His heart was a fortress, haunted by the warmth he pushed away, scarred by the silence he forced between them, all because he believed she deserved more than the broken pieces he could offer.
And, her heart was a battlefield, bruised by all the word...
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DISCLAIMER: The story is set in the early 20th century. While I have made efforts to capture the essence of the era, there may be inaccuracies as this is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters Arnav and Khushi, and this story is purely fictional with no relation to any real individuals, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
WARNING: 18+, MATURE CONTENT.
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Dear Arnav,
I am writing with the last hope of reaching out to you with my words. I know you don't want to talk to me, and that is completely justified. This is my last attempt to contact you. I will not disturb you again.
First of all, I just want to say sorry for hurting you and your family unknowingly. I didn't know your father was married. As a sixteen-year-old girl with eyes full of rosy dreams, I couldn't resist the charm of my handsome neighbour. I was living with my old mother as my father had died in the war when I was very young. Your father did marry me under my mother's persistence. And these are no justification for how I hurt your mother. I am truly sorry for what happened because of me. I didn't know any of that until your father shot himself.
Shortly after your father's death, I discovered I was pregnant. My mother refused to take any responsibility for me, so I moved to the other side of the city to start a new life with my baby. But perhaps God is punishing me for my misdeeds. I am dying. My liver is completely destroyed. The doctors say I only have a few months to live.
I had completely lost all hope, but one day I saw you at the farmer's market. You looked so much like your father, and upon asking, I learned your name. I knew in my heart that you were his son. I know it's extremely selfish of me to ask for your help, but you are the last hope of this dying mother. Please take care of my daughter after I die. She is only eleven. After I pass away, her only options will be either an orphanage or the street. I don't have any relatives left. Please, Arnav, take care of your sister. You are her last hope.
And if possible, please forgive me. I am leaving my address on the back. If you can, please visit us, your sister would like to meet you too. Even if you don't want to fulfil my request, I would still like the chance to apologize to you face-to-face.
