✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
[ 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋 1 ]
Because this is where love fades and hate resides and intensifies, broken hearts produce the most tragic stories.
Their treachery is told through their bleeding hearts: their unrequited love was never reciprocated. The...
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The video played on repeat in my head, a grotesque loop of horror. My father, his face contorted in agony, his screams piercing the silence of my memory. Acid, burning, searing. And Vidyut, his face a mask of cold fury, the man I loved, the man I thought loved me, was the one inflicting this torture. A sob escaped my lips, a strangled sound lost in the drumming rain.
He had listened to me, really listened, in a way no one ever had before. He had made me feel seen, valued, and loved. He had shown me a world where laughter wasn't a forbidden fruit, where smiles weren't a mask to hide the pain. He had held my hand through my darkest moments, whispering words of comfort, promising me that everything would be alright.
I remembered our first kiss, a tentative touch of lips that had set my heart ablaze. I remembered the way he looked at me, his eyes filled with adoration, making me feel like I was the most beautiful woman in the world.
His words were ringing in my ears. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to ruin everything - everything that I have graved inside it for years. My blurry eyes, making it difficult to see the road. I squinted, trying to make out the blurry shapes in front of me. Suddenly, a pair of headlights appeared out of nowhere, blinding me. A truck, looming large, was heading straight for me.
"Ada!" someone screamed.
My breath hitched. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The truck was too close. I braced myself for the impact, closing my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
Suddenly, there was a screeching of tires, a loud horn, and a jarring jolt. My car swerved violently, throwing me against the side door. I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I had almost died. And in that moment, facing the possibility of oblivion, all I could think about was Vidyut.
The pain, the betrayal, the confusion, it was all still there, but it was overshadowed by a profound sense of loss. I had lost him. The man I thought I knew, the man I had given my heart to, was gone. He had never existed. He was a figment of my imagination, a carefully crafted illusion that had shattered into a million pieces.
