「 ⋆.˚ 𝐀𝐯𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐚 ꩜ .ᐟ」
all he did was to burn himself to provide her warmth but instead of picking up his ashes and embracing them, she brushed them off like a dirt; was it her fault? a naïve stupid girl who wanted his warmth when...
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meera’s pov :
The feeling of rejection is an instant pain that can spoil your mood for as long as it takes you to get over it. However, the pain from one-sided love is more intense than you can imagine.
Just picture this: “You like someone, you tell them you like them, they tell you they don’t feel the same way about you.” You can feel two kinds of rejection pains.
The first being “the pain of your rejected love” and the second being “the pain of not being good enough.” Either way, you are hurt.
One-sided love can be a secret you keep to yourself for as long as you live, and it could slowly fade away till you don’t feel anything anymore. Ultimately, it might be better to open up because you don’t know the reciprocated love you might miss out on.
That’s what I told myself when I realized I loved Avyansh, even though he was never here. But after meeting him and spending a few hours with him, I realized—I didn’t love him.
It wasn’t a joke. I was in love with his absence. I liked wondering what he would do if he were here, imagining that he could love me and make me feel at home. I always said, He’ll be the home I have always craved for. But now, I don’t think he deserves that title.
Homes were never meant for me. I always felt like an outsider. I didn’t belong in homes—I belonged near rivers. I thought of rivers as my home. I put everything I loved into them, and they carried it all away. Funny.
Avyansh isn’t the same Avyansh I imagined—he changed. I’m not complaining. I changed too. I have no right to complain when even I am not the same anymore.
It’s not like I couldn’t find Avyansh all these years—I could have. I could have searched for him and brought him back from anywhere in the world. But I wanted him to find me. He didn’t. It hurt. But it’s okay.
I found him. As my sister’s ex-fiancé. And my husband.
“Meera?”
I turned to look at the entrance of his room—he was here.
“You didn’t change?” He walked in. I was sitting on his bed, staring out the window.
“What is it?” I asked, standing up, holding my lehenga, and walking toward the vanity. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even realize I was still wearing the outfit I had been complaining about.
“Mom called you downstairs for dinner.”
I stared at him while undoing my earrings. “I am not hungry.”
