Someone you once let into your soul cannot simply be driven out.
Even if everything is over.
Even if the conversations have fallen silent.
Even if that person has long since gone their own way.
Inside, there still remains a place where they once sat.
An empty chair.
No one occupies it fully anymore.
You can go on living.
Laughing.
Working.
Building new plans.
Meeting other people.
But sometimes your gaze accidentally falls inward —
and you see that chair.
Not as pain.
Not always as longing.
More as a quiet testimony that someone really was important.
The soul is not a hotel.
You cannot simply evict a person from it if they once became part of your inner space.
You can let go.
You can forgive.
You can stop waiting.
But the empty chair remains.
Not so that you suffer.
But so that you remember: some people do not leave completely.
They simply stop sitting beside us...
