Sometimes, I spend far too much time wondering whether what I did was right. Whether it was really necessary for things to happen the way they did. And then, among all those thoughts, I always find myself returning to the one thing I chose not to let happen. Yes, it is exactly what you’re thinking about—my decision, and the decision that involved both of us. Before I say anything further, I want to talk about something that exists within every human being. The way we think, the way we influence others, changes with time. Some people call it persuasion, some call it convincing, but I would call it manipulation. In the study of negotiation, it is described as a skill. But in reality, I believe it is an art—an art that every person judges differently. Whenever we feel we are about to be proven wrong, our mind instinctively begins defending itself. It starts reading the person in front of us, trying to influence them, sometimes even to fulfill our own agenda. Every person possesses this ability. Whether it is right or wrong, whether it should be used or not, depends entirely on the individual. I had that opportunity once. It was nothing more than five minutes of manipulation. I could have done it. I didn’t consider it wrong then, and I don’t consider it wrong even today. Osho once said that this is the age of Kaliyuga, where the one who speaks well is often considered right. Using a skill you possess never seemed wrong to me. In many ways, it is no different from using Prompt Engineering as a skill in today’s AI era.

But I didn’t do it. At that moment, I thought to myself—yes, I could manipulate the situation, everything would become alright, and we would be together again. There was nothing inherently wrong with that. It was what she wanted, and it was what I wanted. Neither of us believed it was wrong then, nor do I believe it is wrong now. But… that one word stood in the middle of everything. It made me stop and think again. Yes, five minutes of carefully chosen words could have changed everything. We would have been together. But then what? Would I ever be able to forget that I had manipulated her into making that decision? And if one day someone else did the same to another person, what right would I have to question it? More importantly, what would happen when she thought about her family? What if, one day, guilt found its way into her heart? Would she see me as someone who simply had a skill, or as someone who had deceived her? Even if she never questioned any of this, would she ever truly believe that the decision was hers? Or would she always wonder whether she had simply fallen into my words rather than followed her own heart?

Even if I put all of that aside, another thought always remains. Had I said those five minutes’ worth of words—the ones that would have been right for both of us—I already knew what would follow. She would carry the guilt of believing she had done something wrong to the people she loved. Perhaps she would feel that she had betrayed them. Why should I become the reason for a burden she would carry for the rest of her life? Why shouldn’t I carry that burden instead? What would really happen? I would cry for a few days, remember her for a while, and eventually remind myself that I had done the right thing by not manipulating her. After all, what was the price of having her beside me? Just five minutes of my words. I only wished that she would never have to carry that guilt. But what happened instead?

What happened is that, even today, I still wonder what this day would have looked like if I had chosen differently. How would all these days have passed if, that day, I had simply drawn her into my words? No, it wouldn’t have been wrong. We both would have been happy. But… once again, that same but. She would have been with me, carrying a guilt that might have lived inside her forever. Perhaps that very guilt would have become the reason she walked away from me one day. Perhaps she would look at me today with resentment in her eyes. Or perhaps none of that would have happened, and we would still be together, living happily. But when someone had already begun to see me as the wrong person because of what her loved ones believed, how could I ever convince myself that everything would have turned out perfectly if we had stayed together? I wish we had been together. Then I could have shown her what I never wanted to do. I wish we had been together. Maybe she would have understood me without my having to explain any of this. I wish you were here… and instead of writing these words, we would have been sitting together, telling each other another story—perhaps our own.