Chapter 42

Abhimanyu

She didn’t leave.

Even after I gave her nothing. Even after I told her I had always been alone.

She still stayed.

I didn’t know how to handle that.

I wasn’t used to people staying.

My whole life had been a series of people walking away—some by choice, some by fate. And here she was, refusing to do the same, refusing to let me drown in my own silence.

I should’ve told her to go.

I should’ve walked away first.

But for some reason, I couldn’t.

Not this time.

The weight of the past few days sat heavy on my chest, pressing down until it became unbearable. And for the first time, I felt something crack inside me.

Maybe it was the exhaustion.

Maybe it was her presence.

Maybe it was just… everything.

Before I could stop myself, I let out a shaky breath and spoke.

“It never stops hurting.”

My voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the night, it felt deafening.

She didn’t say anything. She just looked at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.

I swallowed hard and looked away. “You think you move on. You think you get better. But then one day, out of nowhere, it just—” I exhaled sharply. “It just hits you all over again.”

I felt her shift beside me, and for a second, I thought she might reach for my hand. But she didn’t. She just stayed close, listening, understanding.

And for once, I didn’t feel the need to push her away.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she said softly.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Pretending is the only thing I know how to do.”

Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t argue. She just looked at me with that same quiet determination, like she was trying to see through all the walls I had spent years building.

And somehow, I think she did.

I should’ve been scared.

I should’ve pulled back.

But instead, I found myself whispering, “I’m tired, Subhi.”

And for the first time in years, I wasn’t talking about the kind of tired that sleep could fix.