The Unseen Scars
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- Parts 3
Ongoing5m
Last published Fri, Jun 27, 2025
My life hasn't been a fairytale. It's been a quiet struggle, marked by a deep unhappiness and a gnawing feeling of unworthiness. The desire for love to give it and to receive it is a constant ache, but it's often overshadowed by a belief that I'm somehow undeserving. I tell myself I don't deserve to be loved, that I'm not worthy of happiness, and that persistent voice makes it hard to believe otherwise. It's a heavy weight to carry, this feeling of being fundamentally flawed, of not quite measuring up.
But there are moments, precious fleeting moments, when the weight lifts. It happens when I'm hiking through a forest, the sunlight dappling through the leaves, or sitting by the ocean, listening to the waves crash against the shore. In those wild, beautiful spaces, I find a kind of peace, a temporary escape from the relentless self-criticism. It's not a permanent fix, not a cure, but it's enough to keep me going, to remind me that there's beauty in the world, even when I can't seem to find it within myself.
I'm searching for a path, a direction, a place where I can finally feel whole. A place where the emptiness inside doesn't feel so vast, where the loneliness doesn't feel so crushing. I don't know what that place looks like, or if I'll ever truly find it, but the hope remains, a stubborn little ember in the darkness. Maybe it's about learning to love myself, to accept the parts of me that feel broken, to forgive myself for the things I've done and haven't done. Maybe it's about finding people who see past the flaws and see the good, the potential, the person I long to be. Whatever it is, I'm on the journey, and that's something. 🦋💙
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It was just one night. One room. No promises. No confessions. Just two people- who should've walked away. But something about the way they looked at each other... The way silence held more meaning than words ever could... Made that night less of a mistake and more of a memory neither body could forget. Now, two years later, they're back. In the same city. Under different names. Carrying the same ache. She has someone new. He almost moved on. But love doesn't always announce itself- sometimes it just lingers. What happens when: - a closed room remembers what the world forced them to forget? - bodies touch again, but hearts hesitate harder? - one mug, one bed, one white shirt brings everything rushing back? "Unfinished things don't die. They wait. In bedrooms like this - with people like us." 🌙 A poetic, slow-burn Hinglish story. Of what was never said, what was never supposed to happen, and what still might - if they dare. Read if you like: ✨ Emotionally mature tension ✨ Silent glances louder than love letters ✨ Bedroom intimacy with poetic restraint ✨ Chapters that feel like old voice notes you never deleted 📌 New Chapters Every day 📍 Instagram + Wattpad Exclusives 💬 Comment "I've been there" if you've ever left a room and still felt touched
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