In the bustling city of Lucknow, there lived two best friends named Avyansh Malhotra and Hrida Raichand. One fateful day, something happened that changed their friendship forever.
Hate was a strong word, but the animosity between them was palpable.
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I don't know what he wants anymore.
I hate him.
He's been hurting me for so long, making me hate him more with every passing moment.
And now, when the truth has finally come out, he's suddenly trying to talk to me?
It's like some cruel joke. Where was this effort before?
Where was this desperate need to "talk" when he was busy shutting me out, not even sparing me a glance, not even acknowledging my existence in the room?
Yesterday, I cried, because of him.
Jerk Malhotra.
After all the pain, he decides now is the time to apologize, as if that will undo everything.
Well, I've made my choice. I'm done trying.
He deserves the silence.
He deserves to be ignored.
Today, I woke up early, not because I was eager to face the day, but because I went to bed early, exhausted from all the emotional turmoil. I got dressed for work, slipping into a simple light green floral kurta with straight pants and a matching dupatta.
It wasn't for anyone else—just me, just for the comfort I needed to survive the day. Mom and Dad didn't come home last night, so I asked Driver Uncle to take me to the hospital.
I didn't want to face anyone or anything that would remind me of him.
The hospital was supposed to be my escape.
But just as I stepped out of the car, someone grabbed my arm—hard. I didn't need to look to know who it was, Mr. Malhotra.
"Hrida, please talk to me. Let me just apologize," his voice came, desperate and pleading.
I didn't care.
I didn't want to care.
I tried to pull my arm free, my heart thudding with anger and frustration.
"Leave me!" I shouted, my voice sharp, cutting through the morning air. But he didn't let go. He tightened his grip.
"Don't yell," he said, his voice low, trying to soothe me, but it only made my blood boil more.
"Let's go home, we'll talk there."
"Talk? What's left to talk about, huh?" I snapped, glaring at him.
He acted like this was all so simple, like I could just flip a switch and be ready to have a conversation.
"Please, just once," he begged.
"Talk to me once."
"I don't want to talk to you!" My voice cracked as the anger inside me built higher and higher, threatening to spill over.
