I don't know if it's fair to put them side by side like this, but I can't help it. The truth is, when something lives inside your chest, it doesn't stay still. It wants to be measured, questioned, explained. And so here I am—laying it out, as if telling the world might help me understand what my own heart is trying to do.
With Yuvraaj, it's always been chaos. The kind of energy that shakes me awake, leaves me restless, leaves me burning. He is storm and fire and thunder—sometimes pulling me closer than I've ever been, sometimes pushing me so far I wonder why I even try. But the thing is, I do try. I always try. Because something about him makes me feel like I'm standing on the edge of something too big to let go of. He makes my pride flare, my words sharpen, my pulse race. With him, I am never still.
And then there's Ayaan. With him, it's not fire—it's quiet, but not empty. It's the silence that feels safe, the kind that doesn't make me want to run away. He doesn't demand me to be more or less than I am; he simply sits there, and somehow, his presence alone makes me softer. He doesn't leave me dizzy like Yuvraaj, but he leaves me wondering what it would be like to rest—truly rest—in someone's certainty.
So what do I do with this comparison? On one side, I have the storm: passion, unpredictability, a fire I can't control. On the other, I have calm: the steady hand, the quiet comfort, a space where my heart could breathe.
And maybe the cruelest part of it all is this—neither of them knows the full weight of what I carry. Neither of them knows how loudly my heart is asking me to choose
I can't stop myself. Sometimes, it takes the smallest of moments to show the biggest of differences.
Take that day with Yuvraaj. He had been asking me for months to go on a date. Months. And I kept avoiding it, because I don't like dates. I don't like the pressure of two people sitting across a table, forced to perform romance like a script. I'd rather be with friends, loud and messy, where love hides inside laughter and not candlelight.
But finally, I said yes. To make him feel special, I pushed myself. I dressed up. I even got my hair done. And for the first time, I went out of my way—I got nail extensions. Blood red almond-shaped nails, two of them painted with delicate white flowers. I wanted him to notice. To feel like I had done something only for him.
And then the universe laughed. The very day we planned it, my health betrayed me. Fever. Weakness. My whole body begging me to stay in bed. I told him, gently, "I'm not feeling well today." But he was angry. So angry. Months of waiting had hardened into demand, and I could feel the weight of his disappointment through the phone.
So what did I do? I went anyway.
Even though my body was burning up, even though every step felt heavy, I went. For him.
But when we met, he didn't even look. Not at my hair. Not at my dress. Not at my nails. Nothing. He only cared that the date was happening. That his wish was finally being fulfilled. And the more my health dropped, the colder he became.
When I finally whispered, "I want to go home, I can't hold it anymore," his face hardened. No concern. Just anger.
I booked my own cab. I went home shivering, nails still shining under the streetlight as if mocking me. And the next day, he disappeared. No calls. No replies. Just silence. Childish silence.
But then, the very next day, I was in the office—with Ayaan. I was showing my nails to all my friends, and they were all gasping, touching my hand, saying things like:
"Oh my God, they're gorgeous!"
"Blood red? That's bold, yaar."
"So pretty, I'm obsessed!"
And I laughed with them, flexing my hand like a little queen. For once, the effort felt worth it, even if it wasn't for him.
Then Ayaan walked in. He hadn't noticed yet, so I held my hand out, teasing: "See? I got my nails done."
He looked down, paused, and smiled. "They're beautiful. Where'd you get them?"
I told him the place, the price, expecting him to just nod. Instead he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It's expensive. Not worth the money, maybe… but still—they look so beautiful on you."
And that's it. That's the difference. Yuvraaj wanted the performance, the box ticked. Ayaan noticed the detail. One left me shivering in a cab alone. The other, with a single sentence, made me feel seen.
So tell me—how can I not compare?
How can I not put them on opposite ends of my heart and ask myself which kind of love I deserve?
Not only this The second was with the heels.
That morning, I had made the biggest mistake of wearing heels. From home to the metro, through the endless interchange that easily takes 10–15 minutes of walking, and then the 1.5-hour-long journey till office—I had survived it all on heels. By the time I reached office, the back of my ankles were rubbed raw, burning with pain. I bought some bandages, somehow pushed through the day, but the pain never really left.
By evening, I was exhausted. I just wanted someone to help me out, just once.
So I asked Yuvraj softly, "Will you drop me at the metro station?"
He looked at me, thought for a second, and said, "Yeah, sure. Of course, I will."
For a moment, I felt relieved.
But when logout time came, he was with his group of friends, laughing and talking. I reminded him gently, "Yuvraj, shall we go? You said you'd drop me."
And right there, in front of everyone, he smirked and said loudly, "Give me one good reason why I should drop you to the metro?"
The words hit me like a slap. My face burned with humiliation. I couldn't even reply. I just picked my bag and left. My heart was boiling with anger, but my throat was choked.
That night, he kept calling me again and again. My phone buzzed, but I refused to pick up. "I don't want to talk to him. Not now, not ever," I whispered to myself.
---
A few days later, a similar situation happened—but this time, with Ayaan.
It was around 8 p.m. Me, Ayaan, and Kartik were sitting together after work, chatting, laughing, losing track of time.
Suddenly, Ayaan looked at me and asked, "It's late… how are you going home?"
I smiled faintly, "I'll manage, I'll go by myself."
He frowned, "No. Kartik will drop you to the metro on his scooty."
Kartik scratched his head, "Arrey, I forgot the extra helmet today…"
Before I could even respond, Ayaan looked straight at me and said, "Fine, I'll drop you."
No hesitation. No drama. Just simple care.
---
We packed up and went downstairs. Like always, before leaving, Ayaan had to smoke. Kartik's scooty was parked on the left, the cigarette shop was on the right on a very little far distance.
Ayaan told him, "Go, get the scooty, take a turn and meet us at the cigarette shop."
Kartik laughed, "Oh ho… why would I be the third wheel? You two go together, I'll join later."
I burst out laughing. Even Ayaan chuckled.
And in that moment, it happened.
In that laugh, in that unguarded second, Ayaan's hand slipped into mine. Unconsciously. Warm, certain. My heart stopped. Butterflies, chaos, something I can't put into words. And just as quickly as he realized it, he let go. But the moment stayed. It stayed in my chest long after we walked to the cigarette shop together.
And that's the difference.
With Yuvraaj, I feel small. Questioned. Diminished.
With Ayaan, even in the smallest moments—a compliment, a ride, an accidental handhold—I feel seen.
Tell me, how do I ignore that?