Siri's POV:
I hadn't stepped out of the house in seven days. I guess.
No sunlight. No television. No messages. Not even the comfort of music. Just the low hum of the ceiling fan and the silence that came with shame.
Indhu had come every day. Sometimes with soup, sometimes with snacks, always with her soft knock and gentle voice. But I couldn't face her. I couldn't face myself.
I didn't eat.
I barely drank.
I only slept when my body couldn't handle the weight of staying awake anymore.
Every time I closed my eyes, Abhi's face appeared.
Not the boy I once adored.
Not the one who made me feel like I was enough.
But the man I caught red-handed, lips on someone else's neck, his hand slipping down her back, while mine clutched the edge of a doorframe like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
He looked at me that night like I was an inconvenience.
Like I had interrupted something casual.
Three years. Three years, and he shrugged it off like a dirty shirt.
And then…
Then came Bhargav.
His voice. His trembling hands. The way he pulled me close when I had no one else to fall into. The way he looked at me like I mattered—really mattered—even when we were both standing on the edge of our own respective cliffs.
We didn't mean to fall. But we did.
It wasn't love.
It wasn't lust.
I can't forget it. I can't keep telling myself that it was grief meeting grief. Pain crashing into pain. We were two broken people in a dark room who didn't know how to say no to loneliness.
But it happened.
And now it lived in my bones like a scar I didn't ask for.
I didn't blame him.
But I couldn't forgive myself either.
I felt… characterless. Like a shell that used to be someone.
I pulled my phone from the nightstand. My fingers trembled. I hadn't unlocked it in days. A few missed calls from Indhu. One from Amma. A couple of texts I didn't have the energy to read.
And then, in my Instagram DMs, still unopened—Bhargav's last message from a week ago:
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that. Please let me know if you're okay."
I stared at it for a long time.
I didn't know if I was okay.
But I needed to talk. Even if it was just once. Even if it destroyed whatever was left between us.
Because I couldn't go on pretending that night hadn't happened. I can't live like this anymore. Not when I lost myself.
I tapped the keyboard slowly. Typed. Erased. Typed again.
Finally, I sent:
"Can we talk? Terrace. 10PM."
I stared at the message for a long time, my heart pounding in my chest.
Then I turned the screen down and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the weight of 10PM to arrive like a storm I couldn't run from.
….
Bhargav's POV
The terrace breeze was sharp, but I needed that sting. I leaned on the railing, heart racing.
I hadn't seen her since that night. I thought about it every day. I thought about her face. Her tears. Her voice whispering things between heartbreak and numbness.
The door creaked. I turned. She stepped out quietly, arms crossed, her face pale, lips dry. But still, somehow, beautiful.
"Siri…" I whispered.
She didn't say anything at first. Just walked beside me, her gaze on the dark sky.
"I'm sorry I disappeared," she said softly.
"You don't need to apologize."
"I do." She looked at me. "I couldn't face you."
I nodded slowly. "Me neither."
A silence. Then she asked, "Do you still… think about it?"
I didn't lie. "Every single day."
Her eyes softened, but there was pain buried deep in them. "Do you hate me for it?"
"What?" I stepped closer. "Siri, no. I don't hate you."
"I hate myself," she whispered. "I wasn't supposed to let it happen like that."
"I wasn't either. But we were hurting. We lost people we thought we'd be with forever."
She blinked hard. A tear escaped. "I gave three years of my life to someone who didn't even hesitate before tearing it all down."
"I know," I whispered. "I know what that feels like."
She came close and cupped my face with a forced smile.
"Okay then. Don't worry about it anymore. It'll all be gone soon."
We stood in silence for a moment. Then she started to step back, as if ready to walk away. Something's wrong.
"Siri," I said, grabbing her hand gently, "What's going on?"
She paused, back still turned to me. "Nothing Bhargav. Let's leave. It's late." her voice trembled.
"Tell me. You're bad at hiding your emotions." I gripped her hand tighter.
"I don't want to live like this, Bhargav," she said, voice shaking.
My chest tightened. I took a step closer. "Don't say that."
"I wake up every day with this unbearable weight. I feel like I'm drowning. I can't eat. I can't breathe. I've never felt so… alone. I can't step outside like before. It's like I'm tied down by some chains. Chains of guilt and regret. I can't see myself as the same kind of person that hurt me."
"You're not alone," I said, more firmly this time.
She turned, her face breaking. "You don't get it. I gave everything to someone who threw it away. And now I've lost even myself. My character. My dignity and ethics."
"I do get it," I whispered. "Because I feel the same way."
She looked at me. Eyes wide. Silent.
"That night…it wasn't right. But I won't let it be the end of us. I can't. I'd rather make it mean something than regret it for the rest of my life."
"What are you saying?" she asked, confused.
"I'm saying…" I took her hands in mine, "Marry me."
Her eyes widened. "Bhargav, no…"
"I mean it. Not tomorrow. Not next week. But someday. Let's heal together. Let's grow together. We both believe in the same things. We wanted our first time to be with someone who'd love us forever. Then let me make it true."
"You're just saying that because you feel guilty."
"No…," I shook my head. "I mean yes but I'm also saying it because I care about you. Because I can't bear to see you hurting. And because I believe we can build something out of all this."
I fell on my knees, holding her wrists. "Please. I can't live like nothing happened between us. I can't live with the guilt of taking something so valuable from you. And from the regret that I couldn't do anything when I had the chance."
She trembled. "I don't have the strength anymore."
"Then let me carry you until you do."
"Don't give me hope," she said, at the edge of breaking down.
"It's not just hope, Siri. It's a second chance. For both of us." I said looking into her eyes. "And I swear. I'm not gonna break it."
She stared at me for a long time. Her lip quivered. She stood silent for a moment. Unsure. Her eyes fluttered. I could sense it in the faint moonlight. She was on the edge of breaking down. If I don't hold onto her. I can see what will happen.
And I can't let it.
"Can I… hug you and cry?" she asked suddenly. "Just hug and cry. Because… the man I loved. The me I was so proud of… aren't coming back. I want to cry, just this once. Please."
"Yes," I whispered. I didn't look away. I couldn't.
She fell into my arms instantly, burying her face into my chest. Her sobs came hard and fast. I held her tight, one hand stroking her back, the other gripping her shoulder as if I could protect her from every bad thing in the world.
A tear slipped through my eye. Of guilt. Another one of relief.
We kneeled there under the stars—two people trying to build something whole from the wreckage of their pasts.
And for the first time in a long time… neither of us felt alone. For the first time, I argued with her not to fight but to heal. Both of us. To correct my mistake. I had no choice. The words came on their own. But I'm glad I asked her. At least, it'll help her to restore her hope to live. At least for another day.
To be continued…