In the heart of Mumbai,Aarav, a young poet with an ever-searching heart, sat by his window. Every morning, the dawn light would wash over his cluttered desk, illuminating the pages filled with verses of longing and love. Today was no different. Aarav reached for his pen, the ink flowing effortlessly as memories of Meera, his lost love, filled his thoughts. "Every morning when your memory comes to me," he whispered to himself, feeling the familiar ache that these reflections brought. "The heart insists that you are the essence of my life."

Aarav let his mind wander back to days spent in carefree joy. He could almost hear Meera's laughter echoing through the rain-drenched streets they used to roam. Her presence was as vivid as the photograph, capturing a moment frozen in time. "If one must love, let it be from the soul," he mused, remembering how genuine and profound their connection had been, transcending the superficial.

Without Meera, everything felt incomplete. Aarav likened it to a world without rain or nights without the moon. "This world feels incomplete without you, like rain without drops, like the moon without nights," he murmured, his heart heavy with the weight of solitude.