Hi again… Still here. Still hoping. Still thinking about how much a single “yes” could mean. There’s something raw about asking someone to spend time with you when you know they’re hurting. It’s like standing outside a closed door with your hand on it, whispering… “I know you don’t want to come out. But if you did — I’d hold the sky up for you today.” This isn’t about distraction. This isn’t me pretending things aren’t hard. I know things are hard. For you, they’re layered in pain — exam, expectations, exhaustion, your mom’s health, the wait, the worry. And through all of it, you’ve held yourself together like a thread holding a thousand beads. I admire you. But even the strongest threads can fray. Even the sun takes breaks behind clouds. And so, I’m still asking… Will you come with me? Not forever. Not for a week. Just a few hours. A chai, a walk, a tiny laugh, a moment. That’s all I ask. No pressure. No schedule. No conversation if you don’t want one. Just… your presence. I will not try to fix your sadness. I won’t ask you to smile. I won’t touch the wounds. I’ll just walk beside you and breathe the same air. Let time pass softer for a while. Will you come with me? Because I know you need space. But sometimes, even space feels warmer when someone sits in the far corner of it — silent, but there. Will you come with me? If it helps, I’ll make a list of all the reasons why: Because you deserve one day without pressure Because no one should carry so much alone Because even a warrior needs a blanket sometimes Because healing doesn’t always come from fighting Because softness is strength too Because I care — and caring is never wasted Will you come with me? I’m not asking you to forget what’s hurting you. I’m not saying a day with me will fix the ache. But maybe… Maybe it will make the ache feel a little less lonely. Will you come with me? Not because you owe me anything. You don’t. But because your heart deserves quiet. And your mind deserves peace. And your soul deserves kindness. I’ve asked this so many times on this page. I’ll keep asking until your heart feels ready to say yes. Because you’re not just a person to me — you’re you. You. The one with fire and tears. The one with strength and softness. The one who stayed up for months reading books no one else even glanced at. The one who quietly worries for her mom but keeps a brave face. The one who gave the world everything, and now just needs someone to say — “Let me give to you.” So once again… Will you come with me? Even if it’s just for an hour. Even if it’s just a walk. Even if it’s just to sit and stare at the sky. Even if it’s just to say nothing at all. I’ll make space for your silence. I’ll wait if you need. I’ll adjust everything. Just let me hold your world gently for a while. Will you come with me? If your answer is “Maybe”… That’s enough. “Maybe” is a seed. I’ll water it with hope. If your answer is “Not now”… That’s okay too. I’ll ask again. Lovingly. Later. But if there’s even a whisper inside you saying “Okay”… Let it grow. Let it be heard.