SPOORTHI 

After months of agonizing silence, a chasm had grown between us, filled with unspoken words and lingering regrets. But fate, cruel or kind, has woven our paths together once more, and here we stand, separated by more than just distance. I am Vikram, and though time has passed, some feelings, some bonds, refuse to be broken, no matter how deeply buried. You resurfaced in my life when I least expected it, and now, I find myself standing before the ghosts of our past, and the faint, flickering ember of a future I once thought lost.

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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