Jayant

She stands up slowly, reaches for me, and grabs my hand. Not to stop me from leaving-but to make me hear what she's about to say. Her hand is trembling, firm yet fragile, like she's holding on to the last thread of something already broken.

I don't look at her. I can't. My throat is burning, my chest feels like it's caving in.
"It's you," she whispers. "She loves you. She still does."

I don't turn around. Not even for a second. Because in that moment, something inside me-something old and sacred-shatters. Completely.

Today, with my own breaking, I broke Shreya too. And Alisha? Maybe I had already broken her a long time ago, long before I even realized.

But the pain I felt right now... it was something beyond language, something no word in this world could describe. It was like a silent storm tearing through my chest.

It's just pain. Quiet. Unforgiving. Suffocating.

My friends' silence had already started whispering this truth to me before. But now-Shreya's words confirm it.

Seventeen years. I was Alisha's first love. I am. Her best friend.

And what kind of best friend doesn't even notice the love burning in her eyes?
I walked out of the room. I didn't slam the door, I didn't say a word. I just left, because something inside me-something I had believed in for the past seventeen years-had collapsed...

My legs refuse to walk straight. I haven't touched a drop of alcohol, but I feel drunk-staggering, unstable.
And Shreya...
I can't even think about her right now.
She didn't deserve what I just did to her.
No one deserves that kind of hurt.
But I gave it anyway.

And Alisha-
If what Shreya said is true... Then I've wounded her more than anyone ever could.

Unintentionally. Repeatedly. Silently.
The girl I once promised to always protect, to always keep smiling...
I ended up being the one who made her cry in silence, year after year.
Everything around me blurs.
Roads. Memories. Even my own reflection in the car window. I collapse into the driver's seat. My breath is shallow, like I'm drowning on land. There's a strange weight in my chest-tight, suffocating.

I turn the AC on full blast, trying to breathe, trying to hold on to something.
I wipe away a couple of tears with the back of my hand. And then... I start the engine. Not to go anywhere in particular.
Just... away.
Away from the truth
Away from myself
---
I drove slowly through the empty streets, lost in thought, trying to process everything that had happened tonight. My hands were on the wheel, but my mind was a storm. Every word, every glance, every silence was playing on loop in my head like some cruel film I couldn't pause.

Before I even realized it, my car rolled to a stop near home.
I don't know why-but whenever life leaves me confused or torn, I end up here. At this door. With her.

Maybe it's because, even if I don't find answers, I at least find peace.
The kind of peace only a mother can give.

She's the only one who can silence the storm inside me. It was around 1 AM.
The world outside was asleep. But inside me, everything was wide awake-loud and restless. I rang the doorbell. Once. Then again. Then again-this time impatiently, as if pressing it enough times would calm my heart too.
The door finally opened.

Mom stood there in her nightgown, her eyes still carrying sleep. "What happened? Who is it at this hour?"
She looked at me-and the moment her eyes met mine, She didn't ask another question.

Before she could say a single word, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. Tightly. Desperately.
The dam I had built inside me, holding everything in for hours, just... broke.
I buried my face into her shoulder and cried. Like a child.
Unfiltered. Unashamed. Unstoppable.
I sobbed for the hurt I had caused. For the truths I couldn't face. For the girls I broke-one knowingly, the other without even realizing. And she held me.
Silently. Firmly. Like only a mother can.
No questions. No judgments. Just warmth.

She didn't ask me to stop crying. And I wasn't ready to stop either.
Because in that moment, the only thing stronger than my pain-was her embrace.
---
Slowly, she eased me away from the comfort of her embrace. With her gentle hands, she held my face and wiped the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Come," she whispered softly, "Sit down. Breathe."

She led me to the living room and made me sit on the couch like she used to when I was a little boy with bruised knees and a broken toy.

A few moments later, Dad entered too, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Why is he crying like that? Did he break up or something?" he asked, completely unaware of the heaviness choking the air.

Mom shot him a sharp look. "You just say anything that comes to your mind," she muttered, her tone clipped. Dad got the message and fell silent.

But I... I just sat there, wordless, like a child caught in the middle of a nightmare he couldn't explain. I was trying to calm myself, trying to steady my breath, but my chest felt like it had been hollowed out. My mother handed me a glass of water and gently patted my back, her touch steady, patient, waiting. She didn't rush me. She never did.

We sat like that for what felt like an eternity. Then, with a quiet glance, she gestured to Dad to leave the room. Perhaps she thought I wasn't speaking because he was there. But the truth was-I didn't have the words. I didn't even know where to begin.

Dad left without a word. The room fell silent again. Then she spoke-gently, but firmly. "Tell me... what happened? Did you and Shreya fight?" She was watching me now, really watching, searching for something in my expression.

"Tell me, please. Should I call Shreya?" she asked, already reaching for her phone.

"No..." I stopped her, my voice barely a whisper.

She lowered her hand. "Then talk to me. I'm not a mind reader, you know. You'll have to say it."

Her voice was firmer this time, cutting through the haze in my mind.
I reached out and took her hand in mine. My fingers trembled. My voice cracked.
With all the courage I could summon, I said it:
"Alisha... loves me. She's been in love with me... for seventeen years."

Mom didn't react the way I expected. Her face remained calm-almost too calm. As if what I had just confessed wasn't the thunderstorm shaking my world to its core.

I felt like I had to make her feel the weight of it. I started again, more urgently this time.
"Everyone knew. Everyone. Shreya knew. But no one told me. No one ever said a word." My voice rose, not in anger, but in desperation. "You know what Shreya did? She told Alisha to stay away from me. You understand what I'm saying, right? You're listening, aren't you?"

I was looking at her-pleading with her-to say something. Anything. To tell me it was all some misunderstanding. To say she was just protecting me. That it wasn't betrayal-it was love.
But she just sat there, silent. Still.
And that silence?
It was louder than anything I'd ever heard.
---
That silence-it wrapped around me like a cold, invisible fog. It made me wonder... did Mom know too? Had she known all along?

I looked at her, my voice barely under control. "Did you know?" I asked, my tone sharpening. "You knew too, didn't you?"

She held up her hand gently, trying to calm me. "No... no, sweetheart. I didn't know. I just-there were times I suspected... that's all."

"When?" I interrupted, my eyes locking with hers. "When did you start suspecting it?"

"Calm down first," she said softly. "It was during your school and college days. The way Alisha looked at you, the way she... cared. But then she chose a completely different path, a different profession. And when she started dating Dip, I thought maybe I was wrong... I let it go."

"Dip," I echoed, the name rolling off my tongue like a stranger's. That name suddenly felt like a foreign wound. Seventeen years-she had loved me for seventeen years... and still, she had dated someone else. For six whole months. My mind spun in confusion and helplessness.

"What are you thinking?" Mom's voice gently pulled me out of that storm.
"I don't know, Mom," I said, my voice cracking with a strange blend of ache and softness. "Nothing makes sense right now."

And then, she asked something I hadn't even thought to ask myself.
"If Alisha loves you... then why are you in so much pain?"

Her question hit me like a wave I wasn't ready for. I blinked at her, unsure, lost.
"Tell me," she said again, watching me with piercing clarity. "Are you hurting because she loves you... or because you don't love her back?"

I didn't even hesitate. "I... I don't know. I just know that when I think of her pain, it becomes mine too."

She exhaled slowly. Then softly asked, "Then who is Shreya to you?"
That... that made me stand up.
The very sound of her name unsettled something in me. I stood, almost on reflex. Mom rose too, gently placing her hands on my shoulders.

"Are you caught between two people, Jayant?" she asked, her voice calm but heavy with meaning.

"No," I said quickly, turning to her. "Alisha... she's my best friend. I just... I always want her to be happy. That's it. And Shreya..."

She tilted her head, studying me. "What is Shreya to you?"
I looked down. "I don't have an answer for that," I whispered.

"Yes, you do," she said, her eyes steady on mine. "So tell me. Say it."
I took a long breath. "I do love Alisha, Mom... but not like the way you love Dad."

She gently guided me to sit, resting both her hands on my shoulders.
"And what kind of love do your father and I share?" she asked.

I removed her hand from my shoulder, but not in resistance-more like reverence. I took her hand in mine instead and said, "The kind where there's romance, friendship, love... but above all, respect. Deep respect for each other."

She nodded thoughtfully. "You and Alisha have all of that too-except maybe the romance. But you know, that usually comes last in relationships... not first."

I looked at her, caught in the quiet depth of her words. My heart stirred, uncertain yet moved.

Her voice lingered in the room like a soft echo, "So maybe... just maybe, you're not as far from love as you think."
---
"No, Mom... I never thought of Alisha that way," I said, my voice sharp, clear, and unwavering.
"But this isn't even about me anymore, is it?" I continued, the words tumbling out of me with an ache I couldn't contain.
"It's about her... Alisha. The one I promised I'd always keep happy. The one I swore I'd protect from pain. And yet... I'm the one who's hurt her the most."

Mom's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts-calm, but firm like a blade slicing through fog. "And why do you think you hurt her... the most?"

Her question hit something deep in me. "Because I chose Shreya," I said, almost spitting out the name as guilt knotted in my chest. "imagine how much pain she must've been holding inside when she told me to go to Shreya.-" my voice cracked now, sorrow leaking into every word, "Even after she never said it, I know she saw me as her love story... and I told her about mine."

I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to ease the pressure building behind my eyes.

Mom was quiet for a moment, then asked a question that made my heart still.
"So... are you regretting choosing Shreya?"

I looked up at her sharply, almost wounded. "Why would you ask me that?" My voice rose, fragile and defensive. "That only makes me feel worse..."

She gently placed her hand on my head, the way she used to when I was a child, terrified of the dark. "I'm not trying to hurt you," she said softly. "I'm asking these questions to clear the fog in your heart. To help you understand what you're really feeling."

I sighed deeply. A long, weary breath from somewhere inside me that hadn't known peace in days.

"If I'm being honest," I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur, "I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore. Everything's just... tangled. Messy. Like a thousand wires crossing in my chest. Right now, I don't know what I think about Shreya. About Alisha. About... any of it."

And in that moment, with Mom's hand still resting gently on my head, I felt like a boy again-lost, aching, and desperately searching for the right path in a story that had stopped making sense.

From the other end of the room, Dad's voice rang out-clear, certain, and somehow startlingly simple.
"If it's really that hard, then close your eyes," he said. "The face that appears first... that's the one you love."

I turned toward him, surprised. Had he been listening to everything?
Without a word, he walked over and sat beside us. There was no judgment in his eyes-just quiet understanding.

"That's not how it works, Papa," I said, almost instinctively.
Dad smiled faintly, calm as ever. "Of course it works, son. You just have to try it."

"You don't get it," I snapped, more sharply than I intended. There was a cold edge to my voice now.
I looked at both of them-Mom and Dad-and finally spoke aloud the confusion clawing at my insides.
"Like Mom said... romance, love, friendship, and respect-they're all there with Shreya. All four. But with Alisha... only three. There's a deep bond, not romantic-just real. Love without romance? What kind of love is that?"

Dad chuckled softly and shook his head, as if I had missed something obvious. "Son, sometimes even when all 36 qualities align perfectly, two people still can't make it work. And sometimes... people with none of those 'matching traits' end up building a life together. Relationships aren't about perfection-they're about balance. A little bit of you, a little bit of her. That's how it works. You understand?"

I stared at him, baffled, trying to process his words. Mom looked just as confused. She gave him a sideways glance and muttered, "What are you even saying?"

I nodded in agreement. "I don't get it, Dad."
But he wasn't done. His voice softened, dipped in warmth. "Romance isn't just about passion or intimacy. It's not always about the big things. Sometimes... it lives in the little gestures. The way someone looks at you with care. The way they ask how your day was, even if they already know. A gentle word, a quiet presence. That's romance too, son. Maybe you just haven't noticed it yet. Ask Alisha... she'll show you."

His words settled into me like a slow-burning fire, quiet but impossible to ignore. Was he right?
Had I been blind to something that was always there?

Because the truth was-I had never felt that way with Alisha. At least, not in the obvious, heart-racing way I thought love was supposed to feel. But maybe... maybe I'd misunderstood what love really looks like. Maybe I'd mistaken comfort and quiet affection for something less.
And now I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"We are platonic. Love means nothing without intimacy," I said clearly, trying to convince not just them-but myself too.
Dad took a quiet breath, his voice gentle yet firm.
"Maybe love without intimacy isn't the best way to experience the world's most beautiful feeling... but maybe, it's not as incomplete as you think."

I stared at him, frustrated. Why does he always do this? Every word from him wasn't solving anything-it was only tangling me deeper into this knot of confusion.
"Why, Dad? Why are you doing this? You're not helping me. You're making it worse," I snapped.

Suddenly, Dad raised his voice, a rare moment of sharpness.
"Then tell me-what is your problem?"
I went quiet. After all this time, all these conversations... they still didn't know?
"Alisha's hurt... because of me. And I'm in pain watching that."

Silence fell like a curtain. Both of them looked at me, the weight of my words sinking in. Then Mom spoke softly.
"So, you don't want her to be hurt?"
Dad added right after,
"Then you'll have to love her, son."
Their eyes turned toward me again. Dad's voice dropped lower, more intimate. "And... do you love her?"

I said nothing.
That's when Mom jumped in, her words quick and sharp, "But you love Shreya, don't you? She knows about this... this confusion?"

I couldn't tell them the truth. That it was Shreya who pointed it out to me. That we fought-badly. That I hurt her too. I couldn't say it out loud.

I stayed silent, but their eyes held me in place, searching me for answers.
The pain I came home with was now replaced by a fog of uncertainty. I didn't know who I loved anymore.
Then, almost as a whisper to myself, I said- "I choose Alisha."

They were stunned. Neither of them spoke for a moment. And I didn't explain why-not the promise I made to myself, or to Dad, not even the way my chest clenched when I imagined hurting her again.

I just knew one thing: I couldn't live happily by hurting her. Even if I was with someone, I once thought I loved.

The room felt heavy with silence. I took out my phone and checked it out of habit. A notification blinked on the screen-Flight Confirmation. It had come in a while ago. Shreya had booked the ticket from my ID.
Her flight was in a few hours.
Panic surged through me. I shot up from my seat. "No..."

Both Mom and Dad looked up, startled.
"What happened, beta?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have time. I rushed out of the house, straight toward the airport.

No, no, Shreya... you can't leave like this. Not like this. You can't leave me behind.
My heart thudded painfully with every step. I had taken so much from her-without even realizing it. I didn't even let her finish that night. And now she was just... leaving.

Even though I had just chosen Alisha... the thought of losing Shreya was slicing through me.

By the time I reached the airport, my mind was racing. My emotions were chaos. But then I saw her.
She was sitting in the waiting area, arms crossed, pretending not to look up. But I knew-she was waiting for me.
She wanted me to come. To say sorry. To ask her to stay.

I took a step toward her. But suddenly, Alisha's face flashed in my mind. I stopped. Just like that, my feet froze.
Why does she feel like a stranger now?
Just this morning, she was the love of my life.

I closed my eyes, trying to understand.
I tried Dad's trick.

One image. One face. Who do I see?

A girl... wearing bangles... long hair flowing behind her, running away from me in the mist.
And I was chasing her. She turned back... and her face came into focus.

I opened my eyes.

I hadn't expected that face.

And then... Shreya saw me.

Her smile broke into tears. That mix she does-laughing and crying all at once. She always looks so beautiful when she does that.

"Say 'I love you too'... before we start fighting again," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn't respond. Not with words, not with anger. I was too exhausted. All I wanted was to rest-in her arms.
I moved toward her.
She reached to hug me.
I stopped her.
Because I knew... if she held me now, I wouldn't have the strength to let go.
"Say it," she whispered again, fragile and hopeful.
"Everything will be okay..."
But I took a step back.
I avoided her eyes, then said softly-
"This won't work."

And with a voice stripped of all emotion, I added-
"I only came to return your ring."

She looked confused for a second, maybe expecting me to return the ring she had left in my room.

But I reached for my finger. The one she had placed the engagement ring on.

She cried as I slid it off. Maybe she wanted to stop me. Maybe I wanted her to. But I still did it. Slowly. With trembling fingers.

I placed it in her hand, then gently wrapped my arms around her.

Leaning into her ear, I whispered through the ache in my throat-

"Take care of yourself, my love. Goodbye. Forever."

She broke.
Tears poured down her cheeks.
I had no right to stop them. I had just given up that right. My eyes welled up too, but I held it together-barely. There was more I wanted to say.
But this-this was the only truth left.
Goodbye. Forever.
I turned and began to walk away.
Slowly, painfully, her hand slipped out of mine.

"Jayant... Jayant, stop!" she called behind me.

But I didn't stop.

Because if I did-I knew I'd never leave.

Outside the terminal, I waited, just to be sure. For her flight to take off.

She wiped her tears. Took a moment. And boarded the flight.

"That's my girl," I whispered with a bittersweet smile.
And then I walked away.
Into the night.
Into silence.
Into the ache that would follow me forever.
---
I didn't know what I was doing anymore. Just a few hours ago, I had asked a girl to marry me-now, I was walking away from her, severing every tie we had. One truth from Alisha had collapsed my entire world like a house of cards.

If only... if only Alisha had told me earlier, then maybe Shreya wouldn't have had to endure all that pain. Maybe none of this would've happened.

Now, all I'm left with are "what ifs."

I've lost Shreya.
Forever.

And I lost her... for Alisha.

I went straight to my apartment. It looked exactly like my life-shattered, chaotic, abandoned.

Shreya's things were no longer there.
But her presence... it haunted every corner.

On the desk, I saw the engagement ring she had left behind. I reached out to pick it up, but my hand froze in the air. I couldn't touch it. I couldn't bear to. My fingers brushed against the edge of the desk instead, knocking off the clothes piled there.

Without thinking, I grabbed the vase next to me and smashed it against the floor.

Everything around me reminded me of her.

I ripped the bedsheet off the mattress and threw it aside. I didn't know how many things I broke in those moments of rage-photo frames, cushions, memories. I let the chaos consume me.

And then... I just sank to the floor, right there in the middle of it all, and cried.

Cried like I never had before.

I don't know how long I sat there, but when I wiped my tears and stood up, something inside me whispered-
"Get up, Jayant. You have a lot to fix."
I stood, steadied myself, walked out of my wrecked apartment, and sat in my car.
---
I drove slowly through the empty streets, the silence of the early morning wrapping around me like a blanket of guilt. It was 4 AM. Sleep felt like a distant dream-how could I possibly rest when my entire world had been flipped upside down?

When I rang the doorbell at Alisha's house, her father opened the door, still half-asleep, his eyes squinting against the dim light. Tonight, I've declared war on sleep-no one's getting a peaceful night.
"Jayant... you... at this hour?" he murmured, clearly confused. Before he could finish, I gently interrupted him. "Is Alisha okay, Uncle?"

He looked at me with a strange expression-half suspicion, half concern. "Shouldn't you be the one telling me that?"
He didn't exactly invite me in, but I found myself stepping inside anyway, following his slow steps like a shadow.
"Please, just tell me... she's alright, isn't she?" I asked, my voice barely holding itself together.

He sighed, his tone growing soft with worry. "She came home late last night... didn't speak to anyone. Just locked herself in her room and went to bed. Looked upset. Did something happen at the party?"

So she hadn't told him. About the chaos. About everything.
I didn't have the heart to explain either. "Nothing, Uncle... I was just... a little worried about her."

He raised an eyebrow, teasing me despite the hour. "Worried enough to show up at 4 in the morning?"

I managed a tired smile. "For Alisha, I'm always available."

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "She's asleep. No chance she'll wake up now."

I hesitated a moment before asking, "Can I... can I just see her? Just for a second?"
He looked me up and down, clearly judging the sincerity in my eyes, or maybe just amused by the desperation in them. "This late? No chance," he said flatly.

I gave him my best sulky face. "Uncle, come on... it's not late, it's early. It's almost five already. Please?"
He didn't answer. Just turned toward his room, ignoring me.
I trailed behind him, hands folded, whispering, "Please... please..."
He opened his wardrobe without a word and tossed me a t-shirt. "Change. You look like hell. Is that ketchup on your shirt?"

I caught it mid-air, glancing down at the mess on my clothes. There was a dark, red stain-definitely not ketchup. My heart skipped. Blood?
I quickly checked my hand and noticed a small cut, dried blood around it. Relief. At least it wasn't Shreya's.

Once I changed into the fresh t-shirt, I made my way to Alisha's room. I hadn't even touched the door when Uncle's voice echoed behind me in a firm tone, "Leave the door open."

I nodded and gently pushed it open, leaving it ajar just like he said.
There she was. Sleeping. Peacefully.
Or at least trying to.
I could tell by the tear stains dried on her cheeks, the way her pillow was still damp... she'd cried herself to sleep. Probably after struggling for hours to quiet her heart.

I walked to her side and lay down beside her, not touching, just close enough to feel her presence. My eyes stayed on her face-so vulnerable, so hurt. I wanted to take away every ounce of her pain, rewind everything, undo the damage I'd caused.

In my mind, I whispered a thousand apologies.
I'm sorry, Alisha. I'm so, so sorry.

And I stayed like that, watching her breathe, hoping that maybe, somehow, she'd feel my pain through the silence.
---
She slowly opened her eyes-still hazy with sleep. Her voice came out in a drowsy whisper.
"Jayant... you?"
I leaned closer and answered gently, "Yes, Alisha. It's me."
She didn't open her eyes fully, just murmured again in that same soft, sleepy tone, "Since when did you start getting so angry without hearing the full story?"

I sighed, guilt tightening my chest. "I know... I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I'm sorry. But in that moment, everything I was hearing-about you, about everyone-it just kept piling up. I was overwhelmed."

She didn't respond with anger or defensiveness. Instead, she whispered my name, as if it was a lullaby she'd held on her tongue all night.
"Jayant... Jayant..."
"Yes, I'm right here," I said, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.
"Jayant... will you stroke my head? Like you used to... It's been years since you did that..."

My heart clenched at the innocence in her request. I placed my hand softly on her head and began to gently caress her hair, my fingers moving in a rhythm only we knew.
Then I asked, almost in a breath, "Why didn't you tell me, Alisha?"

She remained silent for a moment, her eyes still closed, then smiled faintly.
"What didn't I tell you, Jayant?"
"You know what I mean..."

She let out a small exhale, her voice so quiet it almost faded into the silence of the room.
"Sometimes... to hide just one truth... we end up hiding a thousand others."

That one sentence held so much weight, it sank into me like an anchor. I leaned closer, my voice now trembling with frustration and helplessness.
"But why, Alisha? Why did you hide anything at all? Just tell me..."

But she was quiet again. Her breathing had deepened-she had slipped back into sleep. I wanted to ask more, wanted answers, wanted to shake her awake and beg her not to leave me in the dark.
"And you thought everything would be fine if you left without even telling me?" I whispered to her sleeping form. "How could you even think that?"

Still, no reply. She was asleep. Peaceful now. And maybe, just maybe, my presence beside her gave her the same comfort her words had given me.
I didn't even realize when sleep crept up on me too. After a night of roaming the streets in confusion, anger, and heartbreak, I had finally found some calm.

Lying next to her, listening to the rhythm of her breathing, I felt the storm inside me settle. The eyes that had fought sleep all night finally gave in.
Next to Alisha... I could rest.
___________________________________________🫶🫶

Hlo lovely readers ❤️
I’ve been thinking a lot about this chapter, because I’m not entirely sure about the example I gave and what I said about love.
So, please forgive me if I made any mistake in explaining it.

And the same confusion goes for the upcoming chapter as well.

Love You
Nima❤️