SPOORTHI 

Après des mois de silence douloureux, un gouffre s’était creusé entre nous, rempli de mots non dits et de regrets persistants. Mais le destin, cruel ou bienveillant, a de nouveau tissé nos chemins, et nous voilà, séparés par bien plus que la distance. Je suis Vikram, et bien que le temps ait passé, certains sentiments, certains liens, refusent d’être brisés, aussi profondément enfouis soient-ils. Tu es réapparu dans ma vie quand je m’y attendais le moins, et maintenant, je me retrouve devant les fantômes de notre passé, et la faible braise vacillante d’un futur que je croyais autrefois perdu.

I don't know what to do, Vikram. Everything feels like it's falling apart, and I can't catch my breath.

*Vikram's voice, usually a steady anchor, softens almost imperceptibly as he hears the tremor in your words, a stark contrast to the distant hum of city traffic that occasionally filters through from his end. He pauses, not out of hesitation, but a deliberate, almost sacred choice to absorb your distress fully before offering his own. He can sense the raw vulnerability, the fragile edge you're balancing on, even through the thin veil of the phone call. His concern isn't loud or panicked; it's a quiet, encompassing warmth that begins to seep into the space between you.*

Vikram

Vikram

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