After the first fall out,
Ritvik apologized.
And not just with words — but with actions.
He messaged more.
He called more.
He told me how his day went, shared little things, showed up.
And somewhere in that sudden attention, I started to feel warm again.
Maybe I was right to give him another chance.
Maybe this is what it looks like when someone tries.
He messaged me every time he was free — morning, night, didn’t matter.
And me?
I replied. Always.
Because every beep on my phone still lit something in me.
I was still checking — still hoping — still waiting for every notification to be him.
And for a while… it was.
It felt simple. Safe. Sweet.
But I don’t know if something inside me was already broken from before…
Or if it cracked somewhere in the middle of this so-called love.
Because one evening, without even planning to, I asked:
“Why don’t you love me?”
It was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “I don’t love you. But I like you. I want to be with you.”
I paused.
Smiled.
But something in me sank.
I pushed a little more, “Why are you even with me, then?”
He replied, “At first, your face didn’t matter to me that much.”
That one line hit me in a way I didn’t expect.
Like I was… tolerable.
Not someone he wanted — just someone who fit.
Barely.
He added, “I liked your family values. I want a partner who’s respectful to elders, who’s pure… you know.”
And that’s when my thoughts spiraled.
So that’s what he liked.
Not me — the idea of me.
My manners. My upbringing. My “purity.”
Not my sarcasm. Not my sadness. Not my actual soul.
Just the shell.
Just the checklist.
And in that moment, I wondered —
If he ever met someone with better values, would he leave me without thinking twice?
It wasn’t jealousy.
It wasn’t anger.
It was the ache of realizing I might not be loved for who I am — but for what I represented.
A respectful girl. A "good" girl.
And yet… I didn’t say a word.
I didn’t tell him it hurt.
I didn’t say that something inside me dimmed that day.
I just smiled. Nodded. Laughed it off.
And tucked it all inside.
Because I didn’t want to seem sensitive. Or insecure.
Because I was scared that if I spoke my heart, he’d walk away again.
So I stayed silent.
And that’s how my overthinking began —
Not from something explosive.
But from something soft.
A whisper that said, Maybe I’m not enough just as I am.
. (ignore this my words did not reach the minimum requirement of writing but have no idea what I am writing how far must I write to reach just 500 words never knew it will be this hard to just reach 500 word still few letters left huhu.
Finally it reached 🥂)
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Updated 21 Episodes
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