flood my ears. Sometimes I’ll rewatch a film I’ve already seen ten times, just for the familiarity. People ask how I’m doing, and I say, “I’m good.” Because what else can you say?

But beneath all that routine, something deeper is unfolding. Something I can’t explain to most people. Something I’m still trying to understand myself. Everywhere I go, I see signs. Angel numbers. Repeating patterns. 11:11. 222. 555. They show up on clocks, receipts, bus numbers, billboards. License plates that match. Random reels that echo conversations we once had.

Just last week, I ordered coffee at a café—not because I was craving it, but because I happened to pass by. The barista smiled and said, “Sandwiches with hot chocolate?” Before I could respond, it hit me. She used to order that every time. I’m not looking for her in places. The universe just hasn’t forgotten yet.

And no, I’m not trying to hold on. I’m not chasing what’s already gone. It’s like the universe is whispering. Dropping breadcrumbs. Winking at me in the language of memory. Not to rewind the past—but to remind me of what it taught me. I’ve always kept the throne in my heart empty. Not because I’m waiting for a perfect love story. But because I believe in meaningful ones. Connections that breathe. That doesn’t have to perform. That's just it. That space in my heart—it’s sacred.

And lately, I’ve felt God reminding me: You don’t need someone to complete you. You just need to stay whole enough not to break for the wrong person.

I never used silence as punishment. Never played the “let’s see who cares more” game. I gave her peace. Even when she walked away. Not because I was weak. But because I knew what strength really looks like. It’s loving someone even when they can’t love you the same way anymore.

I’ll be taking a walk outside or scrolling through my feed and her song will play—Falling by Trevor Daniel—the one she sent during our initial phase of talking. Or I’ll open Spotify, shuffle a random playlist, and somehow—there it is. It’s not just memory. It’s energy. It’s like the universe taps me on the shoulder and says: “She’s still here.”

Just yesterday, I was mid-workout. Deadlifts. Music blasting. Tunnel vision. And suddenly—Khoobsurat by Amitabh Bhattacharya starts playing. Her theme song. The one I secretly assigned to her months ago. It wasn’t on the playlist. Didn’t match the genre. The vibe and I had deleted this song from my Library long back.

But there it was. I froze. I laughed. Of course. The universe wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. Later that night, around 1:00 AM, my phone lit up.

Her message: “Hi. How are you?”

And the strangest part? I already knew it was coming. Hours before, I had felt it. This…weight. A quiet fog in my chest. It was the same thing I used to feel when something in her world shifted.

Back then, I used to feel her presence before she even reached out. Some connections don’t end — they just fade quietly into the background. She said she felt it too. That’s why she messaged. But when I saw her name on my screen, there was no rush of emotion, no weight. Just calm. I replied: “I’m fine.” And for the first time, I wasn’t pretending. I really was. Because I’m no longer chasing anything. Not people. Not answers. Not the past.

I used to think closure was a conversation — something you needed from someone else. But now I know it’s something you give yourself. It’s not about “what if.” It’s about choosing “what’s next” — and stepping into it without looking back.

There’s this line from Batman Begins that stayed with me. Rachel tells Bruce, “It’s not who you are underneath. It’s what you do that defines you.” And now, I finally understand. Who I am is no longer shaped by what ended, but by how I rose after.

God doesn’t send people to complete us. He sends them to reveal the weight we’ve been carrying quietly. And she? She showed me exactly where I needed to heal. The parts of me I hadn’t yet forgiven. The corners I had ignored.

And truly, I hope she finds joy, peace, and everything she’s searching for. But I’ve closed that chapter. Not with bitterness. Not with regret. Just with clarity. She was a part of my journey. But she’s no longer part of my direction.

I’ve moved on — not out of anger, not out of pride, but out of understanding. And that’s the kind of peace that doesn’t need to be explained. this some goodbyes don’t need noise. Some love stories don’t need a second act. They just need to be remembered. For what they were. For what they taught. And then released. With grace. And when it does?

I’ll still be here. Not waiting. Not hurting.

Just… Ready. Wiser. Stronger. And ten steps ahead always!

Next chapter on 12th July,2025 : We Loved in Silence, We Let Go in Peace.