When Ketu touches Venus: love, loss, repeat.

When Ketu meets Venus, love feels strange. It’s soft, but slipping. You fall fast. You don’t know why. It feels fated, like a return. But nothing stays. They’re close, then gone. You reach out, but miss. It feels like dreaming someone real. You try to hold it. But the more you try, the more it fades. There’s love, but it drifts. It lingers like smoke—seen, but not touched. The more you want it, the more it disappears.

You think it’s something deep. And it is—but not safe. There’s a haunting in the bond. It feels like memory, not presence. You sense history with them. Something old, unfinished. But love doesn’t grow here. It echoes, then ends. Ketu brings detachment, quiet unraveling. Venus wants warmth. Ketu offers space. Together, it’s bittersweet. You feel more alone in love than without it. They’re next to you, but far away.

You try to understand it. The silence, the pull, the ache. You wonder what went wrong. But it wasn’t wrong. It was meant to show, not to stay. These are loves that teach. Loves that return to release. You thought it was beginning. It was already halfway through. They come into your life softly. They leave without noise. But you carry their shape for a while. A love that never roots, only floats.

You give more than they ask for. You stay longer than you should. You wait for them to feel it back. Sometimes they do, briefly. But never at the same depth. You notice the imbalance. The reaching, the retreating. The wanting, the waiting. It’s not obsession. It’s memory. Your soul remembers, even when your heart forgets. This isn’t about romance’. It’s about closure. Not with them—with yourself.

These loves don’t destroy. They dissolve. You feel undone, not broken. Changed, not shattered. It hurts in quiet ways. You miss things that never fully formed. Conversations that almost happened. Futures that flickered, then faded. You thought it was real. It was. Just not lasting. It was a glimpse. A reflection. A lesson in letting go, not holding tighter.

Time makes the silence clearer. You see what it was. A mirror. A message. You stop calling it a mistake. You start calling it complete. You learn that not all love arrives to stay. Some arrive to shift your path. To remind you what you’ve outgrown. What you no longer chase. You stop searching for what left. You start creating what stays.

Now you know the difference. Between longing and love. Between depth and disconnection. Between karmic pull and conscious choice. You stop chasing the ghost of something beautiful. You walk toward something whole. And when real love comes again, it feels different. It stays. It doesn’t echo. It lands. Quiet. Steady. Present.