Endings rarely arrive all at once. They begin quietly— in small shifts, in things that no longer feel the same, in moments that slowly lose their weight. But hope has its own way of holding on. It focuses on what is left and ignores what has already drifted away. The signs are never hidden. The distance. The silence. The subtle difference in how things feel. They are all visible— just softened by what you want to believe. And when the final moment arrives, it feels sudden. But it wasn’t a crash. It was just the moment your hope ran out of explanations.