He felt the traces of her gentle light within. The traces she left in him the last time they met. But he also felt her pain — her silent aching that he heard so loudly. He still remembered how she softened beside him. He still remembered her quiet unweighting — as if she could put her burden off, if only for a moment. And he wanted to help her carry that burden. So that she would not have to bear the heaviness of her burden alone. So that she could breathe again — to be able to walk stronger again, without trembling, and to find her own strength to lay her suffering down for good.
So he was walking known and unknown paths, asking villagers and bypassers whether they had heard a trace of her — but no signs of her presence were left. He even turned to the skies to show him the path — but they refused him. All he was left with was just a desperate silence.
After some time, he began to hear small stories — fragments of her presence carried by villagers who had happened to meet her. So he knew their own paths cross each other — only their steps touch the same ground at different times. That gave him at least a bit of inner peace, as he knew her presence was still somewhere close.
But days became weeks. And weeks became months.
He felt like facing an imposing wall. An insurmountable wall. A silent wall that doesn't give answers. Not even an echo…
With passing time, he lost all his strength. He faded — and in the end, he quietly yielded.
And, as he yielded, he understood that he can't fight the wall. That fighting the wall gives the wall a purpose to be. And that if he's truly meant to meet her again — if their paths are to merge again — they will. Not by pulling. Not by pushing. But by being just himself. And that the only thing he can do is to create the space for her — the space that she can step in. One day. When the wall dissolves. When the purpose of the wall becomes obsolete. When the wall loses its meaning. And when the skies allow their paths to merge again.