Another work of fiction
Give credit if ever this is adapted into a screenplay for real.Maybe commercialise the emotions and let them feel the economics..atleast that would be real.
The world is a stage and each person unique character! Just build your own storyline...........
They met in a temple, among many others just like them—each carrying silent prayers, each lost in their own quiet seeking. The air was still, filled with devotion, with something unseen yet deeply felt.
It happened simply.
A shared
glance across the crowd.
A pause—just a second too long.
Something unspoken passed between them—soft, fleeting, almost invisible—like a
prayer that had not yet found its words.
But he thought he loved someone else.
And she believed her heart already belonged elsewhere.
So they let the moment pass.
Life moved on, as it always does—They walked different paths, built separate worlds, and meet people who were never meant to keep them- Some called it love but she felt it was just a password to gain access to their inner world.
Anyway:
Sometimes, they crossed paths again.
A stranger in
a crowd who felt oddly familiar.
A fleeting presence that stirred something they couldn’t name.
But they never truly saw each other.
It was as if they were wallpaper in each other’s lives—there in fleeting moments, but never noticed. Perhaps they even avoided one another, drawn by something they didn’t understand and quietly unsettled by it.
She felt an unexplainable anger she couldn’t place, and so she kept her distance. He, in turn, dismissed her presence just as instinctively, ignoring her without reason, as if she did not matter at all.
And so, they remained strangers still.
Years years and years passed by—not loudly, but steadily, shaping them in ways they didn’t realize.
He lost what he once called timeless love.
She outgrew what she once believed in……
When they met
again, something had shifted. They were now 80 year olds! Maybe this is called the graveyard shift ;)
This time, they truly saw each other—not as strangers, but as something quietly
familiar.
No sudden spark, only a gentle recognition—like dawn, soft and certain in its ways.
Without
needing to search, he felt he had found.
And she understood, without doubt, that everything before had only been leading
her here.
Divine love does not force itself into unready hearts.
It waits.
It allows
distance.
It allows mistakes.
It lets time do its quiet work, shaping two souls until they can truly
recognize what stands before them.
And when it finally unfolds, it does not announce itself—
it simply makes visible what had always been, waiting to be seen.
Later, they would wonder how many times they had crossed paths without knowing. How many moments had slipped quietly between them.
But there was no regret.
Because divine love had never been lost.
It had only been waiting—for them to find their way back to it.
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