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Niharika Verma is a stunning semi-classical dancer who wants nothing more than to travel the world, but the shackles of her dreadful past keep her grounded. On the other end, Asia's well-known businessman and CEO of Ra...
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Life is cruel that way. It doesn't warn you before taking away what you never thought you'd lose. It lets you believe you have time-time to fix things, to make amends, to say what should have been said long ago. But when the moment slips through your fingers, you realize time was never on your side.
I spent so long pushing her away, convincing myself I didn't care. And now, when she's slipping away, when she's lying there between life and death, I finally understand what she means to me.
Regret is the heaviest weight a man can carry. It doesn't just sit on your shoulders-it crushes you, fills every breath with suffocation. I used to think I was strong, but what kind of strength is this if I couldn't even protect my own wife? If I let my anger blind me so much that I didn't see what I was doing to her?
What if I never get the chance to say I'm sorry? What if she never opens her eyes again? Would I have to live with this for the rest of my life, knowing that my hands, my choices, put her in that hospital bed?
I used to believe love was weakness, that attachment made a man vulnerable. But standing here, watching doctors fight for her life, I realize-love isn't weakness. It's the only thing that makes life worth living. And I might have lost my chance to prove it to her.
We chase, we desire, we fight to have something-or someone. And the moment we have it, we stop valuing it. We take it for granted, thinking it will always be there, always waiting, always ours.
Then, one day, we lose it. And suddenly, the very thing we ignored becomes the only thing we want. The desperation to get it back consumes us, but sometimes, fate is cruel. Sometimes, it doesn't give second chances.
That's what I'm feeling right now. That gnawing, suffocating realization that I had her, but I never truly held on. And now, I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to.
...she was never the villain I painted her to be.
Maybe because now I understood-she was just a girl, caught in circumstances she never chose. A girl who tried, who endured, who stayed despite everything I did to push her away.
I'm not saying I love her. I don't even know if I'm capable of that. Love is a word too big, too heavy, something I never dared to believe in.
But right now, I don't care about love.
I just want her back-walking, talking, fighting with me over something as trivial as her jhumka. Complaining, rolling her eyes, turning away in mock anger only to look back when she thought I wasn't watching.
