Do you think loving is easy? If you ask me—yes, falling in love is easy. But if you ask me whether keeping on loving is easy, I'd say no. Not at all. Especially when you don't even know what the outcome will be.
Sometimes I wonder—has social media killed romance? All these terms—situationships, breadcrumbing, friends with benefits—they've diluted what love used to mean. It's not even about commitment anymore; it's about choosing someone over and over again. Not because you have to maintain a relationship. But because you want to. No conditions. No expectations. Just love.
Maybe I'm too young to say all this. A teenager, barely figuring out life. But emotions? Emotions don't wait for a "right age." We all have our own depths. Some of us feel too much, too soon.
At seventeen, everyone's chasing a mix of things—career, academics, friendships, first loves. I thought I was no different. I imagined a simple future—study hard, get into a good college, maybe find someone stable later. But life has this way of throwing chaos at you, doesn't it?
I met him in that chaos. When I didn't need him. When I wasn't looking. And now, even when I tell myself to let go, something deep inside doesn't allow it.
And then came that day. The day Tammarah made her move—though I doubt she even realized the impact it would have.
During school break, she told Vidya—Shresth's sister—about everything
"Your brother comes to meet Charu after her classes. He even walks her to the bus stop," she said lightly, probably thinking it was harmless teasing.
But Vidya wasn't amused.
She was protective of her brother. Maybe she didn't mean it harshly, but her words came like a sharp line of reasoning:
" "If he's made up his mind about someone else, why give another girl hopes?"
And that… planted the first real wall between us.
Later that evening, Shresth called me.
"Do you know what Tammarah said to Vidya?" His tone was calm but cold—calm in the way ice is calm before it shatters.
I froze.
"What… did she say?"
He told me. Every detail.
My stomach knotted in anger—not at him, but at Tammarah's stupidity. That silly girl! And it didn't end there.
She even mentioned that I had a screen recording of Samriddhi's profile.
Yes. That part was my fault too.
When Samriddhi had reactivated her Instagram account, it was private. Out of a stupid teenage curiosity, I sent her a follow request. She didn't accept. So I asked my cousin—who had her in his mutuals—to send me a screen recording of her profile.
She was beautiful. Classy. Elegant. There was nothing wrong with just looking. But when I showed it to Priyanka at coaching, Tammarah was there too. She'd insisted she wanted to see. I thought, what harm could it do?
Now I knew.
Vidya told Shresth, and suddenly he knew everything—about the follow request, the recording. He must have thought I was obsessed. Maybe even pathetic.
I wanted the ground to swallow me.
And then he said it.
"From now, I won't show up that often. You know how people gossip. It's… unnecessary."
His voice was polite. But distant.
I pressed my lips shut. There was nothing I could say. I just murmured, "Okay," and let the silence stretch.
After the call, I sat there feeling hollow. How easily people can put a label on what they don't understand. How easily a single conversation can undo weeks of effort, of closeness.
That night, I told Priyanka everything.
Her reaction? Pure disbelief.
"She did what ?" Priyanka's voice was sharp. "That girl can't keep her mouth shut. Fine, from now on, we don't tell her anything. Not one word."
I nodded. But deep down, it already felt too late.
Next day at coaching, Tammarah was waiting.
When I walked in, she looked guilty. "Charu… I'm sorry. I didn't know Vidya wouldn't already know. I thought she'd laugh it off—"
I cut her off with a tired sigh. "It's fine. Just… don't talk about it again."
She looked like a scolded child. And I… didn't have the energy to stay angry. I forgave her. What else could I do?
But forgiveness didn't erase the damage.
After that day, Shresth changed.
He became… careful. Almost guarded. Our messages shrank to a few lines. Sometimes a call, but short. No warmth. No lingering words.
I could feel him pulling away.
On 31st August, I went to his town for my cousin Palak's birthday. We visited a café nearby.
In a moment of foolish hope, I called him.
"Where are you?" I asked softly.
"At work," he replied. His tone was clipped. Tired. Maybe annoyed.
I hesitated. "I'm nearby. Just thought—"
"I'm busy. Talk later," he said, almost snapping.
The call ended.
I stared at my phone, the screen glowing with the finality of those words.
I wasn't someone who tolerated disrespect. I didn't have ego, but I did have self-respect. And that tone… I didn't deserve that.
I remembered telling him, long ago, that raising your voice—hurting with words—was never the solution. Calmness was. But here he was.
I understood work pressure. I understood stress. But understanding doesn't mean accepting everything.
Later, he texted an apology.
"Sorry. I was stuck with work. Didn't mean it that way."
Maybe he meant it. But the coldness didn't leave his voice. It lingered. Like a shadow.
Was it because of what Vidya said? Because of what he believed about love—that he could never move on, that he'd wait for the girl he truly loved, even if it wasn't me?
I didn't know. I didn't want to know.
Even my mom noticed by then. She'd always been chill, never questioning my male friends. But she sensed something was different with Shresth. Something more.
And that's when it hit me.
I couldn't keep doing this.
Around 3rd September, I made a quiet decision. To let go.
His behavior—the distance, the tone, the shift—it all pushed me toward that decision.
But here's the thing about life.
When you finally decide to let go, it somehow finds a way to pull you back.
Teaser for Next Chapter:
I thought walking away was the end. But sometimes, endings are only pauses. Just when I was ready to forget him, life decided to test me again. You'll see how he came swinging back into my life when I least expected it…