["Do you think I will ever have someone who will look at me like I am worth fighting for?"
"I am sure there will be someone for you, Maya. You aren't that hard to love."
"Ridiculous! Who will even love a complicated ass like me?"
"Someone who sees beyond your emotional resistance."]
Suddenly, I remember my 18-year-old self asking my friend back in Mumbai while drinking masala tea in a stall near the street after an argument with my mother over the idea of marriage, where she said
-"marriage doesn't need to have love or romance to last; a woman just needs to adjust."
I was angry and hurt, and every marriage around me back in India was all out of social obligation and family's face.
Where women never get their husbands' love, and men cheating is always treated as a normal thing.
But in this moment, looking at the man on top of me, holding me tightly, securely, his arctic blue eyes soft and tender, full of emotions I can't name, saying with such unwavering confidence that-
I am his only drug—my chest squeezes in a strange way it never did before.
My breathing slows down. My body relaxes. Parting my lips, I try to say something, something to push him away... but nothing comes out.
"Stop pushing me away, Princess." His voice drops low, eyebrows frowning a little, almost pleading with words and eyes alone.
"I don't want anyone serious in my heart," I say heavily. He rests his forehead against my chest.
"Then take me as casual. Just let me, okay? Anything,anyone..." he pauses, his voice trembling, his breath brushing against my skin.
I can feel his desperation in the way he is holding me tightly.
My lips tremble, almost letting him in, almost letting him see me—the entire me.
almost....
But almost is never the right thing.
"I don't want you," I lie through my teeth, blinking rapidly to make sure no tears stream down, though I feel the sting behind my eyes.
He squeezes my hip tightly. Only the distant humming of the bustling city and the fluttering curtains make any sound.
Aaron slowly pulls himself away from me, like he is tearing a part of his body with his own hands.
Breathing through his mouth, Aaron sits back on his heels, still between my legs.
"Is that your final decision?" he asks, his face contorted in pain and silent desperation.
My heart squeezes a little bit more, a bit more painfully, as I notice the red trim of his eyes, like he is holding back tears.
I nod, masking my real emotions—something I have always been best at.
"Yes..."
No. I want you. I fucking want to be loved by you. I want to tell you how much you've healed me in the shortest period of time. I want to tell you... oh God... oh heavens... how much I've come to let you in.
Aaron looks away, clenching his jaw tightly, clenching his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.
He says nothing more and gets off the bed, his back straight as always, without any sign of heartbreak other than his uneven breathing and clenched fists.
"There are fresh clothes in the bathroom. Come downstairs. You will find my friends—tell one of them to drop you back to your place."
Aaron's words come out cold and distant, like he has closed the door of his heart. I nod without asking for more detail.
His gaze meets mine again—distant, cold, dark, and void of any emotion.
My heart sinks into my stomach, a twisted ripping of my bones making my body shiver.
I know this look.
The look of withdrawal.
The most familiar eyes I have ever seen when someone simply gives up on knocking on your closed door.
My head starts ringing.
Despite the sunlight filtering through the window and balcony, all I see is darkness—a deep oblivion where I have been living my entire life.
Aaron says nothing more and walks away. I watch him close the wooden door with a soft click, and I am all alone again.
One tear slips first.
then another,
then another.
Before I can convince myself, I am curling into a ball, covering my mouth to stop any sob from coming out.
My throat feels as if someone has shoved a hot crimson iron in it, and regardless of how much I scream or yell, nobody is going to save me.
I read it somewhere:
If you stare at the abyss long enough, the abyss starts staring back at you.
And for me, it's true.
I have no idea how the fuck I'm even supposed to escape the abyss.
It's like I'm in a train chamber that has been passing through several train stations whose names I can't even see through the window because it's all black and dark outside.
Passengers get in, get down at different stations—other than me.
I'm just the only passenger, stuck in the same seat for years after years, watching others change every other day, every other night.
I talk to them, but there's a clear wall between us, making it impossible for me to ever reach out.
I can't even express how lonely, scared, and terrified I am because those words never come out, and I'm just...
I'm just...
I'm just.....
So fucking tired of this.
Someone! Someone please save me for once! I want to get off this train! I want to escape this abyss, this constant clash against this wall!
My breathing gets rough. My chest heavies as I muffle my cough with the pillow, my body trembling in intense emotional pain that manifests as real pain.
No scream comes out of my mouth. My head feels heavy as tears slowly stop running down my cheeks.
"I am tired... I am so tired..."
But there's nobody who can hear my silent plea.
Because I no longer let anyone hear my pleas. Because in my past, whoever I expressed my distress and pleaded to stay—my parents, my brother, my three best friends, my ex boyfriend aka my first love—they only caused me too much pain and called me dramatic.
So no, I won't let you in, Aaron.
I won't bear another scar, another heartache, another ray of hope that maybe I will finally get off this train and find someone waiting for me with a warm smile and food in hand.
I won't hope again that I will finally get to stop, to just exist in the light.
I no longer have the heart to hope.
I inhale sharply a few times and calm myself.
My neck is sore as I slowly sit up mechanically. My eyes are puffed and red. I slowly get off the bed and feel the softness of the plush carpet under my feet.
This room is massive, full of light, with a clear view of the London Bridge in the distance—sunlight reflecting on the river, somewhat picturesque from so high above.
Without thinking twice, I grab my phone from the nightstand and walk toward the balcony, the curtain fluttering almost magically silent.
The warm wind carrying something uniquely London makes my lips twitch into a small, unconscious smile.
I take a picture of the scene and lean against the white railing, letting my hair flutter.
I sniff my blouse. My heart twists painfully.
It still smells like Aaron—his cologne, his body musk. Fresh, woody, citrus, not too strong yet impossible to ignore.
A bitter chuckle leaves my mouth. I really am a twisted creature.
I've been pushing that man away every time he tries to even knock on my heart.
Yet, his warmth, his kisses, his breath, and his body musk strangely soothe my heart—gently, tenderly.
I whisper to myself, "Had I met you eight years ago, I would have held onto you with my everything. Because that time, I wouldn't have been carrying so many scars and baggage."
The wind simply carries my words away, but there's no one to receive them.
It's too late for me to fall in love again—with the risk of heartbreak.
...................
AUTHORS NOTE-
-( PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT AND VOTE!!!!!! 🙏 MY COMMENT SECTION IS TOO TRY DESPITE SO MANY READERS.)-