But somewhere - in the silence of the room, among the smell of her perfume, forgotten mugs and unspoken words - he sits. The man for whom she was not just a woman, but his entire personal world. His air, his meaning, his morning light and evening shadow.
And then something happens that no one sees
The heart stops.
No, not literally. It continues to beat - but differently. An emptiness appears in it. A thin, but deep crack. He still lives - but does not breathe the same way. Does not laugh like that. He doesn't look at other women because he doesn't want to compare - he knows that he can't compare.
He can be silent. Work. Go shopping. Answer "normally" to the question "How are you?" But one detail - her absence - changes everything. For him.
The irony of love
The world is indifferent. He doesn't notice her disappearance. But love is not indifferent.
Love is always a story of two, not millions.
She was "just one woman." And for him - the only one. And this is not about tragedy. This is about the power of affection. About that rare depth of feelings that makes one person a whole universe.
And her loss is the end of this universe.
The world will not stop. But in someone's heart there will be silence.
And maybe this silence is the loudest cry of love.