In the Silence of the Morning

The first light of dawn broke through the clouds, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink. Birds sang their gentle songs, and the breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers blooming along the riverside.

Amit walked alone down the familiar forest path, his boots brushing the dew-covered grass. Every step he took brought back memories—of her.

She loved mornings like this.
She would wake him up early, drag him to the riverside, and sit on the old stone beneath the big tree. She’d laugh, toss pebbles into the water, and talk about dreams, love, and life.

Now, there was only silence.

The river still flowed. The sun still rose. The world remained beautiful.
But without her, everything felt hollow.

He reached the stone. It was still there, untouched. A few wildflowers had grown around it, as if nature itself was trying to comfort the emptiness.

Amit sat down slowly. He pulled out a small photo from his wallet—a picture of her, smiling, with sunlight in her eyes.

"I miss you," he whispered. "Every morning. Every breath."

Just then, a butterfly fluttered near him and landed gently on the photo. He smiled faintly, eyes misty.

Maybe she was listening.
Maybe the wind that touched his face was her whisper.
Maybe, just maybe, the morning wasn’t completely empty.

He placed the photo and a wildflower on the stone, stood up, and walked away.

The sun rose a little higher.
And somewhere, hidden in the breeze, was a promise:
Love never really leaves. It lives quietly in the beauty of the morning.