" 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 "
Advait Agnihotry... He was my pride.
My heart.
The reason I breathed.
But now... now for the first time in my life-I qu...
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My eyes snapped open as the sound of my alarm echoed through the room. I clicked my tongue in disbelief—I'd just gone back to bed at 2 a.m., and now I was awake, utterly sleep-deprived.
Can I work from home?
No, that would be unprofessional, especially since I didn’t email HR about my absence. That’s against the rules. My gaze shifted to the empty, cold side of the bed. Advait used to be here, always finding ways to annoy me, and there were times I thought I could handle being without him for a while. But now, with him actually away, I realize how wrong I was. The room feels so empty without him.
Would he feel the same if I were the one gone and he was here alone?
I already know the answer. But I let myself indulge in unrealistic thoughts, even though I know better. There’s no harm in imagining the unexpected, right? When I first stepped into this mansion as his wife, I knew the consequences of my hasty decision. It wasn’t about his feelings—it was about how long I could survive without his love, or how long I could endure the emptiness in his eyes. Today, he isn’t here, but that’s no surprise. Advait never made promises to love me, never gave me hope. The blame is on me—I fall for him every time.
Why him?
He’s a simple man, devoted to his family, his work, and his principles. He’s never been involved in scandals, always showing respect for others. On the surface, he seems too ordinary, too plain. But there’s something in his eyes, something that weakens me every time he looks at me. I crave his presence, his voice, a single touch.
He is captivating. He got my heart. Wether to keep it safe or shatter it into pieces, it's upto him. I am not taking it back. It isn't in my power.
That thought made my heart clench. Did he even remember today’s occasion? It’s not like my birthday was something worth celebrating. My family loves me, sure, but it feels more like an obligation. My sister adores me, seeing me as a star. My brother loves me because I was there when he needed someone to lean on. My in-laws are kind and generous to me. But my husband? The answer is obvious, yet it still hurts. It shouldn't, but it does. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without fearing that I’ll see something lacking in me.
Why am I so afraid of being flawed? Isn’t imperfection what makes us human? I used to tell my siblings to embrace their flaws, to accept their true selves without shame. What happened to that Diya? In my desperate attempt to keep everyone happy, I’ve lost sight of my own worth.
Lost in thought, I felt a sharp pang in my chest. My hand jerked slightly as a tear landed on my dry skin, proof of my vulnerability. For some people, birthdays are a day of joy and pride—a time to celebrate life. But for me, it’s a reminder of my failures, a day where I reflect on my shortcomings and how often I’ve disappointed the people around me.
