Alisha

“Doesn’t it bother you at all?” Rishi asked, keeping pace beside me as we made our way through the narrow street. The buzz of the Goa nightlife echoed in the background, but his voice cut through it.

I didn’t answer right away.

"Not even a little?" he pressed again, glancing at me sideways. "About the video? About Jayant's reaction?"

I finally stopped walking and turned to face him. My voice came out firmer than I expected.
"No, Rishi. I’m not bother. Not even a little. Because life already has enough crap to feel terrible about. I’m not going to waste a second of my energy on what some useless, faceless people on the internet have to say. Their words—mean nothing to me.”

Rishi raised a brow. “If it doesn’t matter, then why are we running around trying to fix it?”

I let out a sigh, not of exhaustion, but clarity.
“Because Jayant cares. It matters to him. And I’m doing this—for him. He’s out there losing his mind over some strangers’ comments—fighting the whole damn world for me like I can’t fight for myself.”

We kept walking a few more steps in silence. Then, almost in a whisper, I added, “But I have to fix it myself… before he does. Before he makes this his war. I need to be the one to show him that I can handle it.”

Rishi slowed his pace, looking at me thoughtfully.
“You really don’t need his help?”

I looked him straight in the eyes, and this time, I didn’t waver.
“No. I don’t,” I said, louder now. “And that’s exactly why I will fix it.”

There was something strangely liberating about saying it out loud. Like I was taking back a little piece of control in a world that constantly tried to define me through someone else’s gaze.

This time, I would write my own ending—before anyone else tried to write it for me.

Of course, Soumya would have a solution. If anyone knew the people behind that video, it was her.

I saw her standing alone at the far end of the street, scrolling through her phone. Rishi, who’d been walking beside me the whole time, suddenly slowed down.

“I don’t think I can watch you two fight,” he said quietly.

I didn’t pause. “I’m not here to fight.”

He gave me a look. “It’ll turn into one.

“No, it won’t.” I reached out and took his hand, tugging him forward. “Come on.”

As we reached her, Soumya looked up and immediately rushed over, guilt already written all over her face.

“I’m so sorry, Alisha!” she said in a single breath. “I told you that the video wouldn’t be misused—but Rahul turned out to be an absolute creep. He’s the one who uploaded it.”

“Rahul?” I asked, confused. Then I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter who. What matters is: what does he want to take it down?”

Soumya hesitated, “Wait... You think he gonna blackmail you?”

“Not yet. But he will,” I said calmly. “That’s why he did it, right? He wants something. They always do.”

Rishi stepped forward. “You know this guy. Let’s just report him. Go to the police. File a complaint.”

“About what exactly?” Soumya asked, her tone almost defensive.

“Cybercrime?” Rishi snapped. “Violation of privacy? Harassment?”

Soumya exhaled and crossed her arms. “The video isn’t offensive. It’s actually... kind of beautiful. The problem isn’t the video itself. It’s that it was uploaded without Alisha’s consent.”

“And the filthy comments underneath it?” Rishi shot back. “Those don’t matter?”

“They aren’t Rahul’s fault,” she said. “You can’t stop people from commenting. Ten out of a hundred comments are always trash. That’s the internet.”

I looked at her sharply. “So now you’re defending him?”

“No,” Soumya said, frustrated. “I’m just telling the truth. And I’m telling you that the video will be taken down.”

“Just like you promised the first time?” I asked coldly. “And look how that turned out.”

Soumya flinched. “This time it’s different. Aransh will make sure it’s removed permanently.”

Rishi and I exchanged a glance. “Who the hell is Aransh?” we asked in unison.

She sighed. “The guy in the video" she said. “The one dancing with you in the rain. The one in the hoodie.”

I froze.

So the mystery boy had a name. Aransh.

Soumya continued. “That’s why the video was posted in the first place—Rahul did it just to hurt Aransh. But Aransh still respects your decision, Alisha. He never wanted the video online. He’ll make sure it gets deleted completely.”

She kept explaining, going on about trust and resolution, but I couldn’t focus.

Aransh.

The boy who held my hand in the rain like it meant something.
The boy who never said a word, but looked at me like he could write a hundred poems about the silence between us.
The boy whose video has now become the center of chaos.

And yet, he might be the only one who could end it.

A while later, the news came in—
The video was gone.
Not just taken down from the original account, but every last copy had vanished. Scrubbed clean from the internet.
And it was him.
Aransh had done it.

Soumya exhaled deeply, like she’d been holding her breath for hours. “Thank God,” she whispered, a relieved smile tugging at her lips. She reached into her bag and pulled out a cold beer bottle, unscrewed the cap with a lazy flick of her wrist, and held it out to me.
“Here. You need this more than I do.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m okay.”
Instead, I sat beside her quietly, letting the silence stretch between us.

Rishi was next to me, his hand wrapped around mine, firm and warm. For a moment, I didn’t feel alone.

But somewhere beneath that quiet moment, a question kept burning in me:
Why is it that whenever I try to take control of my own life... someone else always ends up pulling the strings?
Why couldn’t I fix this on my own?

As if on cue, Soumya tilted her head toward us and smirked. “So… how long have you two been dating?”

Rishi almost choked. His hand jerked away from mine like it had caught fire. “Dating? No, no—we’re not dating,” he said too quickly. “We’re just… really old friends.”

Soumya grinned wider. “Right… Well, from how stressed you looked when that video came out, I would’ve bet money you were her boyfriend.”

Rishi chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah, I don’t even have a girlfriend right now.”

That made her laugh. She raised the bottle in salute, half-empty now, handed him her beer. “Drink. You sound like you need it more than me.”

He hesitated, then took a sip.

The two of them kept talking, giggling over nothing, their voices dancing between teasing and lighthearted jabs.
And for once, I didn’t feel the need to be part of the conversation.

I smiled as I watched them.
Then, quietly, I stood up and slipped away.

Rishi didn’t even notice.
He was too caught up in Soumya’s stories, in her laughter.
And maybe that was a good thing.

I left them both—Rishi and Soumya—still laughing over their drink. I didn’t belong there anymore. The chaos had ended. The video was gone. Problem solved.

The only thing left to do… was tell Jayant.

I returned to the hotel, expecting to find him pacing in his room, still restless, still overthinking. But he wasn’t there. His room was empty.

A strange tug of worry pulled at me.

I walked down the hallway and gently knocked on Shreya’s room door.

It was open.

And there, in the middle of the room, stood Jayant—frozen like a ghost. Still.

“You’re here…” I said, stepping inside, trying to steady my voice. “I’ve been looking for you. I thought you’d be in your room.”

I glanced around. The silence weighed heavy.

“She’s not here,” I said, more to myself than him. “Shreya’s not in her room.”

And that’s when I noticed his eyes—glassy. Wet. Expression blank. But his eyes… God, his eyes were shattered.

“Jayant…” I moved closer. “You’re crying?”

His voice was barely a whisper. “She’s gone.”

I blinked. “Gone? Gone where?”

he said. “She left.”

My heart clenched, but I kept my tone light. “Why? What happened?”

His tears fell then. “She loves me, Aalu… she said it. She loves me.”

I forced a small smile through the ache in my chest. “That’s a good thing, right? Then… why are you crying?”

He looked at me like a lost boy. “Because she thinks I don’t love her back.”

“Do you?” I asked softly.

He paused.

Then, with more pain than clarity, he whispered, “I don’t know.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Jayant, do you miss her?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Of course.”

“For how long you gonna miss her?” I pushed gently. “A week?”

“No… longer.”

“A month?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her,” he murmured.

I nodded slowly. “So… can you live without her?”

He hesitated. “I did, before. I was okay. But now… now that she’s been in my life, I can’t imagine going back.”

I stepped closer. “Then go. Tell her. Tell her what she means to you.”

“She’s probably already gone by now…”

“Then follow her. Tell her how much you love her.”

He looked up, startled. “You think I love her?”

I smiled through the storm in my chest. “You’re breaking apart in her absence. You froze like death when she walked away. If that’s not love, Jayant… what is it?”

Something flickered in his eyes—realization, maybe.

“Aalu… I think I’m in love. Truly. I love her.”

“Yeah, Bandar,” I whispered. “You do.”

And just like that, he turned and ran. Out of the room, down the hall, away from me—and toward her.

Not me.

Never me.

That moment, something cracked inside me—not loud, not violent… but deep. Quiet. Unbearable.

And that’s when it hit me… no matter how close I stayed to him, no matter how long I waited in silence, no matter how many battles I fought on his behalf—he was never going to run for me.

The truth burned in my chest.

The farther I walk away from Jayant, the more it’ll hurt.

But if I stay close?

It’ll kill me slowly.

A while later, I returned to my room, trying not to think too much. Just breathe. Just be still.

But the knock on the door came too soon.

It was Rishi and Rahim.

Their faces were tense, restless—eyes searching. And I already knew the question before they asked it.

“Have you seen Jayant?” Rishi asked.

I nodded slightly "he’s where he needs to be.”

They looked at each other, uncertain.
I explained them the complete story.

They exchanged a glance, and then Rishi, unable to contain it, asked the question lingering in both their minds.

“If Shreya loved him so much… why did she leave?”

I swallowed, forcing down the heaviness in my throat.

“Because sometimes,” I said, “girls don’t walk away because they want to… they walk away to see if someone will run after them.”

There was silence. Until Rahim, with his usual directness, looked right at me. His voice carried more weight than usual.

“And you… didn’t it hurt?” he asked. “Helping Jayant go after someone else? Convincing him to chase Shreya? Didn’t it kill you?”

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry.

I just looked at them—both of them—and gave the only truth I had.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Rishi blinked. “Wait… you mean… you don’t love JP anymore?”

I smiled faintly, not bitter, not broken—just… free.

"My love has reached a place now...
I no longer notice who stands beside him
I only see him.
I don’t care who makes him laugh—
I just hold on to the sound of his laughter.
Perhaps that’s what true love is...
Loving someone so deeply,
That their happiness becomes yours,
Even when you're not the reason behind it."

I smiled—small, sad, and strong.

“I still do love him. I just.. just don’t need him to love me back.”

They didn’t say anything. Maybe they couldn’t.

There was a silence in the room, not heavy—but sacred.

And in that silence, I finally accepted it.

Jayant loved someone else.

And I… had finally learned how to love him without needing him to love me back.

I stayed back that night. I didn’t feel like talking, and for once, silence felt like comfort.

The next day, though, everything felt lighter—like Goa itself was trying to lift the weight off our shoulders.

Rishi, Rahim, and I wandered through the vibrant streets, laughed till our stomachs hurt, and clicked pictures that might never make it to social media but would live in our memories forever.

And somewhere in that ease, Soumya slipped into our circle—and surprisingly, into our hearts. She and Rishi clicked effortlessly. Their laughter felt genuine, like sunshine after a long rain.

Watching them, I felt... peaceful.

And somehow, Soumya and I—despite our rocky start—found a strange rhythm too. She wasn’t so bad once the walls came down. In fact, we got along... really well.

No jealousy. No ache. Just a quiet happiness that someone I cared about was finally getting the warmth he deserved.

Maybe I haven’t known love myself.
But watching it bloom between others, I’ve learned one thing—
Love is beautiful.
Even if it’s not yours.

They say love is beautiful. I always thought that was something people in love said to justify their chaos. But now… now I think I get it.
__________________________________________________________________________

Jayant

I couldn't wait for sunrise.

The moment I landed in Delhi, I headed straight to her place. It was barely 4 a.m. when I stood outside her building, calling her again and again like an idiot—fully aware she wouldn’t pick up. But hope makes fools of even the most rational minds.

After too many failed attempts, I walked up to her apartment and rang the doorbell.

A man opened the door. Mid-thirties. Stern face. Protective eyes.
Her brother-in-law, probably.

Before he could speak, I slipped past him and began calling out, “Shreya… Shreya!”

“Hey! Who the hell are you?” he barked, following close behind. “You can’t just barge in here!”

But then… she appeared.
Standing at the end of the hallway, barefoot. In a loose t-shirt.
Eyes tired. Expression blank. She looked like she hadn’t slept.

Her brother-in-law stepped toward me, ready to throw me out when she raised her hand gently and said, “JJ… no.”
She gave him a subtle nod, and he reluctantly stepped back, still watching me like a hawk.

Then she looked at me.

Cold. Controlled.
But her eyes… they carried the fatigue of a hundred unspoken emotions.

“Let’s talk in my room,” she said quietly.

Then turning back to JJ, she added, “Di is still asleep, right? Don’t wake her. And don’t tell her… please.”

He nodded.

She led me into her room…and i just followed her.

∆∆°•°∆∆

“What was so urgent,” she said coldly, arms crossed, “that you couldn’t even wait for the morning, Mr. Patil?”

Mr. Patil.

The way it rolled off her tongue—it hurt.
Like I was suddenly a stranger to her. An outsider.

I exhaled harshly. “Mr. Patil? Really? So that’s who I am now? Just like that, you moved on overnight? You forgot everything? From Jayant to Mr. Patil—wow.”

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she threw it right back at me, sharper than before.

“And when exactly did you let me call you Jayant? When did you give me that space, that right? You never did. I was just foolish enough to think I had it.”

Every word stung.

“I was just a toy to you, wasn’t I? A distraction? I don’t know why I ever thought I was special.”

“I broke my own rules for you. Let my guard down. Thought I meant something. I thought—God—I thought you saw me.”

“I do see you!” I shouted, stepping toward her, hands reaching out before falling helplessly to my sides. “You think I don’t? You think you don’t matter to me?”

She was trembling now, not from fear—but from the sheer effort of holding herself together.

“You see me,” she whispered. “But only when you need to. I was there beside you when no one else was. And the moment they returned, I became invisible.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped closer and cupped her face gently, trying to quiet the storm in her eyes. “Shhh… Shreya, please. I'll listen all your complaints—but just once… let me speak too.”

She looked at me, her eyes shining with tears she was trying hard to hold back. But she stayed still in my hands. That small stillness gave me courage.

“There are people in my life I deeply care about. People for whom I would do anything. And now… you’ve become one of them.”
I paused. “You may not be my first priority right now… but you’re not the last either.”

Her jaw clenched. “But I want to be your first priority. I don’t want to be left behind on some road just because someone else needed you more in that moment.”

There it was. The pain. Raw, vulnerable, and honest.

I took a step back, heart heavy but voice steady.
“Before a woman walks into a man’s life, he already wears the weight of many roles—he’s a son, a brother, a friend. Those bonds don’t dissolve the moment someone new arrives. They shift, slowly, with time. And I need that time… to make space for you. All of you. Not in pieces. Not when it’s convenient. But fully.

You made me want more. Need more.
You’re in me now. I don’t know how to un-need you.”

Then came her whisper, quiet and breaking.

“How much time, Jayant? she said, stepping back. “I’m done being someone's almost. I’m sorry, but the kind of love I want… I don’t see that in you.”
tears slipping down unchecked now.

That single sentence shattered everything inside me.

I had no reply. No defense. No plea.
Because maybe… she was right.

I stood still. And she stepped away. She paused at the door, one hand still trembling on the handle.

"You should go," she said softly, already turning away from me.

So I did.
I walked out of that room carrying a silence that said everything we both couldn’t.

By the time I stepped out of her apartment, dawn had broken. A soft rain had begun to fall, gentle yet constant—like the kind that doesn't drench you all at once but soaks into your skin slowly, unnoticed. I kept walking. No destination, no direction. Just... walking.

I didn’t even notice the water soaking through my clothes, didn’t care that my shirt clung to my skin or that my breath had grown heavier.
All I could feel was the echo of her words—
I’m sorry, but the kind of love I want… I don’t see that in you.

And maybe… she was right.

Then I heard footsteps behind me. Light ones. Familiar.
I turned around.
Then suddenly, through the blurred curtain of rain, I saw her.

Shreya.

Standing there, just ahead of me—umbrella in hand.

She held it out over my head without a word, shielding me from the rain, while letting herself get soaked in it. The raindrops danced off her hair, slid down her cheeks like tears she refused to show me, and I just stood there, watching her.

Simply gestured toward the parked car. I obeyed—wordlessly. Walked toward it, "Get in the car," she said softly, barely above a whisper.
sat inside, and shut the door. But my eyes didn’t leave her. Even through the rain-speckled mirror, I kept looking.

A girl in the rain.
My girl.
Still there, still loving me…
Even when she no longer believed I loved her.

__________________________

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Have a good day lovely readers❣️👍