About two years ago, I stood on the edge of a life I thought was permanent, watching it slip through my fingers. A five-year love story dissolved into nothingness, leaving behind a silence that spoke louder than any words.

Heartbreak, I’ve learned, is a quiet, devastating undoing. It doesn’t announce itself with a crash, but seeps in slowly, unspooling the world as you know it. One moment you’re in the orbit of someone you love and the next, you’re floating untethered, staring at the wreckage of something you thought would hold. I’ve sat in that silence, wondering how something so intangible – a bond, a promise, a shared future – could leave such a concrete absence.