My blank love - My blank love Part-27

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☕ "Silent Questions — and an Untold Evening"

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The next few days in the bakery felt just like the weather — cold, yet with a hidden trace of warmth somewhere deep inside.

Ehsan came every day, sat in his usual seat by the window, and sometimes looked through his camera, sometimes read a book, sometimes just gazed outside at the falling snow.

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Zoboria had started talking to him a little more now.

But still, some of her answers were incomplete — like reading a page torn out from the middle of a book.

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📜 "A Piece of Paper"

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One afternoon, when the bakery was empty, Ehsan tore a small piece of paper from his diary and wrote something on it.

He placed it under the coffee cup.

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When Zoboria came to take the cup away, her fingers felt the paper.

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On it, only this was written—

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> "Sometimes we don’t go looking for someone,

we just hope… they find us."

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Zoboria folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket. She said nothing.

But that night, when she got home, she placed that little note under her pillow.

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🌙 "A Cold Night in Canada — and a Restless Heart in India"

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That same night, thousands of miles away, Abuzarr was pacing in his room.

He checked the likes and comments on his post — there was a new name among them.

"ehsan.lens"

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Abuzarr opened the profile.

There were pictures of bakeries, coffee, snow, and windows.

In some photos, the shadowy outline of a woman could be faintly seen… and Abuzarr’s heart skipped a strange beat.

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> "Could this… be her?"

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"A Bridge — Slowly Forming"

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The following week, Ehsan posted a new photo on Instagram —

Zoboria, sitting by the window, slightly blurred, a faint smile on her face, a cup in her hands.

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The caption read—

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> "Some people are like winter sunlight… rare, but warm."

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Abuzarr opened that photo again and again.

He zoomed in.

From his lips, only one name escaped—

"Zuboo…"

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"An Evening — When Everything Could Change"

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Next time Ehsan came to the bakery, he had a small envelope in his hand.

He sat at the table, quiet until the coffee arrived.

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When Zoboria placed the cup down and was about to leave, Ehsan gently held out the envelope.

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> "This isn’t for you… it’s for someone dear to you.

If you wish… you can give it to them."

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Zoboria looked at him in surprise and took the envelope.

On it, only two words were written—

"For Zuboo"

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"The Envelope — She Couldn’t Bring Herself to Open"

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That evening, after the bakery closed,

Zoboria returned to her small apartment.

In her hands was that light, yet strangely heavy, envelope.

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She took off her coat, placed her shoes by the door,

and sat on the couch just staring at it.

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The two words on the paper — "For Zuboo" —

seemed to sink deep into her soul.

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> "Who… has spoken this name after so many years?"

she whispered under her breath.

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🌙 "A Night Longer Than Sleep"

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The silence of the night,

the soft hum of the heater,

and that envelope on the table —

none of it let her rest.

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Many times she reached for it,

only to pull her hand back.

As if opening it would break down the door to her past right in front of her.

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Finally, she opened it slowly.

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📜 "Abuzarr’s Letter"

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Inside was an old, handwritten letter —

the ink a little faded, but every word felt like it carried someone’s breath.

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> *"Zuboo,

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I don’t know where you are.

I only know you’re still somewhere…

and maybe, you can still hear my silences.

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This city, these streets, without you,

are like a book without its last page.

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I tried to forget you,

but every attempt only wrote you deeper inside me.

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If this letter finds you —

know that I’m still here.

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— Abuzarr"*

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Zoboria’s fingers trembled.

Her eyes brimmed with tears,

but no words came to her lips.

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She leaned her head back

and whispered only this to herself—

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> "So… he still…"

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☁️ "Ehsan — A Silent Bridge"

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The next morning, Zoboria saw Ehsan in the bakery.

He was sitting with his camera as always,

but today, there was something like anticipation in his eyes.

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Zoboria said nothing,

only placed a small note beside his cup—

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> "I read it."

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Ehsan looked at the note

and simply lowered his head.

He asked no questions.

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🕰️ "Will Abuzarr and Zoboria Meet?"

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That night, Ehsan typed a message to Abuzarr on Instagram—

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> "She read it."

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Abuzarr’s reply was only one word—

"Where?"

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Ehsan typed a reply,

but before sending, he stopped.

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☕ "The Words That Had to Be Said"

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The next day, Ehsan came to Zoboria a little earlier than usual.

When she saw him, she smiled.

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She brought his favourite coffee.

"Only for you," she said, handing him the cup.

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Ehsan traced the rim of the cup with his fingers,

and for a few moments, just looked at her in silence.

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There was a strange mixture in his eyes —

as if something had been locked in his chest for days,

and now it was demanding to come out.

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> "Zuboo…"

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Zoboria’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.

She lowered her gaze,

but her breathing grew heavier in that moment.

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> "The letter I gave you last night…

It’s not from someone else,

it’s from your past."

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Zoboria lifted her head —

there was fear in her eyes,

but also a strange, unfamiliar hope.

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> "That letter… is from Abuzarr,

and I… met him.

Or rather…

he found me — through you."

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🕯️ "Zoboria’s Silence"

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Zoboria placed her hands on the table,

her fingers tightly interlocked.

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Her lips parted,

but no words came out.

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For a few moments, only her eyes spoke —

carrying both questions

and the sting of old memories.

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> "He… still?"

That was all she could manage to ask.

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Ehsan nodded.

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> "Yes.

And he wants to know… where you are."

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🌙 "A Choice — Not an Easy One"

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Zoboria took a deep breath.

Outside the window, snow was falling,

but inside her heart, the old rain had returned.

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> "I don’t know…

if meeting him would be right for me or not."

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Her voice carried both weariness

and fear.

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Ehsan set his cup aside

and said only this—

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> "I will never make that choice for you, Zuboo.

But I promise…

whatever path you choose,

I’ll walk it with you."

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