He pecked my forehead and attached our forehead we were breathing heavily due to the ferocious kiss we have shared and damn god he is good, na! na! -fantastic kisser.
"How many times have you kissed before?"
"Never. Ahana never you are my first and...
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"I love you, Ishaan."
"I still love you."
"I never stopped loving you."
"I never hated you."
"But why, Ishaan? Why did you do this to me? You knew everything about me. You know how I am. And yet... you did this to me?" Her voice trembled, barely a whisper, as if the words were dragging the weight of years of unspoken hurt.
I stood there, frozen, utterly dumbfounded. My mind raced, but no words could find their way out. I had no idea how to respond, or even if there was a right thing to say. Yet, despite the confusion and the hurt still lingering in the air, there was something that made my chest feel inexplicably lighter. For reasons I couldn't quite place, it felt like a wave of warmth was washing over me. The truth, the rawness in her words, and the fact that she didn’t hate me—it made my heart swell. She never hated me.
People often say that when we’re intoxicated, we speak the deepest truths, the ones we hide even from ourselves. If even a fraction of that is true, then my heart feels strangely... full.
Her proximity, her words—they filled the space around me like something tangible. The feeling of her so close to my heart was almost surreal, like something I'd only dared to dream about. I had craved this closeness for so long. Each of her breaths seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of my heartbeat, a perfect harmony in a world that had never felt so uncertain.
"Tumhe itne saalo baad khud ke itne paas dekh kar mujhe aisa lagra hai, mujhe mera khuda mil gaya hai." The words slipped from my lips, a whisper, barely audible but carrying the weight of years spent longing for this moment.
"Par mera khuda toh mujhse naraz hai." Her eyes glistened, the vulnerability in them too raw, too real to ignore.
"Ahana, I—" But before I could finish, she cut me off.
"It's okay, Ishaan. You don’t need to explain. Maybe I deserve this... as always. This is just how it always happens to me." Her voice wavered, yet there was a painful acceptance in her words, a surrender to a fate she had never chosen but had somehow become her reality. "I’m used to it now. No... actually, I try to get used to it every day. I tried to get used to it when I was bullied in school, when my cousins tore me down at every family gathering, and when I was molested at my first workplace, and—"
