Incomplete Love

You're not her

The sound of the front door creaking open echoed through the quiet house. Ishita was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when she heard Arjun’s footsteps. She quickly wiped her hands on a cloth, her heart racing. She knew he had been out all day—again—but she still hoped for some sign of warmth from him. Every night, she clung to the belief that maybe tonight would be different.

Arjun staggered into the living room, visibly drunk, his eyes bloodshot and his hair disheveled. He threw his jacket on the couch and slumped down, running a hand over his face, not even noticing Ishita standing in the doorway.

“Arjun, you’re back,” she said softly, stepping into the room with a hesitant smile. "I was waiting for you."

Arjun didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on some invisible spot across the room.

"I made dinner for us," she continued, trying to keep her tone light. "It’s your favorite—prawn curry. Why don’t you freshen up, and we can eat together?"

Arjun gave a bitter laugh, still not looking at her. "I’m not hungry," he muttered, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes.

"Arjun, please," Ishita said, her voice breaking slightly as she stepped closer. "You’ve barely eaten anything in days. I know you’ve been drinking, but you need to eat something. Just... sit with me, at least."

He finally looked at her, his gaze cold and distant. "Why are you always hovering around me, Ishita?" he snapped.

"You don’t understand, and you never will. Because you’re not her."

Ishita’s heart sank as realization hit her. "Her?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You mean... Preethi?"

Arjun stopped pacing, his eyes locking with hers. "Yes," he said flatly. "Preethi. The only woman I’ve ever truly loved. The only one who has every right on me."

Ishita stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. "Arjun, we’re married. You can’t keep holding on to the past."

"It’s not the past for me," Arjun shot back, his voice rising. "Preethi was my life, Ishita. She still is. You don’t understand what we had, what we were. You can never take her place."

Tears welled up in Ishita’s eyes, but she tried to hold them back. "I’m not trying to take her place," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I’m just trying to be your wife. To be here for you. Why can’t you let go of her?"

Arjun’s face hardened. "Because I don’t want to," he said coldly. "I will never let go of Preethi. She’s the only one who has ever mattered to me. She’s the only one who will ever have a claim on my heart."

Ishita took a shaky step forward, her voice breaking. "But I love you, Arjun. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? We’re married. I’ve been by your side, trying to make this work. Doesn’t that matter?"

He shook his head, his eyes filled with indifference. "It doesn’t matter, Ishita. You will never be her. No matter how much you try, no matter how much you care, I will never love you the way I love her."

Ishita felt her heart shatter into pieces. She had tried so hard—day after day, hoping he would see her, that he would remember the man she had fallen in love with. But now, standing in front of him, hearing those cruel words spill from his mouth, she realized that the man she loved was no longer there.

"Why, Arjun?" she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Arjun finally looked at her, his face unreadable. "Because, Ishita," he said slowly, "you’re a reminder of everything I don’t want in my life anymore. This marriage, this responsibility. I never wanted any of it."

Ishita stood there, her tears falling silently. She had no words left, no more energy to fight for someone who didn’t want to be fought for.

"I love you, Arjun," she said softly, one last time, hoping—just hoping—that something inside him would change.

But Arjun just looked away, the silence between them deafening. "Then that’s your problem, not mine."

Ishita bit her lip, her chest tightening as the pain grew unbearable. She wiped her tears and slowly turned back toward the kitchen. "I’ll leave dinner on the table," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As she walked away, Arjun stared blankly at the smoke curling from his cigarette, the taste of regret and bitterness heavy on his tongue—but still, he felt nothing.