𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏: 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"What?" she said, she couldn't believe her ears, that her Kabir ji would say something like that when he had been showering his whole life at her feet.
"Kabir ji, if it's abo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Jaan..." I asked still holding her hand to my chest, her breathing had accelerated to the point that looked like she would faint any minute.
"Hmm" she said blinking her eyes.
"Do you like him?" I mustered every ounce of courage, my voice trembling as I locked eyes with her. The question hung heavy in the air, suffocating me with its weight. I knew the answer would tear me apart, but I needed to hear it from her lips.
"Who?" Her response was distant as if she were lost in a haze, her head tilted in confusion.
"Moksh Roy," I forced the words out, trying to mask the bitterness clawing at my insides.
"What made you think that?" Her hand retreated from where it rested against my chest as if recoiling from the depth of my inquiry. Please, just a few more seconds, let her reconsider. But it was futile.
"Answer me," I pleaded softly, my heart already bracing for the blow.
"Yes, I do." The words fell from her lips like daggers, each syllable piercing through the shattered remnants of my world. She stood up, turning away from me, perhaps to shield me from the pain she inflicted. But there was no escape from the devastation in her admission. Those three simple words sounded like the echo of my world crumbling around me, leaving nothing but the hollow ache of a heart irreparably broken. I saw something in her eyes before she masked it.
I stood there frozen for I don't know how long before I uttered, "Okay Jaan" with a smiling face.
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine for answers, for some hint of the man I used to be. Perhaps she wondered how a possessive, narcissistic monster like myself wasn't hell-bent on destroying the man she cared for. After all, I had once mutilated a man for daring to touch her, driven by a blind fury born from my own insecurities and twisted sense of ownership. But something had shifted within me.
The primal urge to tear that bastard apart, to rip him limb from limb and feed his carcass to the crows, still burned within me. Yet, amidst the flames of my fury, a flicker of something else emerged. A realization dawned upon me, piercing through the darkness of my obsession.
With him, she had a chance at a life free from the shadows of my demons, a life devoid of the scars I had etched upon her soul. Perhaps he could offer her the happiness and peace she had always deserved, the life that I, in my selfishness, had denied her. She would finally have the autonomy that I had stripped away when I claimed her as my own, without considering her wishes or desires. Now, she had the freedom to choose—to leave me, to embrace him, to forge her own path unencumbered by the chains of my possessiveness.
The bitter taste of those words turned to ashes in my mouth, but all I could see was her. All I wanted was to see her smile, even if it wasn't because of me. For the first time, I understood that true love isn't about possession or control—it's about setting someone free, even if it means sacrificing your own desires in the process.
