Unwanted Love

A Choice to Make

Sidharth's pov

– One Week Ago

I sat in my dimly lit study, the weight of the past week pressing heavily on my shoulders. My mind was racing, frantically searching for any lead, any connection that could bring me closer to finding Tara. The frustration gnawed at me—each day without her felt like an eternity. Then, like a sudden flash of lightning cutting through a storm, an idea struck me.

Kriti.

I hadn't thought about Tara's sister in days. After our bitter breakup, Kriti had distanced herself from me, leaving her job and vanishing from my life. But if anyone knew anything, it had to be her. Tara and Kriti had always been close, sharing everything. I knew I had to reach out, no matter how awkward or painful it might be.

Without wasting another second, I quickly dialed her number, the phone ringing in my ear as I braced myself for what she might say. When Kriti answered, her voice was strained, filled with that kind of anxiety that only comes from living in constant fear. As we spoke, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Kriti revealed that she had been receiving pictures of Tara every day—cruel reminders sent by the kidnappers, each one more terrifying than the last.

I stood outside her house, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. The hallway felt tighter than I remembered, the walls closing in on me as I raised my hand to knock. My mind raced with memories—moments we'd all shared before everything went to hell. I knew this was going to be uncomfortable, maybe even painful, but I had no choice.

When the door opened, and I saw Kriti's face, the awkwardness hit me like a punch to the gut. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she barely looked at me. Guilt gnawed at me—I was the reason she'd distanced herself, the reason things were so strained now.

"Kriti... I'm sorry for showing up like this, but I need to talk to you," I said, my voice sounding unsteady even to my own ears.

She nodded without a word and stepped aside, letting me in. The air inside her apartment was thick with unspoken tension. We sat down, the silence between us almost unbearable. I struggled to find the right words, fumbling awkwardly as I tried to bridge the gap that had formed between us.

"I know things between us haven't been... great. But I'm worried about Tara. I thought... maybe you could help me understand what's going on," I said, feeling a lump form in my throat as I spoke Tara's name.

Kriti's face tightened, and she turned away from me. For a moment, I thought she wasn't going to say anything at all. Then, without looking at me, she reached for her phone. Her hands were trembling as she unlocked it, her breath hitching slightly.

She didn't say a word as she scrolled through her messages, but the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. Finally, she handed the phone to me, her fingers shaking as she placed it in my hands.

When I saw the pictures, my blood ran cold. Tara... she looked so broken, so different from the vibrant, strong woman I loved. Every image was a new horror—her eyes filled with fear, her body bruised and bound. I could barely breathe as I scrolled through them, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"They send these every day... every single day, Sidharth. I can't take it anymore. I don't know what to do," Kriti's voice broke as she spoke, and I could hear the desperation in her words.

Then she started to cry, and it was like the floodgates had opened. All the anger, the helplessness, the guilt I'd been holding back surged forward. But as I watched her fall apart, all I could think about was trying to comfort her. I reached out and pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as she sobbed into my shoulder. The awkwardness from earlier disappeared, replaced by something much stronger—a shared pain, a bond forged in the fire of our mutual fear and love for Tara.