The Last Spring in Venice - By Kalhari Kaluarachchi

Written By: Kalhari Kaluarachchi

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the vibrant tapestry of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Kalhari Kaluarachchi's short story "The Last Spring in Venice" emerges as a profound exploration of love and self-discovery. Set against the backdrop of enchanting Venice, the narrative unfolds through the eyes of Nisha Patel, a seasoned journalist whose life takes an unexpected turn. This tale is a testament to the complexities of human emotions and the choices that define our paths.

About the Work

"The Last Spring in Venice" is a captivating narrative that delves into the themes of love, longing, and self-realization. With its richly drawn characters and evocative settings, the story captures the essence of life's unpredictable nature. The author's masterful use of imagery and emotional depth invites readers to reflect on the choices that shape our destinies and the bittersweet nature of fleeting moments.

The Last Spring in Venice

Original Submission by Kalhari Kaluarachchi

The Last Spring in Venice

It’s about me. I’m a 52‑year‑old woman. My name is Nisha Patel. I’m a professional journalist. I studied at the University of New Delhi. I was born and raised in Gandhinagar. My family is an opulent family from generations. I was the amenable only child of Mr. and Mrs. Shyam Patel. It was unfortunate that my mum, Mrs. Patel, had a short life span. I had just entered university when she passed away from heart failure. It was a big tragedy for our family, and my dad felt it more than anyone. He retired and hid himself in his memories. I continued my studies and later got married to a doctor from a known family, arranged by my dad. Just one month after my wedding, my dad also quit life to join my mum.

My family life was formal. My husband and I had two kids — one son and one daughter. They were independent, mature children, very close to each other, with only a one‑year age gap. They left Gandhinagar after school to go to Boston and were not interested in returning, but wanted us to visit them. I was always on my own. After our kids left, there was more space between us. I hardly saw my husband. I was very busy with my own work. I worked for an interior design magazine that was very popular in India. I loved my job. I was devoted to the magazine. I was one of its leading editors. My whole life was it. My husband was another workaholic, and we had mostly forgotten each other. Neither of us had any interest except when the kids occasionally wanted us to be present together.

I used to travel a lot to different places for my work. I visited the most beautiful places — places many people dream of seeing. I was in love with my work. I didn’t see anything else apart from that.

In Venice, I found myself on an archaeological site after a business meeting. As I conversed with my team and walked, my arm collided with something. Instinctively, I turned to see an exceptionally charming gentleman who had caught me, preventing a fall. My embarrassment grew as I realised I hadn’t even noticed how I ended up in his arms.

The gentleman was Marco Esposito, a young Italian archaeologist aged 35. He was unusually late to the site for a discussion on his project work and crashed into me while running to the location. He was rushed and apologised, asking if I was alright. When I replied, “I’m fine,” he kissed my cheek, saying, “Oh great! Excuse me, I must leave,” and lifted his bag onto his shoulder. I got lost in his eyes. It was magical. I had never felt such a feeling before. However, I believe I managed to hide myself from others, completed the day, and went to rest at the hotel. I was restless. I felt like a sixteen‑year‑old girl. Nothing was in my mind except him. My mind didn’t surrender. That incident was the only thing I could think about. I wanted to see that handsome man again. I excused myself, saying, “I must apologise, I didn’t even say sorry. It was rude.” But that was not true. The reality was, I was craving to see him.

It was a waste trying to rest in the room. I left early. Usually, I came out only for dinner and went to sleep early. That evening was different. I dressed well and left the room early. It was a nice spring evening. The sky was still blue. I walked down the road, looking around in case I might spot him in any corner.

After wandering around the city for a while, I felt disappointed. Slowly, I made my way back to the hotel to pack my belongings for the journey home. The warm weather enveloped me as I headed straight to the restaurant, where I sat in a corner, gazing into the distance with a sense of disappointment. It was so empty.

I rose from my seat and approached the bar to order a drink. My eyes widened as the person I had been searching for all evening was seated at the counter. Clad in a crisp white shirt and matching pants, he exuded irresistible charm. His charisma rendered me speechless, and he recognised me instantly. Without hesitation, he walked over to me. I was overwhelmed by his presence. I struggled to find the words I had intended to say.

We sat down, ordered drinks, and later decided to have dinner too. Our conversation flowed effortlessly; it felt as though we had known each other for ages. When it grew late, the restaurant wanted us to leave. He walked me to the elevator. As we stood close, he surprised me by pulling me into a kiss. It was unexpected, but I didn’t want it to end. By then, I was completely captivated by him.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked. I had no reason to say no.

It was a wonderful, life‑shifting meeting. My life changed. We started living together. Days flew like minutes. Every second was magical. We lived life to the fullest, savouring every moment. We were a perfect pair.

Marco rose from his seat and prepared coffee for both of us. Our plan for the day was to visit a church as part of a project. The morning was serene and beautiful. As we sat down for breakfast, he gazed at me as if seeing me for the first time. The only sounds were the clinking of cutlery against plates. Our eyes met, and we exchanged smiles.

The church was beautiful. It stood in the middle of a vast garden. In front of the church was a huge grass area. The hedges were dotted with small daisies. The garden showed that every inch of it was well looked after. As we walked into the church, a bunch of school kids emerged like butterflies. They were cheerful and full of energy. Marco was surrounded by them. They held onto him, and it was a heartwarming connection with the little ones.

It was around 6.30 pm. The sun was almost set and dim. I came out to see Marco. He was working from the patio. He saw me walking toward him, opened his arm, took me onto his lap, and kissed me gently. I stayed there for a while and then took my own seat next to him. He smiled at me and turned his attention to the computer, saying, “Give me five minutes, sending an urgent work out.”

I glanced at him until he finished. Meanwhile, I walked down the memory of the day. My mind went back and stopped at the moment we met the kids. It was so beautiful how Marco interacted with them. I broke the silence.

“You like kids so much, don’t you, Marco?” It slipped out without any plan. He smiled at me while closing the laptop and collecting his stationery.

“Do you like to have your own kids?” I didn’t know where that question came from. His eyes started twinkling like stars. He grinned. That made me awaken from the dream I was lost in.

I felt I was committing a crime. I was a 52‑year‑old woman with two grown kids. I was wasting this young man’s life. I didn’t say a single word. I quietly got up, walked into the house, took my bag, packed, and called for a cab.

Marco was puzzled by my behaviour. I couldn’t stop myself, and neither could he. I felt ashamed. I was lost in a fantasy and suddenly came back to reality. Marco was in tears. He walked behind me, asking the reason for my leaving. I couldn’t collect words to express myself. At the car door, I said, “I will give you a call,” kissed his forehead, and left. He was confused and holding his head. I looked at him from the side mirror until he disappeared. My eyes flooded with tears. I felt horrible about myself. I went to the same hotel where I had met Marco three months ago. I couldn’t find my way back straight with the feeling I had in my deep thoughts. I wanted to correct the mistakes I made.

Marco was in the lobby. I got a call from the reception. I was waiting for him. That phone call pleased me. I got up, got ready, and walked down. He looked miserable. He came straight to me and kissed me. I couldn’t resist. But I managed to stop him after a few seconds. He asked, “Why? At least tell me why.” We sat in the lobby. I told him, “This is not right. I have my own kids, and I cannot stop you from having yours. That is not right.” Marco was upset and helpless. “Who told you I need kids? It was your own imagination. Please stop this. We were perfectly happy. Come, let’s go home.” I was silent. I was guilty. He tried as much as possible, but I couldn’t make up my mind. I felt worse. It was not right for this wonderful man to lose the right to have his own kids. “Marco, you can find a young, beautiful woman and get married.” I got up and left. It was very tough, but I managed to do it for him. It was not easy for either of us. However, that was my final decision. I saw Marco walking away from the lobby.

I took my flight home. Home was surprisingly the same way it was. I felt like I had come back from a vacation in paradise. It was so empty. The memory of Marco was the sweetest thing in my life. Sometimes I cried with the recollection, and sometimes I smiled.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating the richness of literary expression worldwide. It showcases the diverse voices of writers and poets, offering them an opportunity to share their unique perspectives and creativity with an international audience. This competition continues to inspire and elevate the art of storytelling and poetry.

We extend our gratitude to Kalhari Kaluarachchi for sharing "The Last Spring in Venice" with us. Your contribution to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 is a beautiful testament to the power of storytelling. We appreciate your participation and look forward to more of your creative endeavors.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.