Episode 18 : "The Silence Between Us"
1028 Words
(Disha’s POV)
The world has gone silent.
Not the comforting kind of silence—the kind you crave after a long day. No.
This silence is heavy. Loud. Unbearable.
It’s the kind that crawls under your skin, fills the corners of your room, seeps into your chest until even your heartbeat sounds too loud, too guilty.
Neha sits beside me on the edge of my bed, her brows furrowed, her thumb gently rubbing circles over the back of my hand. She hasn’t spoken much. Not yet. She’s just watching me with those patient, steady eyes of hers—the kind that say, “I’ll wait. I’ll sit here until you’re ready.”
But I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.
Because how do you tell the person you love most in this world that she is the reason you shattered your own heart?
How do you say, “I broke him because of you”?
---
It’s been two days since that night.
Two days since the terrace became the stage of the cruelest play I’ve ever performed.
Two days since I looked into Sanchit’s eyes, eyes filled with dreams of forever, and forced myself to say the most painful word I’ve ever spoken.
No.
The word haunts me. I hear it every time I close my eyes. I feel it in my chest like a blade I twisted myself.
I still see his face.
The soft smile he wore when I walked through the rain of petals.
The hope lighting his eyes as he held out that ring like a promise.
The disbelief that flickered when I hesitated.
And then—oh, God—the heartbreak.
The way his face just… collapsed.
He didn’t yell. Didn’t demand an answer. Didn’t even try to fight my refusal.
He just stood there, wilting quietly, like the ring he held.
And I—I walked away.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I had to.
---
(Flashback)
We had our own little world. A fragile, hidden one.
The kind you build not with grand gestures, but with stolen glances, late-night calls, and quiet walks back from the academy.
Every evening, he would wait for me outside with that stupid crooked smile of his, leaning against his bike as if he had all the time in the world. And without fail, he’d tease,
“Tera gussa aaj kitna percent dangerous hai? Tandoori, ya nuclear?”
And I, playing my part, would roll my eyes, swing my bag at him, and mutter under my breath. He’d laugh like my annoyance was the highlight of his day.
We had silly rituals.
Like the notes he’d sneak into my bag:
> “Your smile today = 13 butterflies in my stomach. New record.”
> “Stop being cute in class. You’re distracting me. Also… I like it.”
Once, when I thought my career was over because of an ankle injury, I had cried myself into exhaustion. He showed up with chaat, turned on the worst, cheesiest Bollywood songs imaginable, and danced like a complete fool until I laughed through the tears.
That was Sanchit.
Not just my love.
My peace.
My anchor.
And that’s what made breaking him all the more unbearable.
---
(Back to Present)
Neha squeezes my hand now, grounding me in the present.
“Disha…” she whispers, her voice trembling with the kind of gentleness that always undoes me. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve been pulling away for days, and now this…”
Her words claw at me. Because she doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know that she is the reason I’m unraveling.
I bite down on my lip so hard I taste the metallic tang of blood. It’s the only way to stop the scream building in my throat.
Because if I let it out, I’ll spill everything.
The text messages.
The shadow that follows me outside the academy gates.
The envelope of photographs showing me, showing us, proof that someone’s watching.
And the threat that carved itself into my bones:
> “One more step closer to Sanchit and we’ll put a bullet in your best friend’s head.”
One sentence. That’s all it took to destroy everything.
I can’t risk it.
I can’t risk her.
I’ve already lost too much.
---
“I’m fine,” I whisper. My voice sounds wrong, brittle, hollow—like an echo of myself.
Neha’s eyes search my face, her own filling with unshed tears. She shakes her head.
“No, you’re not. You cry in your sleep. You flinch every time I say his name. You’re breaking your own heart in front of me, Disha, and I don’t understand why.”
Her words land like blows. She’s right. Every syllable is true. But truth is the one thing I can’t give her.
I force my face into something neutral. My shoulders tremble as I look away.
“I said no because… I just don’t think we’re right for each other,” I lie. The words taste like ash, burning my throat.
Neha doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way her brows knit tighter, in the way her lips part like she wants to argue. But she doesn’t. She just nods slowly, and then she pulls me into her arms.
And I break. Quietly.
She holds me like I’m fragile glass about to shatter. Because I am.
But she doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know she’s the reason I let him go.
---
That night, after she drifts to sleep beside me, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. Tears slip down my temples and soak into the pillow, silent confessions no one will ever hear.
“I’m sorry, Sanchit,” I whisper to the empty room. “I’m sorry, Neha.”
Because this was the only way. The only way to keep them both safe.
Even if it meant destroying myself in the process.
Because some love stories aren’t written to survive.
Some exist only as shields.
And mine… mine will burn in silence, so they don’t have to.
Even if it means I stop living for myself.
- Writer
