vibeswithdivs
"I don't know what love is, Abhimaan," I whispered, my voice barely audible, yet it felt as though the words echoed in the heavy silence between us.
I felt his hands still against my skin, as if my words had struck him in a way he hadn't expected.
"I know what people say it is," I continued, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. "I know what it's supposed to look like. I've read about it in books, seen it play out in movies-the way people love so deeply, so unconditionally, the way they fight for each other, stand by each other no matter what. In stories, love is this beautiful, all-consuming force that makes life worth living." I let out a small, bitter laugh. "But that's just fiction, isn't it? Just carefully crafted scenes and words meant to trick people into believing in something that doesn't actually exist."
His brows drew together, his grip on me tightening ever so slightly, but he remained silent, letting me say everything I needed to.
"I don't know what love looks like in real life," I admitted, my voice cracking slightly. "Because I've never seen it. Not once."