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It was back in 2019 when this chapter of my life began. I had gone to Sankha Park with my friends, and we spent the whole day laughing, exploring, and capturing memories. Later that evening, I uploaded some photos of our outing on social media.
Among those who saw the pictures was a lady from my church. I had known her from before, but we had never really spoken much. That night, out of the blue, she sent me a message:
“You could have invited me too.”
I was surprised. She was someone quiet and reserved, and this was the first time she had messaged me. From that moment, things began to change. She gave me her number, and soon we were calling, texting, and sharing our hearts. Without realizing it, we grew closer day by day.
She was part of my church family, so our bond felt even more meaningful. Whenever we met—whether at a park, over coffee, or even for a movie—we kept Christ at the center of our relationship. Those were beautiful days filled with joy, prayer, and companionship.
The Struggles
But life isn’t always simple. She had already finished her bachelor’s degree and lived near Sankha Park. When the pandemic struck, things began to shift. A gap started forming between us. She moved in with her family, and naturally, communication became harder. She asked me not to message or call unless she reached out first. Our conversations slowly became less frequent.
Still, we tried to hold on. We met sometimes, talked, prayed, and shared our hearts. Yet, deep inside, I always carried a fear. She came from a higher social and family background than me, and I often wondered if that difference would stand in the way of our future.
Whenever she was with her family—whether at church or somewhere else—she often acted as though she didn’t even recognize me. I understood her reasons, but deep inside, it was painful. It felt like we had to hide what was real.
Despite this, I still hoped. I prayed and believed that maybe, somehow, God would make a way.
One day, she sent me a message that shook me:
“What are your plans for the next two years? I need to decide because I’m planning to go abroad, and marriage might be there—I don’t know with whom.”
I was speechless. Soon after, she told me we should stop meeting the way we used to and remain only as friends. My heart sank, but I had no choice except to accept her decision.
The Turning Point
She later applied for a student visa to the U.S. (F1), and by God’s grace, her visa was approved. I was happy for her, even though deep down, I knew it meant there was no future for us.
Before she left Nepal, I still hoped for one last moment to talk with her. On the last Saturday fellowship at church, after the first service, I went near her hoping to speak. But she was busy talking with others. Maybe she noticed me, maybe she didn’t—but she didn’t speak to me. Feeling heavy inside, I quietly left for the office.
On the way, I didn’t realize she had actually tried to call me. By the time I reached the office, I saw her missed call and sent her a message. That small missed connection felt like a reflection of our entire story—so close, yet still apart.
I prayed often, sometimes in tears: “Lord, if this is not Your will, please give me strength. If it is Your will, please show me the way
After she left Nepal, she called me one last time and said:
“Please don’t wait for me. God has someone planned for you, and for me too. Let’s keep each other in prayer.”
Her words were painful, but they carried truth.
After she left, we occasionally exchanged casual messages, but it was nothing like before. Eventually, I deactivated all my social media accounts, unable to bear the constant reminders of her.
One day, a friend sent me a photo of her engagement abroad. My heart broke all over again. She later got married to a foreign guy, and that was the final closure of our story.
Healing and Moving Forward
It was hard—very hard. I cried in silence, hiding my pain from friends. But through it all, God held me together. His love was the anchor of my healing. Slowly, I found strength again. After a year, I reactivated my social media and began to move forward.
Today, when I look back, I don’t see just pain—I see blessings. I see how God used that season to make me stronger, to teach me trust, and to prepare me for the future.
To her, if these words ever reach:
“You are a wonderful woman, full of grace and strength. May God continue to take you higher and bless your life abundantly. The happiness you once shared with me will always remain a blessing in my heart. Thank you for the beautiful memories.”
God bless you more.
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