"Fractured Hearts Mending Slowly"
For the first time in years, Karishma Singh let himself be vulnerable, his anguish spilling out in Haseena’s quiet presence. It was a catharsis he hadn’t known he needed, and Haseena’s patience and empathy became his anchor in the storm of emotions. Yet, the path ahead remained uncertain, fraught with the remnants of his bitterness and Haseena’s cautious hope.
---
"A Difficult Morning"
The next morning, Karishma avoided Haseena, his shame and confusion overwhelming him. He buried himself in his routine, leaving early and barely exchanging a word with her. Haseena, however, was undeterred. She understood that healing wouldn’t come easily for him.
As he returned late that evening, tired and irritable, he found her waiting for him with dinner set on the table. The soft glow of the candles and her gentle smile caught him off guard.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he muttered, sitting down without meeting her gaze.
“I wanted to,” she replied simply.
For a while, they ate in silence. Then, Haseena placed her spoon down and asked softly, “Karishma, do you ever think about what life could be like if you let go of your anger?”
He froze, her question cutting through the silence. “It’s not that easy,” he said finally. “Anger is… all I’ve known. It’s what kept me going when nothing else made sense.”
“But it’s also what’s holding you back,” she pointed out. “You’re not the monster you think you are, Karishma. Last night proved that.”
Her words struck a nerve, and he pushed his plate aside, standing abruptly. “Don’t assume you know me, Haseena. One moment doesn’t change everything.”
“But it’s a start,” she said, rising to face him. “And I’m willing to be patient, no matter how long it takes.”
---
"A Fragile Gesture"
Karishma sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked at her, and for a brief moment, the anger faded, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. “Why do you care so much?” he asked quietly.
“Because I see the good in you,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Even if you don’t see it yourself.”
Her words struck something deep within him. For so long, he had believed himself unworthy of kindness, of love. But here was Haseena, stubbornly refusing to give up on him, even after all he had done.
Taking a hesitant step forward, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. The warmth of her skin grounded him, and for the first time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he could be more than his past.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Haseena placed her hand over his, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Let me decide that, Karishma.”
TO BE CONTINUED
