The story of two poles, who don't know each other at all. Meet because of the family but love each other on their own will. Srida Sharma and Anshuman Bansal was a two opposite pole but get attracted by each other but after soo many hard work. Soo, l...
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The feeling of being loved is beyond the scope of my dictionary. Though I have felt love from my family and friends over the past 25 years, I have never known the love of a partner-a partner who makes you feel cherished, who can make you forget your surroundings, and with whom I can simply be myself, unfiltered.
He makes me feel loved; he makes me feel like I'm floating-I know it's not a word, but that's the closest my mind can conjure after spending time with him. Why does he make me feel this way when I know that falling for him will be deep and profound, a depth that still terrifies me?
I am overwhelmed by the feeling of being close to him, of baring every truth and emotion. Love! Love is a luxury I cannot afford, even after devoting every part of myself. It is a luxury that makes me realize I am still a beggar at its doorstep, with a few coins before a man with deep pockets.
Even though I haven't expressed my love, there is a certain feeling that makes me see him as the perfect embodiment of love in my life. Yet my mind can't reconcile with this feeling, making me want to run from it and from him. I can't be the perfect woman who knows how to love her man because I'm not.
I'm a selfish soul who knows only how to protect others by keeping them away from the black hole I am surviving in. People say that our bodies develop habits in 21 days, but here I am in this loop for more than a year or two, finding solace in dark walls and bitter memories after destroying every bit of my beating heart.
I have developed a habit of hiding myself within four walls, not allowing anyone a glimpse of what lies inside. It is a void of every feeling, making me suffocate every night as I sigh, looking at the endless dark sky. Even the darkness rejects me after giving me a glimpse of a past too horrible to imagine.
Staring at my reflection, I see only a mockery of my claim to be emotionless. The redness in my eyes is nothing but vulnerability and grief. My body is sweaty, indicating the hours I have spent here doing nothing but running from the emotions I've been feeling for the past three days.
Panting for breath, I grab a towel to wipe the sweat off my face while leaning against the wall, reminding myself of why I am here. The room next to mine has been an occasional refuge for the last five years, but the chaos in my life has made my visits more frequent in recent months.
A wall, precisely covered with a large red cloth, hides a target board where I have a single goal: to catch the black devil. Standing up and slipping into my baggy black oversized gym vest, I make my way out of the room, locking it with a punch code and my fingerprint.
After taking a chilling, cold shower on this frosty night, I feel my entire body freeze. The bruises on my knuckles make it hard to move, and my body temperature drops. Walking back to my bed, I see the clock indicating it is 4:30 in the morning. I groan-it is the third night I have been awake with no sleep. My mind begs for rest, but all it brings is anxiety, irritability, and restlessness
