Arnav scoffed, leaning back slightly. “Of course not. What would be the point? Doing anything would be a waste of time. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
“But sometimes situations like this trigger old wounds,” she said gently, “when old wounds get reopened, people act on impulse. They lash out. Even good people. Sometimes, they cross a line, hoping it’ll make them feel better.”
She paused, watching him. “Some characters in films do reckless things in moments like this. Things that break the law. Things that break themselves. And you know? people who go too far because they can’t hold the pain anymore.”
Arnav gave her a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth lifting in tired amusement. “I know you’re a screenwriter, but that… that sounds like something straight out of a clichéd movie
