It's not always Black and White

A heart left unravelled

Bea's POV

Two months had passed since Josh and I had made the difficult decision to part ways. It had been an agonising two months, filled with sleepless nights and a constant feeling of emptiness. There was an undeniable void in my life, he had imprinted himself deeply within the fabric of my heart. It was now obvious that it was much easier to get under someone than to get over him.

I had tried to distract myself, seeking comfort in the arms of different boys, but it was all useless. None of them saw me the way Josh had seen me, none of them loved me as deeply as he did.

Those stolen moments of tenderness and affection, the way Josh looked at me with adoration and acceptance, played like a continuous song in my mind. With every guy I encountered, I desperately wanted something remotely similar, something that could make my heart beat with the same rhythm. But it was as if every connection fell short, leaving me more broken than before.

The realisation hit me like a tidal wave, that no matter how many nights I spent drowning my sorrows or how many distractions I sought, my heart belonged to him. It craved his presence, his touch, and his understanding. No one else could replace the unique connection we shared.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. The once vibrant girl , full of life and love, now appeared haunted by the past. My eyes, once filled with hope, now reflected the depths of my pain. I longed for the days when Josh's presence would light up my world.

As a black girl, I've always been taught to love and accept myself for who I am, but recently I started to hate the way I looked. I began to bleach my skin again to try to make it lighter, to make it look "better". I felt so ashamed of myself for wanting to change the way I look, but I felt like I had no other choice. I started to think that if I was lighter, people would accept me more, and maybe I wouldn't feel so out of place.

Many nights were spent pouring over old photographs and revisiting memories. I wanted to pick up the phone and reach out to Josh, to tell him that no one else could love me the way he did, that our love was worth fighting for.
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Josh's POV:

Two months had passed since Bea and I had made the decision to part ways, and not a day went by that I didn't regret letting her slip through my fingers. I was haunted by the pain that I caused her, and the knowledge that my actions had led her down a dark path.

The sight of her in the bathtub, tears streaming down her face, reflected the depths of her pain. It was a moment that shook me to my core, a moment that made me realise the weight of my actions and the consequences they had on the person I loved.

Immediately after that, I distanced myself from everything and everyone. I ignored my friends, feeling their judgmental eyes on me, my guilt multiplied by their silent accusations. For two long weeks, I cocooned myself in isolation, allowing myself to drown in remorse and self-reflection. It was a period of soul-searching, a time where I acknowledged the pain I had inflicted.

During those two weeks , I found my thoughts consistently returning to Bea – her smile, her beautiful spirit, and the love she unconditionally gave me. It was a love that I had taken for granted, that I had underestimated. I had allowed my own insecurities to sabotage what was perhaps the most precious thing I had ever experienced.

Slowly, I reconnected with my friends, but the dynamic had shifted. I no longer aligned myself with those blinded by prejudice. Instead, I distanced myself from their toxic influence, unwilling to allow Bea to experience the judgment and discrimination we had faced in the past. It was a brave step, but one that lacked in comparison to what was ahead – the task of redeeming myself in Bea's eyes and proving that my love for her was stronger than any external influence.

I was willing to fight for our love, our happiness, and our shared future.

Nervously, I built the courage to reach out to Bea, my fingers trembling as I dialed her number.

As she answered the phone, her voice was laced with a certain vulnerability, a reflection of the pain that still lingered within her. I spilled my heart out to her, offering an unfiltered apology that came from the deepest depths of my soul. Tears streamed down my face as I bared my heart to her, pleading for her forgiveness and professing my unwavering love.

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and my heart sank.

"Do you want to come over?"

I did it.