People think heartbreak begins with betrayal.
Mine began long before him.
I keep asking myself what went wrong.
What could have happened so suddenly that a boy who was laughing yesterday is gone today?
But maybe nothing changed overnight.
Maybe everything was already broken.
Maybe I just didn't see it.
I close my eyes and go back.
One year earlier.
Before the lies.
Before the obsession.
Before I became someone I don't recognize.
Back when I was just—
Ashriti Goyal.
The good daughter.
The quiet one.
The rich one.
I was born into a typical Marwadi joint family.
And if you're from India, you already know what that means.
Respect first.
Reputation above everything.
Daughters protected… or as they like to call it—"safe."
Safe inside walls.
Safe inside rules.
Safe inside expectations.
We weren't allowed to stay out late.
We weren't allowed to question decisions.
We weren't allowed to choose wrong.
But we were allowed to have everything else.
Money instead of affection.
Gifts instead of hugs.
Branded clothes instead of conversations.
I never realized what I was missing because I had more than enough.
More gold than I could wear.
More bags than I could count.
More money than I knew how to spend.
Spending one lakh felt like spending ten rupees.
Everyone said I was lucky.
And maybe I was.
Because I was living what every girl dreams of.
Luxury.
Security.
Status.
I was sweet.
Shy.
Naive.
Protected.
And maybe…
A little lonely.
But I didn't know that yet.
Everything was perfect.
Until the message came.
It was just a notification.
A simple vibration on my phone.
Unknown number.
Three words.
"Hi, Ashriti."
And that's how it started.