Closer Than Before | 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙙 ✅

Chapter 6: Is he Okay?

Radhika's POV:

Samar stood in front of me, holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers—white lilies. He had a warm smile on his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Good morning, Radhika," he said softly, his voice tender.

I felt my heart flutter, the way it always did when he was near. He stepped closer, the scent of the lilies filling the air around us.

"I love you, Radhika," he murmured, his eyes locking with mine. "I’ve always loved you."

I could hardly breathe. The words I had longed to hear for so long were finally spoken, and they felt like a balm to my wounded heart.

But then, just as I reached out to take the flowers, just as I was about to tell him that I loved him too, his voice changed. It grew distant, almost echoing.

"Radhika, wake up."

I blinked, confused. "What?"

"Radhika, wake up."

I opened my eyes to find myself alone in my bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains.

No flowers, no Samar, just the cold reality of my empty room. I groaned, burying my face in the pillow, cursing myself for getting carried away by a dream.

"Stupid, stupid," I muttered, my voice muffled by the pillow. "Of course, it was just a dream. What did you expect? That he would suddenly confess his love after everything that’s happened?"

I sighed, rolling over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. My heart was still racing from the dream, and I could feel the sting of disappointment settling in.

I knew better than to let myself get caught up in fantasies, but when it came to Samar, my heart never seemed to listen to reason.

I needed to get a grip. It was just a dream, nothing more. A cruel trick my mind had played on me, dredging up old feelings and hopes that should have been long buried.

I couldn’t let myself fall into that trap again, couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me.

I had to remind myself of the reality. Samar and I were not the same people we once were. We had a history, yes, but it was a history filled with pain and misunderstandings.

I couldn’t afford to let a dream cloud my judgment, couldn’t let myself slip back into that dangerous place of hope.

But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn’t help but feel a lingering sadness, a sense of loss for something that never was and never could be.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I was suddenly pulled back to reality by the sound of Samar’s voice. “Radhika, wake up.”

I blinked, coming out of my trance, and looked toward the door. There he was, standing there with a cup of tea in his hand. I hadn’t even realized how much time had passed.

Samar walked over to my bedside table, placing the cup down gently. “Good morning,” he said, giving me a small smile.

I found myself smiling back, almost instinctively. There was something about that smile—it was like a warm, familiar embrace that I hadn’t felt in so long. But before I could say anything, he turned away and sneezed.

“God bless you,” I said without thinking, the words slipping out automatically.

He looked back at me, surprised, and then nodded. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice slightly raspy.