Eknoor Kaur – Age 17

17 and still learning how much love a heart can hold without breaking.

She’s the kind of girl who stays quiet when she’s hurting, and louder in her prayers than in any crowd.

Her hair — long, black, and flowing all the way down to her lower waist — moves like poetry in the wind. Her eyes? Black with a soft hint of brown — like they’ve seen a thousand stories, but only told a few.

She believes in soulful love. The kind that’s silent…

The kind that watches from afar, cherishes in silence, and never begs to be seen. She’s not dramatic.

She’s detailed. And every detail of her is written in emotions. Eknoor doesn’t chase people. She writes them into her memories — and moves forward, with dignity.

Because even if someone broke her story, she’ll still write the ending with her own hands. Not bitter. Not angry. Just… brave.

Tejveer Singh – Age 18

At 18, he stands tall — literally and figuratively. 6 feet of calm confidence, sharp focus, and quiet charm.

He’s the Head Boy of the school — not just by title, but by respect.

Good in academics, better in sports, and best at keeping his heart hidden behind those deep silences.

Tejveer doesn’t speak much. But when he does, people listen.

He walks like discipline. Talks like responsibility. And still, somewhere in that perfectly built-up world, there's one story he never completed —

Eknoor.

She was his junior.

He was her senior.

Maybe that’s why he never said it then.

But his heart never forgot to write her name… even if only in his own silence. He watched her grow, from afar.

And when she finally moved on — he realized, his story had just begun.

Too late? Maybe. But love doesn’t follow the bell schedule.

And Tejveer Singh…

he’s about to break every rule he once followed — for the girl who unknowingly stole his every “what if.”

She said:

“My biggest regret was choosing to fall in love with a man like you.”

He smiled, leaned closer, and replied:

“Thank you... but I love you too.”

It was raining mercilessly, like the sky itself was breaking with her. She stood in the middle of the empty road, drenched, voice trembling with pain as she shouted:

“Why didn’t you fight for us?”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t blink. Just stared at her — the girl he once called home. And quietly said:

“Because I was the reason we were falling apart.”

She froze. The wind howled, but it was his silence that hurt the most.

“Sometimes, the worst goodbyes are the ones that never got spoken.”