Aayansh’s POV
Ruhi didn’t push me away again.That hurt more.
She simply lived as if I wasn’t there.
Not in anger. Not in drama. Just… absence.
And I learned quickly that this was worse than her yelling at me. Worse than tears. Because this silence wasn’t punishment.
It was self preservation.
I stopped entering rooms she was in. If she came into the kitchen, I stepped back. If she sat in the living room, I took the balcony. I made sure my presence never crowded her breathing again.
Every instinct in me wanted to fix things.
I killed that instinct daily.
Healing wasn’t something I was allowed to lead.
One morning, I heard her throw up in the bathroom.
I stayed where I was.
I wanted to rush in, hold her, tell her it would be okay but she hadn’t asked. So instead, I placed a glass of water and her meds outside the door and walked away.
Later, the glass was gone and she took the medicines That was it.
That was the victory.
Her family tried too awkwardly, painfully.
Her aunt would start sentences and stop halfway. Her brothers avoided eye contact.
Everyone was terrified of saying the wrong thing.
Good.They should be.
One evening, I heard raised voices.
“We should explain why we didn’t tell her,” someone said. “She needs to understand ”
“No,” I said, before I could stop myself.
The room went quiet.
“She understands enough,” I continued, keeping my voice steady. “Explanations are just excuses dressed as concern. If you want to help her listen. Don’t justify.”
No one argued.
Later that night, I felt someone standing behind me on the balcony.I didn’t turn.
“I’m not ready,” Ruhi said quietly.
“I know,” I replied.
Silence stretched between us. Not hostile. Just fragile.
“Then why are you still here?” she asked.
I swallowed.“Because I won’t disappear just because I don’t get to be close,” I said. “I’ll stay where you place me.”
Her breath hitched. Just slightly.
She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t forgive me. But she stayed.
Days passed.
Then one afternoon, she spoke again.“I want therapy,” she said, not looking at me.
“It’s already arranged,” I answered. “But you can cancel if you want.”
She frowned. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want it to feel like permission,” I said.
She nodded once.
That night, her family gathered in the living room. Ruhi stood in front of them small, but unyielding.
“From now on,” she said calmly, “no decisions about me. No secrets. No protection that costs me my agency.”
Everyone agreed instantly.
“If I leave,” she continued, “you won’t stop me.”
More nods.
“If I stay,” she added, “it’s because I chose to.”
Her eyes flicked to me.“And you,” she said softly.
I straightened.
“I won’t chase,” she said. “I won’t reassure you. I won’t promise anything.”
“I don’t need promises,” I said. “Just honesty.”
She looked away.
That night, I slept on the couch. Not because she asked. Because it felt right.
And for the first time since everything shattered, I understood something clearly:
Loving Ruhi wasn’t about being chosen.
It was about not choosing for her ever again. And if one day she decided to walk toward me,I would be right here.
Author’s POV
The house was quiet in a way Ruhi had started to recognize. Not the heavy, suffocating silence of secrets but the gentler kind. The kind that didn’t demand anything from her. The kind that let her exist without explaining herself.
She stood near the window of her room, watching the city lights blur into soft streaks beyond the glass. Nights were still hard. They always were. But tonight, the noise inside her head was quieter than usual.
That scared her more than the pain ever did.Because quiet left space for truth.
A knock came at the door. Soft. Careful.
“Ruhi,” Aayansh’s voice followed, low and hesitant. “Tea. I’ll leave it outside if you don’t want company.”
She didn’t answer immediately.
For days now, this had been their rhythm. He asked. She decided. And he never crossed the line between the two.
“Come in,” she said finally.
The door opened slowly, like he was afraid sudden movement might shatter something fragile. He stepped inside, carrying two cups. He didn’t look at her right away. He placed the tray on the table, then took a step back, giving her space without being told.
That still surprised her.
They stood there in silence for a moment. Not awkward. Not tense. Just… open.
“I remembered you don’t like sugar when your head hurts,” he said quietly.
Her throat tightened.“Thanks,” she replied.
She took the cup from the table, her fingers brushing his for half a second by accident. Both of them froze.
Aayansh pulled his hand back immediately.
“Sorry,” he said at once.
Ruhi watched him. really watched him. The way his shoulders stiffened, like he was bracing for rejection. The way he stayed rooted to the spot, waiting for her reaction instead of assuming forgiveness.
Something shifted inside her chest.
“You don’t have to apologize for existing,” she said softly.
His eyes lifted to hers, startled.
She took a breath. A deep one. The kind she’d learned in therapy. The kind that grounded instead of numbing.
“I’ve been thinking,” she continued. “About everything. About what happened. About you.”
He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t lean in. Didn’t hope out loud.
“I was angry,” she said. “Not just because you hid the truth. But because it felt familiar. Like control dressed up as care.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “I know.”
“And the worst part?” she added. “I hated myself for still feeling safe with you.”
That confession hung between them.
Aayansh’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to feel anything for me, Ruhi. I swear. I never stayed because I expected you to come back to me.”
She looked at him then. “Then why did you stay?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice wasn’t steady.
“Because leaving would’ve made it about me. And this… this was never supposed to be.”
Her eyes burned.
“I don’t want to be saved,” she said. “I don’t want to be protected from myself. I don’t want someone who decides what I can or can’t handle.”
“I know,” he said. “And I failed you before.”
He took one careful step forward, then stopped. “If you tell me to walk away, I will. I’ll grieve. I’ll hurt. But I won’t chase you. I won’t cage you in my love.”
That was the moment. Not the apology. Not the guilt.
The choice.
Ruhi set her cup down with trembling hands. Her heart was pounding not with fear this time, but with something steadier. Something real.
“For the first time,” she said slowly, “loving someone doesn’t feel like losing myself.”
Aayansh’s breath caught.
“I’m still angry,” she added. “I’m still healing. Some days I’ll push you away again.”
“I know.”
“And I might leave someday,” she said. “Not because of you. But because I need to know I can.”
His eyes softened. “If you leave, let it be because you chose to. Not because you were afraid to stay.”
She stepped closer. One step. Then another.
“I don’t want you because I need you,” Ruhi said, her voice shaking now. “I want you because I choose you.”
The words settled between them like something sacred.
Aayansh didn’t touch her. He didn’t pull her in. He waited.
She closed the distance herself.
When she finally reached him, she rested her forehead against his chest not surrendering, not hiding just being there.
Aayansh’s hands hovered for a second before she nodded, barely perceptible.
Only then did he hold her.Not tightly. Not possessively.
Like someone holding something precious that could walk away at any moment and trusting it not to.
“This time,” she murmured to him, “no lies.”
“Never again,” he promised. “Even when the truth is ugly.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “This isn’t the end of healing.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s just the beginning of honesty.”
Ruhi nodded.
And for the first time in her life, love didn’t feel like survival.
It felt like a choice.
Ruhi didn’t pull away from Aayansh immediately.
She stayed there for a few breaths, letting the steadiness of his presence settle into her bones. Not to lean on. Just to remind herself she wasn’t alone anymore not because people surrounded her, but because she allowed them to.
When she finally stepped back, her expression was calmer. Clearer.
“Come with me,” she said.
Aayansh nodded. No questions.
They walked down the stairs together, not hand in hand, not apart either just side by side. Each step felt heavier than the last. Because forgiveness, Ruhi had learned, wasn’t soft. It was sharp. It demanded truth.
The living room was full.
Rishabh bhai stood near the window, arms crossed, tension written across his face. Vikrant sat rigid on the couch, hands clenched together. Shrey hovered near the door a d her whole family was there sitting.
They all looked up when Ruhi entered. Hope flickered. Fear followed.
She stopped in the center of the room.
No one spoke.
“I’m not here to pretend nothing happened,” Ruhi said first. Her voice was steady, but not cold. “And I’m not here to be dramatic either.”
She took a breath.
“I know why you hid the truth. I know it came from fear. And from loving your version of it.”
Rishabh bhai’s shoulders sagged slightly. Vikrant swallowed hard.
“But intention doesn’t erase impact,” she continued. “And what it did to me… I’ll be unpacking that for a long time.”
Silence stretched.
Her gaze lifted, meeting each of theirs.
Vikrant stood up abruptly. “Ruhi ”
She raised her hand. He stopped.
“I forgive you,” she said. “But forgiveness doesn’t mean access.”
That landed hard.
“I won’t be lied to anymore,” she went on. “Not ‘for my own good.’ Not to ‘keep me stable.’ Not because you think you know what I can handle.”
Vikrant nodded immediately. “You’re right,” he said. “I should’ve trusted you more.”
Rishabh bhai stepped forward slowly. “We were afraid we’d lose you,” he admitted. “So we tried to control the storm instead of trusting you to survive it.”
Ruhi’s eyes softened just a little. “You don’t get to decide my strength,” she said. “But you can walk beside me while I use it.”
She turned toward Vikrant last.
“You hurt me,” she said plainly. “Not by trying to save me but by deciding for me.”
His voice broke. “I thought if you remembered everything at once, it would destroy you.”
She nodded. “It almost did.”
Then she surprised everyone.
“But I know your guilt came from love,” she added. “And I don’t want my healing to turn into punishment.”
Vikrant’s eyes filled.
“So this is my boundary,” Ruhi said. “You don’t hide things. You don’t assume. You don’t decide. If something involves my life, my past, my safety I get the truth. Even if it hurts.”
She looked around the room.“Especially if it hurts.”
Aayansh hadn’t spoken once. Ruhi turned toward him.“And you,” she said.
His heart stuttered.
“You don’t step in front of me anymore,” she said quietly. “You stand beside me. If you ever cross that line again”
“I’ll stop,” he said immediately. “Even if it costs me you.”
That was the right answer. She nodded once.
“Good.”
The room felt lighter after that. Not healed but honest.
Rishabh bhai stepped forward and pulled Ruhi into a careful hug, like he was afraid she might vanish.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered.
She didn’t say thank you.
She didn’t need to.
As the family slowly settled into something resembling peace, Ruhi leaned slightly toward Aayansh and murmured, “This doesn’t mean everything’s fixed.”
He smiled softly. “I know. But it means we’re not pretending anymore.”
She met his gaze.
And for the first time, forgiveness didn’t feel like losing ground.
It felt like claiming it.
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