He never gave up on her.
She never gave up on him.
It’d be better if it was a story of two people instead of three.
He gathered courage, they met finally. He carried a ring, and she, her wedding card.
Turmeric on her hands, and a slit on his wrist. Every morning he promised himself to let her go. Every night it was his pen, paper and her, again.
Finally he rested his pen, took one last look at her wedding photo and jumped out of the window. “Falling for you, once again.”, the suicide note read.