By Akshaya Ambati
It starts with a quiet addition to your watchlist,
an impulsive save for later,
where it sits unnoticed amidst the crowd
of trending series and half-finished movies.
You scroll past it countless times,
pausing just long enough to consider it,
but the moment never feels quite right.
And so, it waits-
patiently, silently,
until something pushes it into your world.
Maybe it’s a perfectly edited YouTube clip
that stirs a flicker of curiosity,
or perhaps a friend insists,
“You have to watch this, trust me.”
Finally, you give in.
The first few episodes feel slow, almost tedious.
The characters seem like strangers,
their world unfamiliar, their motives unclear.
It’s like arriving in a new city,
the streets unfamiliar,
the language foreign,
the rhythm all wrong.
But you keep going,
because somewhere deep down,
you feel it might be worth it.
Gradually,
the story begins to unfold.
The characters you once dismissed
start to feel real,
their lives inching closer to yours.
Their quirks make sense now,
their struggles resonate.
You notice the subtle glances,
the unspoken words,
the tiny moments of joy or heartbreak
that pull you in deeper.
Not every episode is perfect.
Some parts feel lacking,
as though they could have been more.
You skip through a scene or two,
searching for the spark that will reignite your interest.
But life doesn’t allow skipping,
and maybe that’s why you keep coming back-
because here, you can.
The world you once felt detached from
feels like home.
You share their victories,
their sorrows,
their fears.
You root for the quiet ones to speak up,
for love to be confessed,
for the villain to finally lose.
It’s not just a story anymore.
It’s a connection.
But as with all things,
it must end.
The final episodes loom on the horizon,
and you find yourself dreading them.
You hesitate to press play,
knowing that once you do,
it will all be over.
You slow down,
savoring every scene,
every line of dialogue.
Suddenly,
you’re hyper-aware of everything.
The tiniest gestures,
the words spoken in passing,
the music swelling in the background-
everything feels like a farewell.
You watch slower now,
even at 0.25x speed,
replaying moments,
holding onto them
for just a little longer.
By the time it ends,
you’re left with a strange emptiness,
like saying goodbye to a friend
you’ve come to rely on.
The lessons linger-
about love, loss, courage, and change.
The characters,
so vivid,
feel like family.
Weeks later,
you hear a familiar background score,
spot a face from the show in another role,
or stumble upon a meme or edit
that brings it all rushing back.
It stays with you,
long after the credits roll.
What began as just another addition
to your overflowing watchlist
becomes something far more-
a part of you,
etched into your memories,
waiting,
always there,
patient and still.