The waves of love in my life

Mira stared at the blank document on her laptop.

Untitled.

Her fingers hovered, unsure where to begin. She'd written dozens of articles, poems, and letters. But this felt different.

This wasn't for a blog.

This wasn't for healing, or apology, or closure.

This memoir was for her younger self—and for every other girl who thought they had to shatter in silence.

She typed slowly, the first lines coming like breath:

There was a time when I thought my story ended at seventeen.

But I was wrong.

That was only where the silence ended—and the fight began.

The words came in pieces. Not chronological. Not neat.

They came in memories.

[Flashback – 15 years old]

Sneaking out of her house with her brother, J. He dared her to climb trees, scream at the sky, throw poems into the wind.

She felt fearless then.

She forgot that version of herself even existed.

[Flashback – 18 years old]

The day she lost her college acceptance.

Not because of grades.

Because she didn't show up to the interview—she was in a psych ward, her hands shaking, her heart louder than her voice.

She had buried that memory like it was something shameful.

Now, she dug it up like a seed ready to bloom.

By noon, Aaron returned from the store and found her still typing, eyes bright, pages filling up.

"You're in it," he smiled.

"I think this is the first thing I've written for me," Mira said. "No masks. No metaphors."

He sat beside her, reading silently over her shoulder.

"You should title it," he said softly. "Right now. Before fear makes you close it."

She looked at the screen, blinking. Then, slowly, she typed:

The Fall I Survived

Aaron kissed her temple. "Perfect."

Meanwhile, across the city, Lena stood outside an old community center—heart thudding like she was sixteen again.

She hadn't told Mira. Not yet.

Inside that building was someone from her past—someone who knew the version of Lena who was always the caregiver, always the savior. Someone who once made her believe she was only worth love if she was needed.

But Lena wasn't that girl anymore either.

And as she stepped through the doors, a voice called out:

"Lena?"

She turned. And for the first time in years… smiled.