The story ended on a cliffhanger of sorts, with the lead guy camping outside the girl’s street hoping to run into her because he did not want to contact her by the normal method of collecting her number or looking for her socials. And me, determined to find out what happened after, dug through the internet to find out the original column from the New York Times written by Cecilia Pesao. But the article which was in the form of a miniature, under 100 words essay classified as a “Tiny Love Story” was unfortunately behind a paywall, so I settled for an interview of the writer instead. And maybe it was a harsh reality check to get me down from my romantic lala land I was so resentful about never having to experience, because I think the creators of the show took an awful lot of creative liberty to tweak the story.

Unlike the show, the guy didn’t end up camping like a roadside Romeo, but just searched for her on Twitter and they began talking. And despite the chemistry they did share in the train ride which inspired a show by Amazon Prime, it actually fizzled out after a few months and the irl couple stopped talking, and never even got to meet again. I mean the irony of it all is that our dude right here doesn’t even possibly know there was a story published in NYT in the first place, let alone the fact that John Snow is playing him on television. And that was enough to put my romantic ass into my place.

I think, if we start asking this same question for almost all of the iconic love stories we grew up idolizing, our expectations from a romantic relationship would turn a lot more realistic. The question of “What happens after the happy ending?” Or “What does happily ever after really look like?” Because the truth of a romantic relationship is that it is a platter of an overwhelmingly diverse group of emotions, and love is just one of them trying to balance it’s equally potent negative counterparts like jealously, anger, resentment, and worst of all, indifference. I once read that the scary thing about relationships is that most often the quirks that made you fall in love turn into the very thing you fall out of love. I do not think there is anything more effed up than that, and there is certainly something to be admired about the foolish courage with which I used to deep dive into relationships. Courage, which I most certainly have run out of.