Venus Mahadasha started sweet. Antardasha? Plot twist.

Venus Mahadasha begins soft and slow. Love feels easy, warm, and real. Hearts open without needing permission. Eyes meet, souls recognize each other. Life takes on a golden glow. You trust. You feel deeply seen. Laughter comes naturally, everything flows smooth. It feels like fate is kind. This is love in full bloom.

Then something shifts—quiet, almost unspoken. Mars Antardasha brings fire and friction. Desire grows sharp, cuts into peace. Fights flare from smallest misunderstandings. Passion burns, but leaves behind ashes. You speak, but don’t feel heard. Every hug feels like a trap. Love turns into a silent war.

Rahu clouds things with strange intensity. Everything feels urgent, but unstable too. There’s hunger, but no grounding trust. Fantasies blur into half-truths quickly. You chase what slips through fingers. Emotions spiral without any safe place. It feels real, but never is.

Saturn arrives with cold, slow lessons. Distance grows where warmth once lived. Conversations turn into tired responsibilities. Eyes stop meeting, hands drift apart. You try, but love feels heavy. Familiarity replaces passion, silence replaces understanding. You stay, but lose yourself slowly.

Ketu doesn’t fight—just quietly leaves. One morning, something feels missing completely. There’s no goodbye, just absence growing. You search for closeness, find space. No one is angry, just gone. What was once sacred feels empty. The silence is the final answer.

Venus promised love, but taught more. It gave beauty, then took it. It gave closeness, then showed distance. You remember how it all felt. You forget how it all faded. But in the ruins, you learn. Not about others—about your own heart.