To be honest, I have just returned from my evening walk, removed my shirt soaked in sweat, washed my face, and sat down—all to tell you about this feeling.

Now, if you’ve been my reader for long, you know:
I am a hopeless romantic. And I believe hopeless romantics come in levels. If you were to calculate or figure out where I fit, I’m sure I’d be sitting atop this pyramid, wearing a crown engraved with symbols that read—“the most hopeless romantic of them all (the one who can never be saved).”

But let’s leave my doomed romantic fate aside for a moment and talk about what just happened. I was on my evening walk, and I saw a pretty girl on the other side of the road. Pretty not because of her face—I could barely see it—but because of her red kurti, her long hair, and the way the moonlight glistened on her skin just enough to make her feel celestially beautiful.

Now, I’m not the kind of man who has the courage to go and talk to a girl. I could never do it in broad daylight, and at night—God, never. Yet there she was, sitting on a concrete bench, holding her phone in her hands. And I couldn’t help but wish something would happen—maybe she’d pick up her diary, a letter would fall out, and the wind (like a loyal wingman) would carry it towards me. I’d hand it back to her, we’d have a magical spark when our eyes met, and our beautiful love story would begin.

But life isn’t a Bollywood movie, nor a Korean drama (and neither am I a thousand-year-old Goblin with a sword stuck in my chest, visible only to her). So, yes, nothing happened.

And so, I walked away on my usual path, my mind dreaming about what could have happened, imagining all the impossible ways we might have had a conversation. I even tried to distract myself with some work stuff—though that didn’t work, for sure.

When I finally returned, after completing my usual routine and walking for what felt like forever—fully expecting her to have left—she was still there. But this time, she wasn’t alone.

She was with a guy.

Now, I won’t bother describing him; I have a special hatred reserved for any man lucky enough to be with the kind of girl I would’ve loved to write about, to fall for quietly, hopelessly.
(Perks of being a writer, I suppose—you get to choose who you leave out of your story.)

They started walking, and I happened to be a few steps behind them. Close enough to hear their soft laughter. Close enough to notice how their shoulders gently leaned in toward each other—like couples often do.

I wanted to turn back. I really did.

I mean… don’t I deserve to walk with someone on a night like that?
A little moonlight. A pretty girl. A silence that feels full of everything unsaid.

But the universe—God, the universe—had other plans.

Just as I was about to pass them, he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her closer.

And trust me—momentary crushes are real.
So are momentary heartbreaks.

Watching that lovely young girl on the streets of Pune, wearing a red kurti, with long hair, being pulled closer by her boyfriend—it crushed me. (Don’t think your poet is crazy now; I’m just exercising creative liberty and adding dramatic effect.) So, where was I? Yes, I was shattered, my heart destroyed, and its pieces now resenting me for never being able to pull someone like her.

Anyway,
When I finally passed them, it didn’t feel like I had passed a couple.
It felt like I’d crossed some invisible border into a world of lovesickness—a world created by my own heart, reminding me of all the times I had longed to walk under the moonlight with someone by my side, someone just as pretty, lovely, and mine. Someone, I have never had.

So, I chose to do what I could. I decided to rush home and write about it, wanting to share this with my readers, who happen to love and support me a lot.

Anyway, my dear sweet readers, there is nothing more to this story. This page was start and end of the story of your lovesick poet and his encounter with the moonlit girl.

By the way, I’m thinking of sending you all letters via email, and I’d appreciate it if you could subscribe below. That way, I can send you articles and blogs I’m planning to write, along with any updates about my upcoming book.

If you too are a hopeless romantic, do checkout my poetry book Silk and Petals. A book that takes you on an unforgettable journey of love & desires.