Forever His

Chapter 86: Closed doors

⚠️TW: Sexual Assualt⚠️ (skip if needed)

Mahnoor's POV:

I sit in the middle of my walk-in closet, legs tucked beneath me, surrounded by shadows and silence. The kind of silence that doesn't just fill a room—it fills your bones. My laptop rests on my lap like a confession I've read a thousand times but still don't understand.

I open the folder. HIM.

Every file is another piece of my heart that I've never had the courage to say out loud. I click one open, and my own words stare back at me.

He walks like storms obey his call,
But breaks in silence when night falls.
His smile hides a war inside,
And in his eyes, the pain can't hide.

I learned his silence, mapped his gaze,
Watched his fire flicker through haze.
I shouldn't care, I shouldn't ache,
But even now—I break, I break.

And then there's this one—I remember writing it at 2:17AM with my heart in my throat and my hands trembling.

I hate the way I see your face,
In every calm, in every place.
I hate that I still feel your pain,
When you're the storm, and I'm the rain.

I'm crying before I even realise it. Quiet, bitter tears. I don't even try to stop them anymore.

I open a blank page and start typing again. Maybe this will help me breathe. Maybe not.

I was supposed to hate you, bleed you dry,
Leave you drowning, never cry.
But here I am, hands full of grace,
Writing poems in your empty space.

I never meant to be your wound,
But I became it far too soon.
You looked at me like I was whole,
Not the girl who lost her soul.

How do I confess to a man turned stone,
When I knock on doors he's already closed?
How do I say, "I love you too,"
To someone who swears I never do?

How do I reach the man in flames,
When every whisper sounds like blame?
When every truth I try to show,
He hears as lies—he doesn't know.

I never touched your world to break,
I only loved the cracks and ache.
But now you look at me and burn,
As if I'm fire and not the fern.

I swear I held your hurt like mine,
I swore to love you past the line.
But maybe I was far too late,
To meet a heart so full of hate.

You say I never felt it too,
But darling, what else could I do?
When all you gave were walls and war,
And still I stayed, and loved you more.

I stare at the screen, reading the poem over and over until the words blur. How do I prove to him that he's wrong? That I love him. That I never meant to make him feel unwanted. He's never looked at me the way he did earlier today. As if I'm the villain in a story I never meant to be part of.

I slam the laptop shut and wipe my face, standing up with purpose. I can't stay here. Not like this.

I grab my phone and start looking up hotels nearby. There are rooms—several actually—but every time I try to book, the site crashes. Of course.

With a huff, I hit "call." The phone rings. A woman picks up, her voice curt. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm trying to book a room for a week. Your website's not working—"

"No rooms available."

I blink. "But it says there are online."

"No. Nothing for you. Bye."