He pecked my forehead and attached our forehead we were breathing heavily due to the ferocious kiss we have shared and damn god he is good, na! na! -fantastic kisser.
"How many times have you kissed before?"
"Never. Ahana never you are my first and...
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E
ver thought about how life can change in just a few years-or even a few moments? Well, now I don't believe in dreaming or planning for anything. It's never been worth it. It always turned against my will, as if whatever I wanted, or needed, was never meant to be mine. Things have always been stacked against me, as though the universe itself was conspiring to make me suffer.
The pain from this little wound on my hand is nothing compared to the torment I feel in my chest. It's like someone is driving a sharp knife into my heart. I wanted to return stronger-trust me, I truly did. But my emotions defy everything my heart tells me. Ishaan's words, each one colder than the last, hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water.
I shouldn't care about what he's doing, where he's going, or who he's going to marry. But I can't seem to make this traitor of a heart understand.
Shayad mere naseeb mein apni mohabbat se dard milna hi likha hai, par maine ab is dard bhari zindagi se mohabbat kar li hai.
I need to prepare myself for this. I cannot go numb again, not like before.
But it aches so deeply, it's like my heart is itching, begging for release. All the bubbles of hope, all the confidence I had built, have burst in a single day. Even after so many years, I held on to hope-the kind of hope that kept me going through this life.
This burning sensation in my hand brings me back to our old days. How Ishaan would panic over the smallest injury I had, the way he would care for me. Oh, how I wish time had paused right there, in that moment, when things felt simpler, when his touch didn't hurt but healed.
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"How can you say this, Ishaan? How can you question her character? HOW?"
The words rang in my ears, a constant echo that I couldn't shake. I stormed into my room, slamming the door behind me. Frustration surged through me, and I tore off my tie, throwing it, along with my coat, carelessly onto the bed. Without a second thought, I made my way to the punching bag hanging on the balcony.
Each punch I delivered was fueled by rage, each strike a futile attempt to release the storm inside me.
"How could I hurt her?" The thought taunted me relentlessly, like a cruel whisper I couldn't escape. I kept hitting the bag until my body screamed in protest. The sweat drenched my skin, and my shirt clung to my chest as I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. My whole body ached, but the image of Ahana's tear-streaked face wouldn't leave me.
