The last petal fell to the ground mercilessly. The promise of death had betrayed it. The promise of life ruined it. And, the commitment to companionship shattered it. Who was it that plucked the threads of lives holding it together? Who was it who held its wholeness and trampled over the beauty of its being? Wasn’t love enough from a distance? Could it and its counterparts not be admired without shredding it?
Was Nothingness, the name of this petal, also its destiny?

Nothingness had lived and loved the bloom life had to offer. It had danced with the breeze and absorbed even the last bits of sunshine peaking through the sky before saying a final goodbye.

Nothingness had made friends with bees and wasps. It had witnessed the glory of seasons and the fall of time. The color of Nothingness wasn’t a bright red or a dark yellow. It was a shade people either neglected or stared at, keeping time as the sole witness. It had been caressed lovingly and it had been captured in memories. It had felt the blows of winds and the sobriety of the breeze. It had laughed the best laughs of joy and felt seen with the presence of dew drops. The grandeur of being in a well-manicured garden made it feel warm and admirable. What happened that it spoke otherwise of love?

What broken promises fell with its kneeling to the ground? Was it a kiss to the roots for holding it so lovingly or an act of revenge for the death?

Time stopped by. It was raining as if it had never rained. The sky was weeping inconsolable, it seemed. The soil was making room for burial. As this scene unfolded, somewhere a bee had broken its wing. Witnessing this scene, made her touch the broken wing and sigh with pain that could shatter the strongest of humans.  The bee was called Grace. Grace and Nothingness were friends, it seemed. Or was something else brewing between them? Is dying together a promise as strong as living together is? Do friends tell each other that they want to not only live together but die together too?

What makes promises strong or fragile?

The bee retreated to a dark place. Away from the company of flowers and fragrances. Something flashed in front of her eyes. A petal. A color. A memory. A time. Gone days. Gone days of companionship.

Is dying betraying those who love you and seek your company? But, you never choose to die. You just die. Sometimes silently. Sometimes helplessly. Sometimes with a smile. And, other times with a tear for life, your loved ones and the days they have to live your loss.

Grace took some honey from one of the pots and wrote:

‘Love always holds, and makes space for more. It’s a vessel that even after overflowing supports whatever it touches. It’s a rejuvenation of everything that exists. It touches nature and people alike. It’s a breath for life.’

Grace couldn’t write more about love that day. She paused and left the spot. She was overcome by a sense of betrayal. For, that day Grace had promised Nothingness that they will meet and that it will be their special companionship day but either time or Nothingness or maybe circumstances betrayed both.

Does love fall to pieces because people fail to regard it, and honor its beauty? Or love that fails to pieces isn’t love at all?

As Grace went outside, someone was waiting for her to leave. A sinister smile lit up the dark space. The piece for love caught its attention. Laughing like a born evil, it took some coal from the fireplace and tried to rub it off hurriedly. It’s hate that makes people rub the traces of love, after all. Hate for love and those who believe in love. The character’s name rightly was ‘Abhor.’ Abhor belonged to the family of aphids. Perhaps there was a history of revenge. Revenge eats at the beautiful creations, alike. Less or more, but it ruins whosoever feeds on it and lets it survive.

Grace was numb. It’s as if a knife was inside it, tearing it apart, the moment it wanted to heal and breathe. Death, loss, betrayal – these emotions weigh you down. They pluck the petals of your sanity and drag you to the darkest places in your mind.

‘Gracccyyyyyyy’ , a cute moth appeared from somewhere. Looking at Grace made the moth feel nervous. ‘Grracy, Graccy’ , the cute moth named Merry screamed and pushed Grace. Grace was quiet as the sky after it rains heavily for days together.  The kind of quietness that is scary, chilling, and horrifying. As if something untoward is waiting to happen. Impatiently. That day, Grace didn’t speak a word, didn’t buzz or yell in happiness. Grace became silence. Grace was consumed by silence. The answer to love always isn’t love. Sometimes, it’s never-ending grief that consumes you, bit by bit. Merry didn’t leave Grace alone. They shared quietness. They spoke in silence. That was friendship. Where words didn’t need to be exchanged to share what you feel. Where silence could reflect the pain tearing you apart. Where just presence can weigh more than words and assurance.

Abhor left silently, with a smirk. No one knew what Abhor wanted out of life. Grace and Merry went inside, and Merry lit the fire. Overcome with unwanted loneliness but warmed by the friendship of Merry, Grace didn’t know what to do with the pain and loss. The grief made her dizzy.

Days passed by, and Gracy felt devoid of any emotion. Suddenly, she thought of the piece on love. As she went to re-read it, she was shocked to see pieces of coal and attempts at rubbing love. After days of numbness, she was overcome by a strange sense of revenge. ‘Who hates love so much as to erase its all imprints?’

She went to her favorite place where Nothingness welcomed her. Where she was welcome, seen, and heard. Looking at that place made her yell in pain and cry so loudly that the skies jerked.

Moving forward with the last bit of courage, she looked at the remains of love. She sensed how certain questions never come with answers.

Was it Nothingness who chose it? Or the one who rubbed the piece on the love that did it?

Questions haunt you for life. Love isn’t always about a happy ending. What remains are the memories that warm you up and tear at you as begin to heal.

The scent of the place, people, and memories never fade. It’s perhaps your final takeaway of loving and being loved. Hate, revenge, and betrayal are not inherent. But, they can destroy who we are and what we love.

Grace becomes Nothingness. Merry sits by the side of Grace. Abhor never knows love.

Absence eats at presence. The presence of love makes you belong.