FEELINGS FOR HER
I sat on the cold metal bench in the park, my elbows resting on my knees, my gaze fixed somewhere ahead where a few kids were playing—running, laughing, chasing each other like the world was simple and light and kind.
I watched them.
But I didn’t really see them.
Because my vision blurred again.
And again.
Tears streamed down my face no matter how many times I blinked, no matter how much I tried to stop it.
I didn’t even wipe them anymore.
I just let them fall.
I don’t know why I’m crying this much.
That thought repeated in my head like I could reason my way out of it.
But I couldn’t.
Because deep down—
I knew.
Vihaan would have taken her by now.
My chest tightened painfully at the thought.
If I go back now—
There will be no voice.
No complaints.
No ridiculous questions filling the air.
Just silence.
The same silence I lived with before.
The same silence I told myself I was used to.
But now—
It doesn’t feel the same.
Because now I know what it felt like when it wasn’t there.
A broken sob slipped out of me before I could stop it.
I lowered my head, shutting my eyes tightly as more tears spilled, heavier this time, uncontrollable.
Because this wasn’t just about her leaving the house.
It felt like—
She walked out of my life.
And took something with her.
Something I didn’t even realize I had given away.
My fingers curled into my palms as I tried to breathe through it, but it didn’t help.
Nothing did.
Because for the first time—
That silence I used to live in so easily…
Felt unbearable.
I pushed myself up from the bench like I was lifting the weight of my own breaking chest, wiping my face with trembling hands that were already soaked with tears, but no matter how many times I tried, the wetness refused to leave—as if even my skin had decided to remember her absence before it even truly happened.
I got on my bike without another thought, I forced my heart to harden with every passing second, repeating to myself that this was how it was meant to be, that she was never mine to keep, that silence was the only thing that truly belonged to me.
When I reached the house, the first thing my eyes searched for was his car, and when it wasn’t there, something inside me sank so deeply that I felt it echo through my bones, a quiet confirmation of the loss I had already begun mourning.
I stopped the bike in front of the house, but I didn’t get down immediately; instead, I sat there gripping the handle tightly, my eyes shutting closed as if I needed those few seconds to gather whatever was left of me, to prepare myself for the loneliness that was about to wrap around me like something permanent, something I would have to learn to breathe through all over again.
I finally stepped down and walked toward the house slowly, each step dragging against the ground like I was walking toward a life I didn’t want to return to—and then I stopped.
Because she was there.
Standing near the rose plant we had planted together.
For a moment, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing, because I had already convinced myself that she was gone, that the house was empty, that I had already lost her—and yet there she was, real and breathing and standing in front of me like nothing had changed, like she hadn’t taken something from me without even knowing it.
She turned toward me at the sound, her eyes meeting mine with the same familiarity, the same ease that I had just convinced myself I would never see again.
“Where did you go, Adithya?” she asked, her voice so normal, so untouched by the storm that had torn through me.
I didn’t answer her.
I couldn’t.
Because something inside me gave way completely, breaking under the unbearable relief of seeing her still there, of realizing that I hadn’t lost her yet, that I wasn’t walking back into an empty life just yet.
Before I could think, before I could stop myself, before I could remember that there were lines I wasn’t supposed to cross, I moved toward her—fast, desperate, like I was chasing something that was slipping away from me—and the moment I reached her, I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her with a force that came from a place I didn’t even know existed within me.
I held her tightly, almost painfully, like I was trying to make up for the loss I had already felt, like I was trying to anchor her to me so she wouldn’t disappear the moment I let go, my face burying into her shoulder as my breath broke against her skin, uneven and trembling and filled with everything I had tried so hard to suppress.
She didn’t respond.
She didn’t hold me back, didn’t return the embrace, didn’t even move—she just stood there in my arms, still and quiet, like she didn’t know what to do with the storm I had just poured onto her without warning.
That silence…
It made me pull away.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
My hands loosened around her as I stepped back, my eyes immediately searching her face, scanning every small detail as if I needed to make sure she was truly okay, that she wasn’t slipping away again into something I couldn’t reach.
“Viyana… I’m sorry,” I started, my voice uneven, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you would get triggered just by mentioning your parents—”
I stopped.
Mid-sentence.
Because I realized.
I was doing it again.
Dragging her back there.
Even now.
My lips pressed together tightly as I looked away for a second, stepping back from her as if distance would undo the damage.
“Why did your brother leave you alone like this?” I asked instead, the irritation in my voice slipping out before I could control it, because the thought of her being alone after everything that had just happened made something inside me snap.
“He wouldn’t have,” she said lightly, a small smile playing on her lips, “but he did… because we had a fight.”
I let out a slow breath, the tension in my chest easing just a little, though it didn’t fully leave.
I just stood there for a moment, looking at her.
Trying to understand her.
Failing, like always.
She turned away then, walking toward the small rose plant we had planted together, and without saying anything, she knelt down near it and gestured for me to do the same.
I hesitated for a second—
Then followed.
Kneeling down beside her quietly.
“Look… princess rose is growing,” she said softly, her finger pointing toward the tiny green shoots pushing through what was once dry, lifeless stems.
I looked at it.
Really looked this time.
The plant that had almost died…
Was growing again.
“The day you kneel in front of me is not far away, Mr. Justice Saviour,” she said, her voice light, her laughter spilling out so easily as if nothing in this world had ever broken her.
I let out a quiet chuckle, my eyes resting on the small rose plant for a moment—on those fragile green leaves fighting their way through something that had once looked completely dead—and then my gaze shifted back to her.
She looked… happy.
Too happy.
Peaceful in a way that didn’t make sense after everything I had just seen, after the way she had shattered in my hands not long ago, after the way fear had taken over her entire being like she had no control over it.
And yet here she was—smiling, giggling, teasing me like nothing had ever happened.
Such a great actor.
Because how does someone carry that much pain inside them and still smile like this?
How does someone hide something so deep, so terrifying, behind something so light, so effortless?
I couldn’t understand it.
And maybe that was what scared me the most.
I stood up slowly, brushing my hands against my jeans, and she followed right after me, her movements casual, almost careless, like the ground beneath her wasn’t fragile at all.
“You’re okay, right?” I asked, my voice quieter now, searching, almost hesitant—because I wasn’t asking about her body anymore, I was asking about something much deeper that I knew she wouldn’t answer honestly.
She looked at me immediately, that same bright expression settling on her face as she lifted her hand and gave me an energetic thumbs up.
“Completely alright,” she said.
And for a moment—
I wanted to believe her.
I really did.
Because it was easier.
Easier to accept her smile than to remember her screams.
Easier to trust her words than to face the truth hidden behind them.
I let out a slow breath, nodding slightly as if I had accepted her answer.
But somewhere inside me—
I knew.
She wasn’t alright.
Not even close.
“Did I scare you?” she asked softly, her fingers finding the sleeve of my shirt and holding onto it as if she needed something to anchor herself, her eyes lowering in a way that didn’t match the smile she had been wearing just moments ago.
I didn’t hesitate this time.
“I swear… I was terrified,” I said honestly, my voice carrying the weight of it, because hiding it felt pointless—because she deserved to know that what happened wasn’t small, wasn’t something I could just brush away.
Her grip on my sleeve tightened slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I frowned immediately.
“Don’t say sorry,” I said, my tone softer now but firm in a way I didn’t even plan. “Please don’t apologize for showing emotions.”
She went quiet after that.
Completely quiet.
But she didn’t let go.
Her fingers still held onto my sleeve, gently and for some reason I didn’t move.
Didn’t pull away.
I just let her hold on.
“I’m hungry,” she said suddenly, her voice lighter now, like she had shifted away from everything that just happened as easily as she always did.
A small chuckle escaped me despite everything.
“Yeah… I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “I completely forgot about that.”
We walked into the house together, her fingers still loosely holding onto my sleeve as if she hadn’t fully decided to let go yet, and I didn’t say anything about it—I just let it be—before I moved straight into the kitchen, needing something to do, something normal to hold onto after everything that had just happened.
She hopped onto the counter like she always did.
“What fight did you have with your brother?” I asked, my voice steady but my mind anything but, as I picked up the knife and started chopping the vegetables, focusing more on the rhythm than the actual task.
“He’s asking me to leave this house, Adithya,” she said simply.
The knife paused mid-air for a fraction of a second.
I didn’t look at her immediately.
Instead, I picked up a carrot, washed it quickly, peeled it with more force than necessary, and then handed it to her.
“Eat this,” I said quietly, placing it in her hand. “At least chew on something until I cook.”
She took it without protest, biting into it casually, like the words she had just said didn’t carry the weight they actually did.
My grip on the knife tightened slightly as I resumed chopping, the sound of it hitting the board a little sharper now.
“And?” I asked after a moment, my tone controlled, even though my chest wasn’t. “What did you say?”
“I told him I’m not going with him,” she said, her voice calm, almost careless.
The knife in my hand slowed.
“Why?” I asked, my tone quieter now, not pushing, just… needing to know.
“I didn’t prepare myself to leave this place,” she said.
Something in my chest loosened so suddenly that I had to look away, pretending to focus on the vegetables in front of me as I let out a slow breath.
She wasn’t leaving.
Not yet.
“But…” she added after a second, taking another bite of the carrot.
My hand stilled again.
“But he warned me that if something like this happens again, he’s surely taking me back to our house.”
I swallowed hard, my jaw tightening slightly as I stared at the half-cut vegetables in front of me.
I resumed cutting slowly, the rhythm not as steady as before.
“Not gonna leave you until this one year gets completed,” she said, her voice carrying that familiar stubbornness, like she had just thrown a challenge at fate itself, like she was daring anything to separate her from this place before time allowed it.
I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
Because if I did—
I knew something in my expression would give me away.
So I just turned back to the counter, picking up the knife again, forcing my hands to continue what they were doing, even though my mind had completely drifted elsewhere.
I need to prepare myself.
I need to prepare myself to face her absence.
Because no matter how much she says she will stay…
No matter how much she laughs and acts like everything is under her control…
Her brother’s words were still there.
And maybe he was right.
Because what was I even feeling right now?
I tightened my grip on the knife slightly, my gaze fixed on the vegetables I wasn’t really seeing.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She wasn’t supposed to become someone important.
She was supposed to be temporary—
A responsibility.
A problem.
A situation I had to deal with.
Not… this.
Not someone whose absence I was already fearing before it even happened.
I let out a quiet breath, my chest tightening as the realization finally settled, slow and undeniable.
I think…
I’m getting feelings for her.