When She Falls For Him: A Love Worth Dying For

CHAPTER-15

KANIKA'S POV:-

When I saw Nirvaan's name light up on my screen, a rush of emotions surged through me. Deep down, I knew it was wrong—every part of me screamed that it was. But love... love has a way of blurring those lines, doesn't it? In that moment, logic and reason faded into the background. The world around me felt distant, as if it were just him and me, caught in some magnetic pull I couldn't resist. I should have been thinking about the consequences, the way this could unravel everything, but I didn't. My heart drowned out the warnings, the voice of reason that had once been so loud and clear. All that remained was the thrill, the excitement of feeling connected to him, even if it was fleeting. I knew it was dangerous. I knew it could hurt. But all I could think about was how alive I felt when I heard from him. And in that moment, that's all that mattered.

---(*I keep replaying what he said—how it felt like I was the one chasing him, the one always behind. It doesn't sit right with me, and honestly, it's left me confused. I know I liked him first, but that doesn't mean I was the only one interested. He was showing his interest too, wasn't he? He texted me first, he reached out. It felt like we were moving in the same direction... So why did he back off? Why make it seem like I was the one chasing him when we were both involved? I need answers. I never thought things would feel so one-sided, and I deserve to understand why this changed. I just hope I can find the right words to ask him about it.*)---

I replied to his text, and then he asked, "Are you Kanika, right?"

I paused for a moment, thinking... Why would he ask like that? It felt strange, almost like he was uncertain, like he was trying to confirm something. I mean, I know he probably thought it could be my father texting, but the way he asked—it was almost like he was scared of my father.

But then I brushed it off. Maybe it was just me overthinking things. So, I replied, "Yes, I'm Kanika. Don't worry, my father and brother aren't at home right now."

I answered the question he was really asking—without making it too obvious.

 My fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to craft a response to the hurtful words that had been directed at my father. I was about to express my confusion and frustration, to ask why he had said such things, when suddenly, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. The words on the screen made my heart sink, and my mind reel with concern. "You know, it affected my mental health so much," the message read, "I even cut my hand, and it was a deep cut. I can barely write with it now."

 I felt a pang of empathy and worry, my thoughts racing with the weight of those words. How could someone's words have such a profound impact on another person's well-being? I couldn't help but wonder what had led to this point, and what I could do to offer support and comfort. The gravity of the situation settled in, and I knew that my response needed to be thoughtful and compassionate.

I took a deep breath, pushing aside my initial reaction to the hurtful words, and instead, focused on the more pressing concern. I typed out a message, my fingers moving with a sense of urgency and care. "Why did you do that?" I asked, my words gentle and inquiring. "How are you now?" I added, my concern for his well-being evident in the simple, yet profound, question. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should say more, but something about the vulnerability of his admission stayed my hand. I hit send, and waited, my heart heavy with empathy, hoping that my words would be met with a response that would allow me to better understand the depth of his pain.

I didn't even know what I was to him anymore. But when he said he was hurt, I couldn't help but feel it too. Of course I'd be hurt. Even if things were unclear between us, his pain... it was affecting me. I kept thinking that somewhere, deep down, it was because of me. Was it?