The sun dipped low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, honeyed glow. Purvi sat at her desk, staring at the half-written essay that had been haunting her for days. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the words refused to come. Instead, her mind drifted—over the past weeks, over the way Karan had been so patient with her, and over the shadow of Ayaan that refused to fade completely.
She had thought she was healing. And she was, in many ways. Karan had been a constant presence, his laughter a balm to her wounded heart. Yet every so often, a memory of Ayaan would slip through—a look, a smile, a whispered promise that once felt like a lifeline. And every time it did, it felt like a betrayal to the woman she was becoming.
With a frustrated sigh, she closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair. Outside, the sky had turned the color of old bruises, heavy clouds gathering like a promise of rain. She hugged her knees to her chest and let her mind wander. She wondered if Karan was thinking of her, or if he was just being kind. She wondered if she deserved to be happy, to laugh, to trust again.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the spell. A message from Karan.
Karan:
"Hey, do you want to grab coffee tomorrow? I know a place you'd love."
A small smile tugged at her lips. He always knew how to make the world feel a little less heavy. She typed a quick reply.
Purvi:
"Sure. I'd like that."
She set the phone down, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again. But as she did, the screen lit up with a new notification—a social media update from Ayaan. She tried to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of her. She tapped the screen and felt her breath catch.
Ayaan was in a photo with a girl—her hair a cascade of auburn curls, her smile bright and easy. They were standing close, too close. The caption read:
"Finally found someone who gets me."
Purvi's heart sank. She stared at the screen, the image searing itself into her mind. She had known this would happen eventually. Ayaan had always craved attention, the rush of being wanted. But seeing it so plainly felt like a punch to the gut.
She wanted to look away, to throw her phone across the room. But she couldn't. Instead, she stared at the photo until tears blurred her vision.
Her mind raced. Had he started seeing this girl while he was still with her? Had every word, every apology been a lie? She felt like a fool for believing in him, for giving him so many chances to prove he could be better.
She set the phone down and wiped her tears angrily. She was not going to let Ayaan ruin her progress. She had Karan now—a man who respected her boundaries, who listened, who cared.
But that didn't stop the questions from swirling like a storm inside her chest.
The next day dawned grey and damp, the air heavy with the scent of rain. Purvi met Karan at the small café he'd mentioned, its cozy interior a welcome refuge from the world outside. He was already there, a smile on his face and two cups of steaming coffee waiting.
"Hey," he said, standing as she approached. He pulled her into a gentle hug, and for a moment, the world felt right again.
"Hi," she whispered, inhaling the comforting scent of coffee and cinnamon.
They sat across from each other, the warm glow of the café lights casting soft shadows. Karan's eyes sparkled as he spoke about his day, the children at the NGO, the funny mishaps that always seemed to happen whenever he was around. Purvi laughed, the sound feeling foreign and yet so natural.
But beneath the laughter, a storm brewed.
"Is something wrong?" Karan asked, his brow furrowing as he reached for her hand across the table.
Purvi hesitated. She didn't want to bring Ayaan into this safe space, but the hurt refused to stay hidden.
"I saw something," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Ayaan. He's… with someone else."
Karan's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "And that bothers you?"
She met his gaze, tears threatening to spill. "I don't know. It shouldn't. I shouldn't care anymore. But it hurts. It feels like I'm being replaced. Like I never mattered."
Karan's eyes softened. "Purvi, you did matter. You still do. To me, to the people who love you. Ayaan's choices say more about him than they do about you. Don't let his mistakes define your worth."
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I know. It's just… it's hard. I feel like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like if I let myself be happy, it'll all fall apart again."
Karan leaned closer, his voice gentle but firm. "Then let's take it one day at a time. I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not him. You deserve to be happy, Purvi. And I'm going to do everything I can to help you see that."
Something inside her cracked open then, a space she'd been holding tightly closed. She let out a shaky breath and managed a small smile. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Always," he replied, his smile warm and sure.
Days turned into weeks, and Purvi found herself growing stronger. She still thought of Ayaan sometimes, but the sharp pain of missing him dulled to a distant ache. She and Karan spent more time together—walking home from the NGO, sharing meals, watching movies on rainy evenings. He made her laugh, made her feel safe. She found herself looking forward to seeing him, to the way he looked at her like she was the most important person in the room.
But even as she leaned into this new happiness, a shadow lurked on the edges of her mind. One evening, as she and Karan sat on the NGO steps watching the sunset, he turned to her, a serious expression on his face.
"Purvi, I need to ask you something," he said.
She blinked, taken aback by his tone. "Okay. What is it?"
He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "Have you heard from Ayaan? Like… really heard from him?"
She shook her head. "No. Why?"
Karan's jaw tightened. "Because he's been asking around about you. Some of the other volunteers said he showed up at the NGO the other day, asking about your schedule."
A chill ran down her spine. "What? Why would he do that?"
"I don't know," Karan admitted. "But I don't like it. You deserve to feel safe, Purvi. And if he's trying to worm his way back into your life—"
She cut him off, shaking her head. "No. I won't let him. Not again."
Karan reached for her hand. "Good. Because you're stronger than that. And I'm here for you. Always."
She squeezed his hand, grateful for his steady presence. But inside, anxiety coiled like a snake. Why was Ayaan asking about her? Hadn't he moved on? The questions felt like an itch she couldn't scratch.
That night, sleep eluded her. She lay in bed, the darkness pressing in around her, every creak of the house sounding like a threat. Her phone buzzed on her nightstand, and her heart lurched.
She grabbed it, hoping it was Karan. But the screen showed a number she didn't recognize. She hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button. Against her better judgment, she answered.
"Hello?" she whispered.
"Purvi," a familiar voice rasped. "It's me. Ayaan."
Her breath caught in her throat. "What do you want?"
"I just… I needed to hear your voice," he said, his voice cracking. "I miss you, Purvi. I made a mistake. She's not you. No one is. Please. Can we just talk?"
Tears stung her eyes. "Ayaan, you have no right—"
"Please," he begged. "Just one chance to explain. One chance to make things right."
Her heart pounded. She thought of Karan, of all the progress she'd made, of the nights she'd cried herself to sleep because of Ayaan's lies. She thought of the girl in his photo, the one who "finally got him."
"No," she said, her voice trembling but sure. "I'm done, Ayaan. I deserve better than this."
She hung up before he could respond, her hands shaking. Tears fell, but they were tears of release, of finality. She had closed the door—and this time, she wouldn't open it again.
The next morning, she met Karan at the café. He took one look at her face and pulled her into a hug.
"He called me," she whispered against his chest.
Karan stiffened, then relaxed, his arms tightening around her. "And?"
"I told him no," she said, pulling back to look at him. "I told him I deserved better."
A slow smile spread across his face. "You do," he said. "And I'm so proud of you."
They sat together, sipping coffee, the world outside the window bright with morning light. And for the first time in a long time, Purvi felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.