There he was — tall, handsome, composed. Impossible to miss. The kind of man who stood out in any crowd — a Greek god, or maybe a Hindu one, given where we were.

A temple wasn’t exactly where I’d imagined running into him again; surrounded by bhajans, mantras, and the hypnotic smoke of incense.

But life rarely asks for our opinion, does it?

For all the admiration still flickering somewhere deep inside, I hadn’t wanted to see him — not tonight, not ever. This was the man who had broken my heart a year ago. The way he cast me out could have been legend — the way Rāma let go of Sītā.

How do men do that? One day, they promise to love you beyond measure; the next, they vanish with a single line — I don’t trust you anymore.

Overnight. Just like that. Because someone whispered I’d lied, even when I was still trying to understand my own truth.

A liar — that’s what he thought I was.

And now, here he is — in my favorite temple, on the eve of a festival I love. Diwali was supposed to begin with light, not with ghosts from the past.

Definitely not with me standing face-to-face with an ex. Wait. What are we even now? Former lovers? Strangers who still know too much about each other? Or lovers, simply taking time off?

“Happy Diwali,” he said softly, breaking through my haze.

“Oh… hi. Happy Diwali,” I managed, eyes darting around the room — anywhere but at him.

He turned, the half-smile fading. For a moment, I thought of slipping away — letting the moment dissolve like a bad memory.

“Sweets?” he asked suddenly. The word dropped between us like a stone into still water.

“Thanks… I’m on a diet.”

“It’s Diwali,” he said, smiling faintly as he thrust a box of ladoos into my hand.

I nodded a quick thanks and turned toward the door.

“Want to talk?”

“About what?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed ahead. Deep breath. Count to ten. Don’t lose your temper, my mind whispered.

“About how beautiful you look,” he said quietly. “About how sweet you’ve always been. About how big an idiot I was to let you go.”

He didn’t pause between words — as if stopping would mean losing his nerve.

“All this in a… chance meeting? Really?”

“Have you ever seen me in this temple before?” He paused. “I came to see you — only you.”

“One year — ” Tears welled and spilled before I could stop them.

“One long year,” he said softly. “I needed it, my love — time for a fool to learn not to trust others over his own heart.”

A slow, confused shake of the head was all I could manage. I wasn’t ready for another round of it — the chase, the charm, the heartbreak that followed. I’d had enough of this man who could make me fall head over heels one moment and push me aside the next.

Somewhere along the way, he’d made me lose faith in love itself.

“Please…” he said, his voice trembling as he opened his hand. A ring glinted softly in the temple light. “After this,” he murmured, “I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

I just stared — at him, at the ring, at the impossible thing unfolding in front of me.

“My love… this life means nothing without you,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “Will you marry me?”

For a heartbeat, the world went silent. My eyes lifted to the idol of Vishnu, the golden light from the shrine reflecting off the ring in his trembling hand. Somewhere above, the temple bells rang.

“Maybe in a year,” I smiled.

A story by Sri Devi Om.