My fingers automatically reached for the pendant around my neck, twisting it nervously. It was an old habit, born out of anxiety—maybe even fear. Fear of the memories I had buried deep inside my chest, the kind that never truly go away no matter how much you try to forget.
The fear of feeling everything again.
The man who abandoned me, as if I never mattered.
The man who hurt me, who shattered the fragile heart of a little girl.
My father. He was the first man to ever break my heart.
My stepfather, on the other hand, had always been kind to me—gentle, patient, everything a father should be. But the scars of a traumatic childhood don't vanish easily; they linger like shadows in the corners of your mind.
"Nandini… who is it?" Vyom's voice echoed in my head, soft yet probing.
I didn't have an answer. My hands trembled violently as I disconnected the call, pressing the phone against my chest as if it could steady my heartbeat. I shut my eyes tight, trying desperately to calm the storm inside me.
"Nobody," I whispered, the words shaky and unconvincing. "I… I have to go."
I bent down to gather my things, my vision blurring as tears welled up. My throat burned as I fought to hold them back. I didn't dare look at him—not when my face threatened to betray me.
But before I could take a step away, two strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind. My body stiffened instantly, my breath catching in my throat.
"Vy-vyom" My voice came out as barely more than a broken whisper.
He didn't let go. Instead, he gently pulled me closer until my back was pressed against the warmth of his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing contrasted sharply with my ragged ones.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, Nandini," he murmured, his tone calm and reassuring. "But at least… let yourself stay here. Stay like this for as long as you need."
He rested his chin lightly on my shoulder, his closeness grounding me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to sink into the moment.
The ghosts of my past, the sharp edges of my father's memory, began to dull—fading into the background. My mind, usually so restless, softened in his embrace. His touch didn't erase the pain, but it soothed the ache.
For once, I wasn't fighting to be strong. I simply let myself breathe.
My hands trembled in my lap, and I could feel Vyom's eyes on me, waiting patiently. The words fought inside my chest, clawing their way out. My lips parted, but nothing came at first but just silence and the sharp sting of memories.
Finally, I whispered, "He was never a father to me."
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. My voice cracked. "When I was little, I used to wait by the door every evening, hoping he'd come home and maybe—just maybe—smile at me, or ask me how school was. But all I got was the sound of his anger, the smell of alcohol, and the way his footsteps made my stomach twist in fear."
The images flashed, too clear, too loud. My body trembled as I forced myself to continue.
"He would yell for nothing. Sometimes just because I laughed too loud, or because the food wasn't the way he wanted. And other times" my voice broke, tears stinging my eyes. "Other times he raised his hand. Not just on my mother, but on me too. Do you know what it feels like when the man who's supposed to protect you is the one who hurts you the most?"
My throat burned. I couldn't look at Vyom; I stared at my fingers twisting the edge of my dupatta instead.
"I tried to be perfect. I thought if I behaved, if I stayed quiet, if I got good grades, maybe he'd love me. Maybe he'd stop. But he never did. He just left."
I swallowed hard, my breath hitching. "And the worst part, Vyom? The worst part is that the little Nandini still wanted him back,she had a hope. Still wanted him to choose her. And that's what breaks me, even now."
Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing, but the weight was too much. "I hate him for what he did. I hate him for ruining my childhood."
The confession ripped me open. My voice was no longer steady—it was raw, shaking, and filled with all the pain I had buried for years.
When I finally lifted my eyes, Vyom was still there. Not looking away, not pitying me, not rushing me. Just sitting, still and steady, as though holding space for my broken pieces.
I continued, my voice breaking.
"But that wasn't the time when Mom decided to walk out. It happened one night when he came back home,drunk, soaked in wine and lust. I was sitting on the sofa," my eyes burned with tears as I went on, "he came to me smiling, and I thought that maybe, finally, he had started to love me.But I didn't know he was about to cross the last line. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him."
My lips trembled as I struggled to continue speaking, my voice barely above a whisper. Sensing my pain, Vyom pulled me gently into his arms, holding me close, gently caressing my hair.
"He forced himself on me. My father. He forgot I was his daughter. He tried to kiss me while his hands went towards my skirt".
And maybe that was enough. I had no more words left; my voice had deserted me. I cried and cried, the weight of everything I had buried for so long pouring out in unstoppable waves. Vyom held me close, his hands gently caressing my hair, and pressed a soft peck to my forehead. He wrapped me tighter, as if trying to shield me from the world.
He spoke softly, his voice a soothing anchor, "It's okay,everything is fine now. You're with me. I will never let that man come near you again, Rose."
I choked on my tears, but a flicker of relief warmed my chest. I trusted him—deep down, I knew he would keep me safe. Clutching his shirt as if I were the little Nandini of years ago, I let myself fall entirely into his arms, letting the comfort of his presence cradle the broken pieces of me.
Slowly, my sobs began to soften. The tight knot of fear in my chest loosened just a little, replaced by a fragile sense of safety. I could feel his steady heartbeat against mine, hear the quiet steadiness of his breathing, and for the first time in years. I felt relieved.