Never love someone who doesn't care about you

Riya used to believe that love was about patience. That if you waited long enough, stayed quiet enough, gave enough, eventually the other person would understand your worth. She believed love was something you proved—through late-night replies, silent forgiveness, and putting someone else first even when it hurt. She was wrong. But it took her years to understand that. Riya met Aarav during her second year of college. He wasn’t extraordinary in the way movies describe heroes. He didn’t walk into the room and change the air. He didn’t make grand gestures or speak poetic words. He was simple. Quiet. Observant. He sat two rows behind her in class, always scribbling something in a notebook that didn’t look like notes. Sometimes he smiled when professors cracked bad jokes. Sometimes he stared out of the window as if the world outside was calling him. What caught Riya’s attention wasn’t his looks—it was his silence. One afternoon, during a group assignment, Aarav spoke to her for the first time. “You explain things clearly,” he said. “I understood the topic better after you talked.” It was a small compliment. Ordinary. But it stayed with her. They started talking more—about assignments, exams, campus food. Slowly, conversations stretched beyond classrooms. They discussed music, future plans, fears. Aarav spoke about wanting to leave the city someday. Riya spoke about wanting to stay close to her family. They were different, but differences felt interesting, not alarming. When Aarav asked her out for coffee, Riya said yes without hesitation. She didn’t know then that sometimes, easy beginnings hide difficult endings. Their relationship didn’t start with fireworks. It grew slowly, like a habit. Aarav wasn’t expressive, but Riya told herself that everyone shows love differently. He didn’t text good morning every day, but when he did, it felt special. He didn’t call often, but when he met her, he listened. At least, she thought he did. Riya was the kind of person who loved deeply. When she cared, she cared with her whole heart. She remembered small details—his favorite song, the way he liked his coffee, the childhood story he once shared and never repeated. Aarav, on the other hand, remembered things when it was convenient. Sometimes he forgot plans. Sometimes he replied hours later. Sometimes he cancelled meetings because something “came up.” Every time it hurt, Riya explained it away. “He’s busy.” “He’s stressed.” “He’s not like me, and that’s okay.” She learned to adjust. She waited. She compromised. She stayed quiet when she wanted to speak. Love, she believed, meant understanding—even when understanding hurt. To be continued....