The theory of nevermore

There is a theory called “The Last Encounter.” They say that when two people who loved each other deeply end their cycle and learn what they needed from one another, the universe ensures they never meet again. Not out of cruelty, but because that chapter has served its purpose. And moving forward demands absence.

Sometimes I think about this, lying alone in the bed where she used to sleep. The sheet that no longer pulls to my side. The silence where laughter once lived. The absence where an embrace once was. The theory makes sense, but my heart cannot accept it so easily. I know we ended for reasons that love alone may not be able to mend. I changed. She couldn’t keep up with me. But what destroys me is the thought that the universe may have truly sealed this goodbye. As if it had said: enough. You’ve both learned what you needed to. Now each of you is on her own.

And still, I long. Not for a fresh start. Not to undo what has been done. But for that last encounter. The one that comes after the pain, when eyes recognize each other in a different way. Without promises, without desperate attempts to go back. Just the clear gaze of two people who loved each other and now know they will carry on in peace. I dream of this. Of seeing her one more time. Of hearing her voice without it hurting me. Of knowing she is well. That I am well. That the love was real, even if it was never meant to be forever.

If it is true that the universe forbids it, then perhaps it really is better this way. Perhaps meeting her again would be like reopening a wound already trying to heal. But as long as I breathe, as long as I carry the name that is mine and the body I finally inhabit in peace, a part of me still holds hope. A quiet hope, without fanfare. The hope that one day, by chance or by miracle, our souls will cross paths again. Even if only to say goodbye with a smile.