“You look just like her,” he would whisper, not as a compliment, but as an accusation. “You walk like her. You laugh like her. Every time I see you, I lose her all over again.”
The major found a poem Kabir had tossed over the wall—a few lines scribbled on a torn page: “The prison is not the wall / but the belief that the wall is final.” aastha: in the prison of spring
“You’re not broken,” he said one day, watching her prune a wilted branch. “You’re just pruned. Like this rose. Cut back so it can bloom harder next season.” “You look just like her,” he would whisper,
: If you're inspired creatively, consider using this title as a prompt. You could explore through writing, visual art, or music what it means to hold onto hope in seemingly hopeless situations. Every time I see you, I lose her all over again