HER SAFE PLACE

Reunion

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Shivangi's POV

I sat in my room, staring at the empty space beside me, waiting… waiting for him. But I knew, deep down, that he wasn’t coming. It had been seven days since our argument—seven long, silent days—and Rocky hadn’t shown his face to me since. Every morning, he left for work before I even woke up, and by the time he came back at night, I was already asleep. Or at least, I pretended to be.

It hurt, more than I wanted to admit. I told myself that I didn’t care, that I was fine with the distance, but the truth was, it felt like a slow, gnawing ache in my chest. The way he left without saying goodbye, the way he came back so late that we never even had a chance to talk… it was like he was slipping further away from me, and I hated it.

But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop feeling this way, even though I knew I was the one who had pushed him away in the first place. I couldn’t blame him for keeping his distance after what I had said, after the things I had asked of him. The truth is, every time I tried to let him in, something stopped me—some voice in the back of my mind, telling me that I didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him.

I kept thinking, How could he really love someone like me? I wasn’t worth it. He deserved someone better, someone who didn’t come with so much baggage, someone who didn’t keep shutting him out at every turn. And every time I thought I was ready to let him in, something happened that reminded me why I couldn’t.

I felt sad, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, and no matter how hard I tried to push them away, they just came flooding back, stronger each time. He doesn’t need this, I kept telling myself. He doesn’t need someone who’s so broken, so unsure.

And yet, every time he didn’t come back to me, it stung. Every time I woke up to find that he had already left for work, it was like a small part of me cracked even more. I wanted him to come back, to talk to me, to hold me, but I knew I couldn’t ask for that. Not after the way I had pushed him away.

I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him. I had convinced myself that I was doing the right thing by keeping him at a distance, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear.

Why does it have to be like this? I wondered. Why couldn’t I just let myself believe that he loved me, that I was worth his love? But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was setting him up for disappointment. He deserved so much more than I could give him, and I couldn’t live with the thought of being the one to let him down.

So here I was, sitting alone, waiting for someone I knew wouldn’t come.

I stayed there, sitting by myself, my mind running in circles. Every time I thought about Rocky, my chest tightened. It was so strange—how much I missed him, how much I longed for him to come back, yet at the same time, how I felt like I couldn’t let him. I wanted him to hold me, to tell me everything was fine, but I knew he wouldn’t—not this time. He wouldn’t come until I made the first move, and I was terrified of that.

Why am I like this? I asked myself for what felt like the hundredth time. Why do I keep pushing him away when all I want is for him to be close?

These seven days felt like an eternity. The silence between us weighed heavier than any words ever could. I couldn’t escape the guilt I felt for starting the fight, for asking him for something I knew would break him, but I still believed that maybe… maybe he’d be better off without me. That thought haunted me.

Every night, I’d stay up longer than I should, waiting for the sound of his footsteps, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he’d come and sit beside me. But he never did. He always slipped into the house quietly, making sure not to disturb me. And I hated that too. I hated that he thought he had to tiptoe around me like I was some fragile thing that would shatter if he got too close.