Love doesn’t always end with a goodbye.
Sometimes it dies quietly… inside us, long before we realise it.
A Broken Love Story Told in 8 Parts
—By A. B. M. Khorsheduzzaman
Author’s Note
1994
I was in Class Ten.
That was when I first read a poem by Jibanananda Das—”Twenty Years Later.”
After reading it, a quiet question took shape within me —
Does love remain the same after twenty years?
Back then, I had no answer.
There was only imagination —
and an invisible waiting, slowly gathering over time.
Then life moved on in its own way.
Relationships changed, feelings shifted,
and the person within me changed, little by little.
Exactly twenty years later, in 2014 —
I suddenly felt
That old question was still there inside me.
Not just as a question —
but as an unfinished feeling.
“The Death of a Lover”
It is an attempt to answer that question.
And now, in 2026 —
It feels as though that search has finally reached its end.
In this novel, I did not look for a romantic reunion —
Instead, I tried to see
What happens to love as time passes?
I have seen —
people continue to live, relationships continue to exist, responsibilities go on —
but at some point, very quietly,
The “lover” within a person begins to change.
This story is about that change.
Not a loud breaking —
but a silent realisation.
Perhaps —
Not all love comes to an end.
Some love changes its form.
And some —
fade away without making a sound.
“The Death of a Lover”
It is the story of that silent transformation.
Now, let us start —
The Death of a Lover
— A. B. M. Khorsheduzzaman
***Life has passed—twenty, twenty years between us —
What if we meet again, after all this time?”***
— Jibanananda Das
Chapter 1
“She never really broke —
She only arranged herself in such a way
that no one could hear the sound of her breaking.”**
# *Twenty Years Later*
The evening light feels a little different today.
The sun is slowly setting —
Its last rays fall on the grey concrete of the metro station.
I am standing at Farmgate station.
At this hour,
The station feels like a moving sea of people.
People coming, going —
some with tired eyes, some in a rush,
Some carry nothing but the weight of living.
The platform is already full —
crowded with waiting bodies.
The chance of getting a seat is almost none.
Still, everyone waits.
To reach somewhere.
I am standing here,
but it feels like I am not going anywhere.
Then —
a familiar face.
I kept looking for a moment.
Known…
Yet covered in the dust of time.
I steadied myself and slowly walked towards him.
— “Hey… you here?”
He paused. Looked at me.
Surprise in his eyes.
— “Sumona… you?”
One second.
Two seconds.
Time stood still.
— “How are you?” I asked.
He smiled faintly.
— “Good… you?”
— “Good…”
Simple words.
But —
Inside them lay twenty years of silence.
We both knew — this was not just a meeting.
This was facing time itself.
And just like that —
after twenty years —
I met Rahat again.
I remember clearly —
just before my marriage,
Rahat’s family had left our neighbourhood.
After that…
Time moved on.
Marriage, responsibilities,
days and nights blending into each other.
And just last month —
I celebrated my twentieth wedding anniversary.
So the calculation cannot be wrong.
After exactly twenty years —
I am standing in front of Rahat again.
He loved me since high school —
I knew it.
In his eyes, in his behaviour,
in his sincerity —
It was always there.
But he never said it. Not once.
And me?
I did not love him.
It was simple —
one-sided love.
Where one drowns,
and the other only watches.
I didn’t dislike him —
He was a good student, a good person.
As a friend — yes.
But love?
No —
That feeling never grew in me.
I was made differently.
More practical. Focused.
And most importantly —
I believed in financial independence.
Among friends,
Love felt like a distraction to me.
While they dreamed —
I calculated.
How to move forward,
How to reach something better, more stable.
Not emotion —
I believed in reality.
Not love —
I looked for security.
Love…
That would come eventually, I thought.
There was a reason behind this thinking.
A personal one.
My parents —
They had married for love.
But that love
was not strong enough.
My father struggled financially.
And I saw my mother —
silently giving up her wishes, one by one.
Her desires, her happiness —
slowly fading under the weight of life.
As time passed —
Their differences grew.
Arguments, silence,
unspoken distance —
Somewhere along the way,
Their love got lost.
Maybe that is why —
I never wanted to trap myself
inside that familiar cage of love.
The metro arrived with a loud rush.
A restless wave spread through the crowd.
People pushed forward —
And we were no different.
Through the chaos,
We somehow got inside a carriage.
It was crowded.
Almost no space to breathe.
And in that crowd —
We stood.
Face to face. Close. Very close.
But —
no words.
Only occasional jolts
bringing us physically closer —
Yet the distance of twenty years
remained untouched.
At Mirpur, some people got off.
The crowd eased slightly.
Rahat took the chance —
and managed to get me a seat.
I sat down.
He stood beside me.
No excess effort,
no unnecessary closeness —
Just a quiet care.
We learned in bits —
He too was heading towards Uttara.
Same path —
different lives.
His car was parked near North Station.
A white Hyundai Creta.
He said softly —
“Where are you going? I can drop you.”
I didn’t refuse.
I sat beside him.
The metro line ran above us —
pillars standing silently
in the middle of the city’s noise.
Inside the car —
a calm, controlled space.
I looked at him —
He was driving quietly.
And suddenly,
A memory returned.
Back in college —
I used to get marriage proposals often.
One of them —
An aeronautical engineer
based in the USA. And his family lives in Dhaka.
I had no objection.
I was ready.
One day, I told my mother —
“After my marriage,
When we live in Dhaka,
Rahat will visit us with his family.”
He was sitting right there.
Maybe I said it
to tease him.
My mother laughed —
“Of course he will.
And one day, he’ll have a car too.”
That day —
I said it casually.
Without belief.
Without depth.
Just a hint of arrogance.
Because —
I knew I would marry someone else.
And that truth
was not easy for him.
I saw it in his face.
But today?
I am sitting beside him.
In his car.
Perhaps —
This is what silent revenge of fate feels like.
Does he remember that day?
Should I feel embarrassed?
Or has time erased even that?
I found no answer.
I looked outside.
The city moved endlessly.
Traffic, noise —
everything alive.
But inside —
I felt distant.
He spoke —
bringing me back.
-“Shopping from Bashundhara City?
For your son?”
I was surprised.
“How did you guess?”
He smiled.
“Young boys prefer shopping there.”
Then added —
“Where is he now? USA? Germany?”
I stared.
“How do you know about Arnab?”
“I don’t. Just guessed.”
I stayed silent.
Then he explained —
“Naval architecture students usually go there.”
I nodded slowly.
“Yes… He’s in Germany.”
But my mind was elsewhere.
How could he still
connect the scattered details of my life
So accurately?
I changed the topic.
“What do you do now?”
He smiled.
“I’m a country head of a China-based company.”
“Impressive.”
“Denim fabrics. Factory in Guangzhou.”
His voice was steady. Confident.
Something about it —
created a quiet irritation inside me.
Maybe envy.
He dropped me in front of my house.
“Come upstairs?” I asked.
He smiled.
“Not today.”
Simple words.
But with distance.
I asked for his number.
Saved it.
He left.
The car moved away.
slowly disappearing.
I stood there.
As if something
was left behind.
Or something
was lost.
The city continued.
Only I stood still.
Later, I realised —
I didn’t even ask about his family.
We talked —
Yet, said nothing.
The most familiar person —
now a stranger.
Evening settled.
The lights came on.
The city breathed again.
I closed my eyes.
And remembered —
“What if we meet again after twenty years?”
Yes —
We did meet.
But —
Was that the same person?
Or —
Were we just standing silently
beside the shadows of our past?
Maybe —
some stories
Never begin.
And so —
We never became
part of each other’s story.
………………………………………..
To be continued…
Chapter 2
The Beginning of Discomfort
is coming soon…
“Love is silent, but it speaks the loudest.”
— Khorsed Zaman
Do you agree with me?
I’d love to hear your opinion.
📌 Chapter Review Series
Dear Readers,
From now on, after finishing each chapter of the novel, I will share a short review and reflection on it from a reader’s perspective.
This is not another part of the story itself.
It is a closer look at the writing — the emotions, structure, characters, and the thoughts behind the chapter.
My daughter Tahiya, who is always the first reader of my work, also shared her honest opinions and suggestions. I have also listened to different outside perspectives, including detailed literary observations from my online critic professor.
Some agreed with the writing, some questioned parts of it, and some explored deeper meanings I had not even noticed myself.
I felt these discussions were worth sharing.
This series is for readers, writers, and anyone interested in the journey of storytelling and creative writing. You are warmly welcome to share your own opinions as well — whether you agree with the review or see the chapter differently.
Writing becomes more meaningful when readers join the conversation.
Sometimes we do not truly examine our own writing until we step back and look at it from a distance.
And perhaps that is where real learning begins.