CHAPTER LXVIII
"The Words We Couldn't Say"
The morning sun was gentle, but it did little to ease the storm inside me.
As I stepped out of Hannah's apartment — out of the warmth, the safety, and the fleeting sense of belonging — I found myself face-to-face with the reality I had tried so hard to delay.
Mahi's expression was anything but soft. Her brows were furrowed, arms crossed, and her voice — though calm — was laced with frustration that only a worried friend could carry.
> "Sam, what is this?" she asked, her tone sharp.
"You came here to meet Mon… and instead, you stayed at a stranger's house? Do you even realize how reckless that is?"
Her words stung, but not because she was wrong — but because I didn't know how to explain that for the first time in days, that "stranger's house" had felt more like home than any place I'd known in a long while.
I kept my voice steady.
> "Mon was… busy," I said.
"I didn't think it was the right time to see her."
Aarvi, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. Her eyes weren't angry like Mahi's — they were concerned. Disappointed, maybe.
> "Sam," she said quietly.
"Mon's father's elder brother passed away two days ago. Her entire family has been at the funeral. She wasn't avoiding you — she's just been dealing with a lot."
"And even in the middle of all that… she still came looking for you."
My chest tightened.
The words hit me like a sudden gust of wind — knocking down everything I'd convinced myself to believe.
Mon hadn't been laughing in a garden with Ashwin.
She hadn't ignored me.
She hadn't lied.
She had just been… grieving. Struggling. Trying.
And I hadn't even given her a chance.
Mahi stepped forward again, her voice softer this time, but still firm.
> "Don't you think you misjudged her, Sam? We all have bad moments — but what you did… walking away, assuming the worst — that wasn't fair."
I looked away.
I couldn't meet their eyes — not because I didn't have something to say, but because I didn't have anything that could justify the ache I had been drowning in.
> "Mahi," I said quietly, "just because something feels wrong to you — or right to you — doesn't mean that's the ultimate truth. Maybe what you think is wrong… is the only way I knew how to survive."
There was silence after that. Heavy. Awkward.
And then, Mon stepped forward.
She didn't say a word at first. She just looked at me — really looked at me — as if trying to read all the things I wasn't saying out loud.
And then, without warning…
She hugged me.
Tightly. Desperately. As if she hadn't been able to breathe properly since I left.
> "Sam," she whispered into my ear, her voice cracking,
"What's happening to us?"
"Even a month ago, you started pulling away. You wouldn't talk to me properly. And now…"
She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.
Her gaze was full of confusion. Hurt. Longing. And something even deeper than all of that — fear.
> "Now you flinch at my name. You turn away when I speak. You get irritated when people talk about me.
Sam… what happened?"
I swallowed hard.
Every part of me wanted to fall into her arms. To cry. To scream. To tell her how lost I'd been.
But I couldn't.
Because that ache… that memory of what I thought I saw… what I thought I knew… still lingered like a shadow between us.
So I gently stepped back.
Not because I didn't care.
But because I didn't know how to handle caring anymore.
Mon looked at me, hurt flashing through her eyes again.
But she didn't press. She didn't ask again. Maybe she already knew that whatever I was carrying… I wasn't ready to share it yet.
And in that silence, between all that was said and unsaid, something cracked in me.
Not broken.
Just… open.
Open enough to finally admit:
> This wasn't about blame. This was about healing.
And sometimes, healing needs space… even from the people we love the most.
"The Hand I Let Go"
Her hand was still in mine.
Warm. Familiar. A thousand memories tied into a single touch.
But slowly… I could feel myself slipping away.
My fingers began to loosen.
And my heart?
It screamed.
> "Hold on. Please — hold on to her. Don't let her go. Don't let her become someone else's."
But I ignored it.
I ignored my own heart.
Because sometimes, loving someone means letting them choose what makes them happy — even if that choice doesn't include you.
So I did the hardest thing I've ever done.
I pulled my hand away.
From hers.
From us.
And with that one small motion, it felt like I had torn away a part of myself.
I turned, walked away a few steps, and stood by the edge of the road — waiting for the bus. For a way out. For escape.
But nothing inside me was quiet.
Behind me, I could feel her watching.
At first, Mon didn't say anything. She just stood there — perhaps stunned. Or maybe… trying to understand what had just happened.
But then, her footsteps approached.
And her voice broke the air between us.
> "Is this because of that girl?" she asked sharply.
"The one you were staying with? Or is it Malvika again?"
I turned slightly, meeting her eyes — and saw something in them I hadn't seen before.
Jealousy. Anger. Pain.
But mostly… desperation.
> "Who is it now, Sam?" she demanded.
"Who do you like this time? Is this all a game to you?
Do you even know what you're doing anymore?"
I said nothing.
Because what could I say to someone who already believed I had replaced her?
She continued, her voice trembling now — a strange mix of heartbreak and fury.
> "You know," she said, motioning toward Malvika,
"I've suffered so much just to make you mine.
And when Malvika told you to come and use me — use me, Sam — you said yes.
And even after hearing that… even after knowing what it meant, I still let it happen."
She was crying now.
But the worst part was — she didn't even realize it.
Her pain had taken over every inch of her, and all I could do was stand there and watch the damage I'd caused.
> "I told myself," she continued, "that even if you were going to break my heart,
at least… at least you'd stay with me."
"I did everything to understand whether you actually loved me or not. I tried so hard to believe that you did."
"And for a moment… I really thought you did."
My breath caught in my throat.
Because part of me still wanted to say she was right.
That I did love her.
But love — the kind I gave — had started to come with conditions, with fear, with confusion.
And that wasn't fair to her.
Not anymore.
She looked at me, searching my face for something — for an answer, for remorse, for hope.
> "But your love?" she whispered bitterly.
"It was never just for me, was it?
It was for Malvika… and maybe now someone else too.
Your love had limits, Sam.
And when those limits ran out… you pushed me away."
I couldn't speak.
Not because I didn't want to.
But because no words could undo what I had already done.
She shook her head in disbelief, tears finally falling freely now.
> "So tell me," she asked, voice barely holding together,
"Who is it now, Sam?
Who do you love now?"
And all I could do…
Was look away.
Because I didn't even know the answer myself.
All I knew… was that I had broken someone who once thought I was worth every piece of her heart.
And now?
I wasn't sure if I deserved to be loved at all.
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To be continued….