It’s a journey of friendship, it grows, blossoms, drifts, and finds its own progression. There was a time when the three of them believed life would move in perfect parallel lines.
Childhood has a way of making promises feel permanent. Shared lunches, whispered secrets, borrowed clothes, unfinished sentences that didn’t need completion, everything felt like it would last. Like them.
But life, as it does, had other plans.
Much like the quiet emotional undercurrent of Crossroads on Netflix, the story of the three friends wasn’t about a dramatic fallout. It was softer, more real, and more unsettling. It was about drifting. It took me back to my times, The three Musketeers we were called!
Three Lives, Three Lenses
They began together, but life carved each of them differently.
One grew into resilience through struggle, learning to question everything, trust slowly, and protect her peace fiercely. Seeking meaning, depth, and connection in everything she touched.
Another chose structure, finding comfort in logic, growth, and the predictability of a well-designed life. She took to the foreign land to pursue a better life.
The third leaned into dreams and ideation, creating life through art pieces, staying in motion, ready to experiment; an EQ that found expression unconventionally.
Same memories. Same roots. But entirely different ways of seeing the world.
And that’s where the quiet distance began.
Because we don’t just grow older. We grow accustomed to a frame of reference through which we view life. By experiences. By heartbreak. By success. By the narratives we build to survive.
What once felt effortless now needed explanation. What once felt safe now felt misunderstood.
The Slow unravelling.
No one walked away abruptly.
There were missed calls. Unanswered messages that felt too heavy to reply to. Meetings postponed until they were no longer planned.
And somewhere in between, a realisation settled in: Not all friendships break. Some simply loosen their grip. And it’s okay. People evolve differently. No point holding on to the weight of relations!
The Truth About Relationships
With time comes a different kind of clarity. Some people are your everyday. Some are your once-in-a-while. And some are your once-upon-a-time.
There are relationships that feel like Sukoon—a quiet assurance of their presence. You may not speak every day, but you know they are part of your life, a steady background note. No urgency, no performance. Just presence. The person may not necessarily be someone from the growing-up years.
And then there are those that come with an invisible expiry date. Not because they were not real.
But because they belonged to a version of you that no longer exists.
Holding on to them often feels like holding on to a past self; tight, nostalgic, and quietly exhausting.
Minimalism in Relationships
We often speak of decluttering homes, wardrobes, and schedules. But rarely do we talk about decluttering relationships. Minimalism, in its truest sense, is not about having less. It is about having only what feels true. Importantly, the connections, relations, and people whom at this stage and age we want to nurture and grow with.
Fewer expectations.
Fewer forced connections.
Fewer conversations that drain more than they give.
More space for authenticity. For ease. For silence that doesn’t feel awkward. Letting go doesn’t always mean rejection.
Sometimes, it is simply respect for what was and what is no longer.
Finding ground instead of chasing. There comes a point where you stop chasing people to recreate what once was. Because you understand that we cannot rebuild yesterday with today’s version of people.
Also, sometimes we hold on to people because of the memories we have of them as an intrinsic part of us. But holding can be toxic sometimes.
It’s been a continuous learning to show up where you feel seen.
You stay where energy flows both ways.
And you gently release what feels like effort without meaning.
A Personal Note
If I’ve learnt anything, it is this:
Life is not a straight road; it is a flow.
People enter like seasons.
Some stay long enough to become landscapes.
Some pass like a breeze, leaving behind a feeling you can’t quite name.
And both are okay.
There is no failure in a friendship that has changed shape. There is no loss in a connection that served its time. There is only movement. And perhaps, the quiet wisdom to know that not everything is meant to be held forever.
Some things are meant to be felt, lived and gently let go. Maybe there is an expiry date for relationships, since they stop being that effective and if consumed, may become toxic.
Because in the end, life isn’t about holding on.
It’s about flowing.