Discover the journey of a girl who battles self-doubt and insecurity, only to find a love that shows her she deserves the world.
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"You are the alchemy that turns leaden doubts into golden dreams. Your scars are constellations, each telling tale...
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VOTE & COMMENT
★☆✮
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Nitya's POV:
The night air was cool as we stepped out of the grand venue. The event had been a whirlwind of socializing, but now, in the quiet of the night, it was just the two of us. Manav's arm around my waist was comforting, his presence a steady anchor in my sea of swirling thoughts.
We walked to the parking lot, where his car was parked. Manav always drove himself, despite having a driver. I admired this about him-his independence and the way he took control of situations. As we settled into the car, the silence between us was thick with unspoken words. I stared out the window, my mind racing with everything that had happened that night.
Manav's gaze flickered towards me every now and then, but he said nothing. The tension in the car was palpable. After a few minutes, the car finally stopped in a quiet, secluded spot. Manav stepped out, walked around the car, and opened my door. His chivalry was another trait I couldn't help but appreciate.
"Come on," he said softly, helping me out of the car. He guided me to a small tea stall by the roadside. It was a humble place, a stark contrast to the grand venue we had just left. But it was perfect. This was our little escape from the world-a place where we could be ourselves without any pretense.
We settled on a bench, and Manav ordered two cups of chai. The familiar aroma of the tea brought a sense of calm over me. This was my comfort zone. The warmth of the tea seeped through the cup and into my hands, grounding me.
Manav's eyes were gentle as he looked at me. "Nitya, what's bothering you?"
I took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. I told him about the gossip, the whispers that had reached my ears. How people were talking about us, speculating about our relationship. I felt vulnerable, laying my fears bare in front of him.
Manav listened patiently, his expression unreadable. When I finished, he took my hand in his, his touch reassuring.
"Nitya, listen to me," he began, his voice steady. "There's nothing like what they're saying. You're important to me, and I don't care what others think. What matters is what we think and feel."
