By: Ameer Ali
There was a moment when time forgot us, when days passed without meaning and nights blended into one long silence. We existed in pauses, in memories that refused to fade and futures that would not arrive. Time moved forward for everyone else, but for us it hesitated, uncertain of what to do with our waiting. In that forgotten space, love aged quietly, learning patience the hard way. Laughter echoed only in recollection, and hope survived in small, stubborn forms. We learned to live with absence as if it were a companion, familiar and heavy. Yet even when time seemed careless, it was teaching us endurance. Being forgotten did not erase us; it reshaped us. When time finally remembered, it found us changed but standing, carrying scars like proof of survival. And perhaps that was the lesson—that even when time forgets, the heart remembers, and remembering is its own quiet victory.
