The Cherry That Never Found Its Cake

Sometimes even when life feels full, there’s a quiet corner of the heart that stays unlit…waiting, without reason or name.

Image by Wolfgang Claussen from Pixabay

There’s a strange kind of silence that follows success. You spend years climbing, hustling, building and one day, you look around and realize you are on your way.

The company’s doing well.

The money flows in.

Your mother and sister are healthy, Alhamdulillah !

The bills are paid without hesitation. You eat clean, work out, travel and sleep knowing you’ve honoured your responsibilities. By most accounts, you’ve done it right.

And yet, there’s that quiet familiar emptiness that lingers when you walk into a room. That faint ache, somewhere in your gut.

You can fill your days with meetings, laughter, deadlines, and playlists from another decade but there’s always that invisible space beside you. The one you subconsciously glance toward, as though expecting someone to finally be sitting there, smiling back.

It’s not loneliness in the conventional sense. You’re surrounded by people friends who know your quirks, a family that grounds you, a life that’s rich with purpose. But the vacuum isn’t about absence, it’s about incompleteness. Like a song that fades just before the last chord, or a…