Sparks and Silence: The Trailer

A not-so-typical love story (or is it?)

Let’s start somewhere unexpected. Not with violins. Not with fairy lights or slow-motion stares across the room.

Let’s start with the noise.

Bass drops. Strobe lights. Laughter, booze and dance. And a lot of people trying way too hard to have a good time.

It was one of those nights.

The kind where you go out not expecting anything special, but the universe rolls its eyes and whispers, “Watch this.”

There we were, two strangers in the same city, same space, breathing the same smoky air, holding completely different stories.We didn’t crash into each other. We just, clicked. A simple touché conversation. That’s all it took. Nothing overly poetic. Nothing rehearsed. Just easy, honest, slightly awkward, and unexpectedly magnetic. The kind of moment you don’t realize is going to matter, until it does. And then, like in every good plot twist, we parted ways. No dramatic goodbyes. No promises. Just that weird little spark that clings to your skin after a moment that feels slightly more significant than it should’ve been. But life, in all its cheeky brilliance, wasn’t done with us. Because guess what? The night wasn’t over. And neither was the story.

What followed were eight golden months.

The kind of chapter you want to frame in your mind and replay on rainy evenings.

We shared so much more than time, we shared a life. There were date nights that stretched into sunrises. Rainy evenings tangled in each other under shared blankets. Laughter in cafes. Whispered dreams in the dark. Soft kisses between chapters of textbooks. Wild, raw, soul-baring love-making, the kind that feels like both a question and an answer.

It was messy. Beautiful. Intense.

We studied. We grew. We touched each other’s minds just as deeply as we touched each other’s bodies. It was the kind of love that made everything before it feel like a rehearsal.

But then something happened.

Something we never saw coming.

Something so frightening, so shaking, that it split the story into two halves: the before and the after.

Now, hold on, we’re not going to spill it all here. Not yet. Because this part of the story deserves a spotlight of its own.

But what we will say is, it changed everything. The way we saw each other. The way we held each other. The way we fought for us. And just when we were barely catching our breath, life threw in another twist: Distance.

A new city. A new timezone. And suddenly, our love had to stretch itself across calls, texts, and hope.

Sounds like a movie, right?

Too perfect to be real, until it isn’t.

Because every spark has shadows.

And every silence holds something sacred, or something secret.

So let’s go back to the beginning. No, not that club night. I mean the real beginning.

Because to truly understand our love story, you need to know us.

Not by name, but by everything else. Who we were. What we believed. What broke us. And what rebuilt us.

(All names, places, and timelines are changed, of course, this isn’t about facts. This is about truth.)

So take a deep breath. Grab a coffee and popcorn. ( because trust me it’s going to be a better than a movie) 

And get ready.

Because the next blog?

That’s where it all really begins.

You think you’ve heard love stories before? This one might just undo you.