16. I love you

☆ तेरे नैना राहें सज़ा दे, तेरे नैना दूरी मिटा दे

तेरे नैना धड़कन को बढ़ा दे, तेरे नैना पलकों में समा ले

वल्लाह, जख्म पे मरहम तेरे नैना, फूलों पे शबनम तेरे नैना

जाग भूले भूले तेरे नैना, दिल च्छुले च्छुले तेरे नैना

तेरे नैनो के आयेज तो तारे भी शरमाये ☆

VEDA ROY

He hasn’t left.

It’s been a whole night. A whole day. And still, Aadvik stands there in the cold, unmoving, relentless. The January wind bites through his coat, but he doesn’t seem to care. Maybe he deserves to freeze. Maybe he deserves to suffer the way I did.

I stand on my balcony, hidden behind the shadows, watching him. My hands tremble against the railing, my breath uneven. I tell myself I hate him. I tell myself I feel nothing.

But my heart is betraying me.

"Veda," his voice rises through the stillness. Hoarse. Desperate. "Please… just listen to me."

I close my eyes. No. I can’t.

But I can’t stop remembering, either.

The way he used to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, murmuring soft things only meant for me. The way he kissed my forehead like I was something precious. The way his arms felt like home, even when the world was burning around me.

He made a mistake. A mistake so big it shattered me. I should hold on to that pain. I should let it keep me standing.

"Veda," his voice cracks this time. "I’m sorry. I—God, I’m sorry."

Tears blur my vision. I force myself to look down at him, at the man who was once mine. His eyes are filled with something raw, something pleading. I grip the railing tighter. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to feel this ache in my chest, this unbearable pull toward him.

"Go away, Aadvik," I whisper. It takes everything in me to say it.

He flinches. For the first time, he looks like he might actually give up. He nods once, shoulders slumping, then turns away. One step. Two.

Each step feels like a knife slicing through me.

He’s leaving.

This is what I wanted, isn’t it?

Then why does it feel like my heart is breaking all over again?

"Aadvik—!" The word escapes me before I can stop it. A sob, a prayer, a surrender.

He freezes. Turns back. His eyes meet mine, and in them, I see everything—love, regret, pain, and hope, still flickering despite everything.

And then I’m running. Down the stairs, through the cold air, straight to him.

The moment I reach him, his arms are already around me, pulling me in, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. My fists hit his chest weakly, tears spilling onto his coat.

"I hate you," I whisper, but my voice is broken, trembling.

"I know," he breathes against my hair. "But I love you. And I swear, I will spend the rest of my life making this right."

I don’t know if I can forgive him. I don’t know if love is enough to mend what’s broken.

But right now, in his arms, I can’t bring myself to let go. He has always been my love, since school days to college.

He was the kryptonite to my heart, the gasoline to my burning heart.

I should push him away. I should step back and remind myself why I can’t do this. But instead, my fingers clutch at his coat, my body trembling against his warmth.

Aadvik holds me like I’m something fragile, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he moves too fast. His breath is uneven against my hair, his arms tight around me, but it only fuels the fire inside me. The anger, the betrayal, the pain—it all comes rushing back, and suddenly, I can’t stay silent anymore.

I shove him back. Hard.

I shove him away, my chest heaving. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me, Aadvik?" My voice comes out in a ragged whisper, but the pain behind it is deafening.

He doesn’t answer. He just stands there, letting me unleash the storm I’ve buried for too long.

"You broke me." My voice cracks, my fists clenching at my sides. "You made me believe in you. You made me feel safe, made me think that—for once—someone actually saw me, someone actually cared. And then you—" My breath shudders as a sob escapes. "Then you destroyed everything."

Aadvik closes his eyes like my words are daggers piercing his skin. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t.

"You left me to suffer," I whisper, my throat burning. "Do you know how many nights I spent staring at the ceiling, wondering what I did wrong? Wondering why I was never enough for you?" My vision blurs with tears. "Do you know how many times I hated myself, Aadvik? How many times I wished I had never met you?"

His breathing stutters. His eyes glisten under the dim streetlight, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

"You wrecked me," I choke, the pain clawing at my chest. "And you didn’t even look back."

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

Then, he moves. Slowly, hesitantly. His hands lift, and before I can step away, his fingers find my face.

Warm. Familiar. Too familiar.

His thumbs graze my cheekbones, wiping away my tears so gently that it only makes me cry harder. His touch is trembling, almost reverent, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter beneath his fingers. Like he’s afraid he’s already broken me beyond repair.

"I know," he breathes, voice hoarse. "And I hate myself for it, Veda." His hands linger on my skin, his touch pleading. "I hate what I did to you. I hate that I let you suffer alone."

His hands slowly fall away, slipping from my skin like he’s letting go of something he never deserved to hold in the first place. And then, right there, on the lonely midnight road, Aadvik sinks down.

He sits on the asphalt, elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low. He looks so lost. So shattered. So painfully unlike the man I once knew.

A part of me wants to turn around, to walk away, to leave him with the pain he left me in.

But I can’t move.

Because no matter how much I want to hate him, no matter how much I want to erase the love I once felt—maybe still feel—I can’t.

And that realization destroys me more than anything else ever could.

"

"I—Veda—Veda yaar, samajh," his voice trembles, hoarse and desperate. "Meri condition theek nahi hai… main pagal ho gaya hoon."

I feel my stomach twist. The Aadvik standing before me is not the man I knew—arrogant, unshaken, unreadable. No. This Aadvik is raw, stripped of his walls, barely holding himself together.

"Jo bhi hua mere saath… nau saal pehle…" He swallows hard, his head dropping as if the weight of his words is too much to bear. "It was so traumatizing that I—" His breath shudders, and then— "I planned a suicide."

The world stops.

I freeze, my heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

No. No, he can’t mean that.

My body moves on its own. I reach for him, desperate to hold him, to erase the pain in his voice, but before I can, he lifts a hand—stopping me.

I watch, helpless, as he shakes his head. "Let me finish," he whispers.

I don’t know how I manage to nod, but I do.

"I got PTSD, Veda," he admits, his voice so quiet I almost miss it. "Mera dimaag kharab rehne laga… har din ek naya nightmare tha. I couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe. Everything felt like a loop of pain. And then one day… I stood on a bridge, staring down at the water, knowing this was it. Knowing I couldn’t do it anymore."

A sob gets trapped in my throat. My hands tremble at my sides, my nails digging into my palms to stop myself from breaking.

"But then I remembered you."

His words knock the breath out of me.

"You," he whispers, his lips barely forming the word. "Chanda."

The nickname—soft, familiar, filled with everything we once had—shatters me.

"I remembered our school fights, the way you’d yell at me for never doing my homework but still let me copy yours." A hollow chuckle escapes him, but there’s no real joy in it. "The way you’d steal my chocolates but act like I owed you more."

Tears slip down my cheeks.

"Then college… late-night drives, dumb arguments, that cheap food stall where we had our first date because I wanted to impress you but couldn’t afford anything better." His voice cracks. "And I realized—every memory I held onto, every single one that made life worth living… you were in all of them."

I can’t take it anymore.

"Aadvik," I whisper, my voice breaking.

His head lifts, and for the first time in so long, our eyes meet—his hollow, exhausted ones staring into my teary, shattered ones.

I should still be angry. I should still hate him.

But how do I hate someone who was standing at the edge of life and still found his way back… because of me?

Aadvik looks at me, a broken smile stretching across his lips, but his eyes—his eyes hold a pain so deep, so raw, it feels like it could drown me.

"I thought…" His voice trembles, barely above a whisper. "I thought I'd at least survive this cruel world by being with you."

A lump forms in my throat.

"But you chose to disappear, you were never seen, your parents hated me since i was the bad influence especially for you, i couldn't ask them, i asked my friends but they didnt knew too, from days to nights, from months to years, i spent them all thinking and finding you then about two-three years after you went missing, i saw you on T.V--that you were in USA."

His smile falters, his lips quivering, and then I see it—the tears welling up, brimming at the edge of his lashes, threatening to spill.

I can’t breathe.

Because this isn’t the Aadvik I knew. This isn’t the man who always carried himself with arrogance, who always had a smirk ready, who always pretended like nothing could touch him, i always saw the Aadvik, the golden boy, everyone's idol, perfect in everything.

This is the Aadvik who is breaking right in front of me. The one who is finally letting me see the weight he’s been carrying, the storm inside him that he never let anyone witness.

I have known him for years, yet today, he felt like a stranger. At the mere second, i realized that I always saw what he wanted me to see.

I want to say something. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I never wanted to leave, that I never stopped thinking about him.

But my voice refuses to come.

So I do the only thing I can.

I reach for him.

My hands find his face, trembling fingers brushing against his damp cheeks, wiping away the tears he never let himself shed before.

And for the first time, Aadvik doesn’t stop me. He just closes his eyes, leaning into my touch like he’s been starving for it.

Like I’m the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

Aadvik’s breath is shaky, his fingers barely grazing my wrists as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear again. His eyes, filled with unshed tears, hold a thousand emotions—regret, longing, love.

And then, softly, brokenly, he smiles.

"I love you, Chanda"

The words hit me like a tidal wave, knocking the air from my lungs.

Before I can react, he leans in, his forehead pressing against mine, his warmth seeping into me despite the cold night air. I can feel his breath, uneven and desperate, fanning against my skin.

I close my eyes.

I should push him away. I should remind myself of all the reasons why I shouldn’t believe him. But in this moment, with his hands hesitantly holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, I can’t.

A sob escapes me, my fingers gripping his coat like if I let go, he’ll slip away forever.

"You left me," I whisper, my voice breaking. "You disappeared first, Aadvik."

His grip on me tightens, and he shakes his head against mine. "I know," he breathes. "I know, Chanda. And I swear, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it right. I know, you dont forgive me, but i also know that you cant live without me, am i wrong? I missed you, i missed your eyes, i missed the dates, the arguments, the sleepovers, I missed you." He finally looks up, our gazes meet, I gulp, but then his eyes wander from my eyes to my hair then back to my eyes.

"Your curls are back, I think I've missed them," He says as he ruffles my hair "Sameer ki shaadi me tumne straight karaya tha na, tumpe bilkul suit nahi kar raha tha!" He chuckled, and stood up and offering me a hand.

Because no matter how much it hurts—no matter how much I want to deny it—he’s still the only person my heart has ever belonged to.

I love him.