13 parts Ongoing She was never the storm-
She was the silence after it.
Iravya Sehgal,
A girl the world overlooked,
Unloved, untouched by affection,
Used like a bookmark in others' stories-
Never the story herself.
Her innocence was her prison,
Her kindness, a curse.
Even her parents never saw her-
Only what they could take.
But he did.
Her best friend.
The boy who saw poetry in her pain,
Who listened when her silence screamed,
Who didn't fix her,
Just held her pieces until she remembered
She was whole.
In a world that dimmed her light,
He became her mirror-
Showing her the glow she'd forgotten.
And slowly,
Softly,
In the spaces between conversations,
In the glances that lingered a second too long-
She fell.
Not loudly.
But deeply.
This is a love story-
Not of grand gestures,
But of quiet revolutions,
Of worth rediscovered,
Of a girl who bloomed in the warmth of a boy
Who finally made her feel seen.
____
