You don’t date. You collect karmic plot twists.

You don’t date. You meet storms. Love doesn’t ask. It just arrives. It doesn’t walk. It crashes in. Eyes meet. Time bends. Souls stir. You feel known. You feel called. It’s familiar—but not safe. It’s warm—but never still. You fall fast. You fall hard. There’s no logic. Only pull. No pause. Just gravity. Vedic astrology calls it karmic. Rahu writes it. Saturn holds it. These bonds burn, then reveal truth.

You dive deep. No surface love. It grips tight. Then unravels slow. It begins sweet. Turns sharp fast. Words fade. Silence thickens. You try holding. It slips through. They charm first. Then withdraw slowly. You explain everything. They answer less. You chase peace. They seek space. Still, you wait. Still, you hope. It’s not love—it’s a lesson. The pattern repeats. The ache deepens. It feels known. It feels ancient.

At first, it glows. Talks stretch endlessly. Eyes linger too long. Everything feels sacred. Then moods change. The warmth cools. Confusion moves in quietly. You stop laughing. You start guessing. You miss before. You want clarity. They don’t speak. They drift off. Rahu builds tension. Saturn adds weight. The energy tightens. Emotions spin fast. The love shakes. Then it breaks.

The break is quiet. No drama—just distance. No closure—just silence. One disappears. The other aches. You scroll texts. You overthink words. You ask why. There’s no answer. You feel hollow. You miss their voice. You miss yourself too. Rahu marks endings. Saturn confirms lessons. Karmic love ends heavy. You stand alone. But not unchanged.

Later comes light. Not bright—just softer. You understand why. You see patterns. You stop blaming. You forgive slowly. You heal slower. You want peace. Not chaos now. You crave stillness. Not sparks anymore. You thank the storm. Not for love—for awakening. It hurt deeply. But it freed you. That love wasn’t forever. But it mattered. It cracked you open. Then helped you grow.