Even after the tears dried, you lingered like a ghost. I saw your face in strangers, heard your name in passing, and felt your absence in places we used to go. I wondered if you missed me too, or if I was the only one haunted by a love that refused to die. I carried your ghost with me, a quiet presence that faded but never fully disappeared. You became a lesson, a chapter in my life that shaped me, but didn’t define me. And slowly, I made peace with the fact that some love stories don’t last forever — but that doesn’t mean they weren’t real. The truth is, I never stopped loving you. But I learned that love doesn’t always mean holding on — sometimes, it means wishing someone well from a distance.