Title: “Was I Ever His?”
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Part 1: The First Time
I met him at my favorite café.
No dramatic entry. No slow motion. No music playing in the background.
He just walked in — black hoodie, tired eyes, calm steps.
I thought I’d ignore him like I usually do. But for some reason, my eyes stayed with him.
He walked up to my table and asked,
“Is this chair taken?”
I nodded no.
He sat.
We didn’t talk.
He had his coffee, I had mine. And in that quiet corner, something settled between us — unspoken.
As he got up to leave, he turned slightly and said,
“You have a kind of silence around you… peaceful, not empty.”
I didn’t sleep much that night. And for the first time in months… I didn’t feel heavy.
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Part 2: His name was Abeer
I saw him again a week later. Same café. Same corner.
I smiled and asked, “Do you come here often?”
He said, “Not really. Just… hoping you’d be here.”
His name was Abeer. And there was something different about him.
He didn’t try to impress me. He didn’t flirt. He just… listened. Completely. As if my words mattered.
When I told him I had trust issues — that people often use and leave — he said,
“I won’t leave. Unless you ask me to.”
That night, I cried.
Because I couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at me without expecting anything in return.
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Part 3: Whatever it was… it was real
We were never a “thing.” No labels. No declarations.
No "I love you" or promises.
But he showed up. On important days. Without reminders.
He once left a note before my big exam:
"You’re not just a good student. You’re a good person."
He brought chocolates for my mother — just because “she raised someone so strong.”
I was scared though. Love always felt heavy to me. Because my past had taught me —
people love you until it’s inconvenient. Then they leave.
But still, I met him. With all my fears. He stayed. Still, steady, patient.
Until one day... I broke us.
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Part 4: And then he left
That day, Abeer looked straight at me and said,
“You’re pulling away, Aanya.”
I didn’t deny it.
I didn’t say anything.
Because the truth is — I wasn’t ready.
Love had never felt this safe.
And safe things… they scare me. Because what if you lose the only good thing you ever had?
He didn’t fight. He didn’t beg.
He just asked one last time,
“If I told you I loved you… would you run?”
Tears welled in my eyes. And I whispered,
“I’m running… because you do.”
And he left.
No anger. No drama. Just a quiet smile. As if he knew… I didn’t believe I deserved him.
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Part 5: Years later…
It’s been two years now.
Sometimes, I still go back to that café. Same seat. Same time.
Not because I hope to see him.
But because that’s where I last felt... whole.
Life moved on. New people, new goals, a new version of me.
But every night, when I face myself in the mirror… the same question remains:
“Was I ever his?”
Maybe not.
But I do know this — he gave me the kind of love I never asked for.
A quiet, steady, selfless kind of love.
And when he left, he didn’t just leave me —
He left a space inside me I can’t seem to fill.
He left belief in kindness. He left a silence that still feels safe.
And he left a wound… so deep, that healing feels like forgetting him.
And I don’t want to forget.
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“He came without reason… and left without blame. Maybe that’s why forgetting him has never been an option.”
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