Anup let out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes glinting with a mix of nervousness and long-buried affection. "I have loved you for as long as I can remember," he said, voice barely above a whisper, like a secret finally finding the light. "Since we were kids... since those carefree days we ran barefoot through the fields, chasing butterflies and dreams we didn't yet understand. Since the very first time you smiled at me, and something in my chest shifted—like the world tilted a little to let the sun shine just on me."
My breath caught. My eyes widened, heart pounding like a drum against her ribcage.
Anup looked away for a second, as if gathering courage from the silence. When he met my eyes again, his gaze was raw, open. "I always dreamed of marrying you," he continued, softer now, as if the words themselves were too delicate to speak aloud. "In my head, I pictured it so vividly—us, waking up beside each other, laughing over burnt toast, arguing about silly things like who left the lights on. I saw a future, Harshita... a whole life built side by side."
His voice trembled slightly, but he pushed on. "But you never saw me that way. Not then. And I never wanted to be the reason your smile faded. So I stayed quiet. I swallowed every feeling, every moment I wanted to reach for your hand or tell you how beautiful you looked, even when you were just in an old t-shirt and your hair tied up in a messy bun."
He gave a small, broken laugh, the kind that hides years of silent ache. "And then... when your papa told me you are dating someone else. I broke a little from inside. I stood on the sidelines, helpless, while someone else held the heart I wished belonged to me. And when he hurt you—when he shattered you—I wanted nothing more than to take your pain and make it mine. But I couldn't. I could only be there... watching, waiting, hoping."
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision as my throat tightened. The depth of his confession, the unwavering tenderness in his gaze—it was overwhelming.
"Anup..." I breathed, voice cracking under the weight of emotion.
He smiled gently, the sadness still lingering in his eyes. "I never said anything because I thought... maybe it was better to love you quietly than to risk losing you altogether."
I took a step forward, heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief, guilt, and something else—something that felt dangerously close to hope.
"But I never stopped loving you." His voice trembled, thick with emotion as he reached out, fingers brushing a stray tear from my cheek with infinite tenderness. His touch was gentle, reverent, like I was something precious—something he had cherished in silence for far too long. "And I never will."
His words settled over me like a warm blanket, wrapping around the cold corners of my bruised heart. My breath hitched. I swallowed hard, emotions surging like a tide inside me—grief, guilt, hope, disbelief—all colliding at once.
"But after everything... after knowing that I—" my voice cracked as my throat tightened. The weight of my past threatened to spill over—the betrayal, the shame, the fear that I had become someone unworthy of love.
"I don't care about any of that," he said quickly, firmly, his voice a steady anchor in my storm. He shook his head with conviction, eyes blazing with sincerity. "Your past doesn't change how I feel about you. It never will. You're not broken, Harshita. You're still the girl I fell in love with—the girl who laughed too loudly, who wore mismatched socks, who made the world feel brighter just by being in it."
My gaze flickered up to meet his, searching, desperate to find even the slightest trace of doubt, of judgment.
But there was none.
Only love.
Raw. Unfiltered. Unwavering.
A sob broke free from my chest before I could stop it, and in the next heartbeat, I was in his arms, flinging myself into the one place that had always felt like home—even if I hadn't realized it until now.
He caught me instantly, wrapping his arms around me with a protectiveness that felt like a promise. He held me as though he never wanted to let go, as though letting go would tear him apart. I clung to him, fingers gripping the back of his shirt, burying my face into the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent that made me feel safe.
"I'm scared," I whispered, my voice so small, so vulnerable.
"I know," he murmured, pulling me even closer. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of my head, his lips lingering there as if to reassure me that I was not alone anymore. "But you don't have to be. Not alone. Not ever again."
I closed my eyes, my tears soaking into his shirt, but I didn't pull away. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart stopped racing with fear and started beating with something unfamiliar—peace.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The scars of my past still lingered, still whispered doubts in the quiet corners of my mind. But here, in Anup's arms, I didn't feel like a burden. I didn't feel broken. I felt loved.
And for the first time in a long, long while... I wasn't afraid of the future. Because this time, I wasn't facing it alone.
My breath still trembled as I sat beside Anup, the weight of his confession settling into the quiet space between them. My chest ached from everything I'd just heard—everything I'd felt—but in a strange way, it also felt lighter. He was still holding my hand, as if afraid I might disappear if he let go.
Then suddenly, his brows knit together in concern, and he looked her over again, more intently this time.
"Wait..." he murmured. "Have you eaten anything today?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"You heard me." He tilted his head, the gentleness in his tone now laced with quiet urgency. "Since morning. Have you eaten anything?"
I opened my mouth to lie—out of habit, out of shame—but then I sighed and shook my head.
"No... I didn't feel like it."
Anup exhaled through his nose, a mix of worry and frustration flickering in his eyes—but he didn't scold me. He just gave me a look that said of course you didn't. Without a word, he reached into the paper bag he'd brought in earlier and pulled out a neatly wrapped box.
"I thought so," he muttered under his breath, almost fondly, as he handed it to her. "So I brought you something."
I looked at the box, then back at him, my voice soft with surprise. "You brought food?"
He smiled, a small, sheepish smile. "Not much. Just that samosa you like from the stall near your old college... and some sweet lime juice. I remembered you used to get headaches if you skipped breakfast. Figured lunch and dinner without food must be a disaster."
I stared at him, completely still. The box now felt heavier in my lap, not because of the food, but because of the thought behind it. That he remembered things I hadn't even remembered about myself.
He watched me carefully. "I know you're upset. I know things are messy right now. But you need to eat. Not because you owe anyone anything—not to be thinner, or prettier, or acceptable—but because your body deserves kindness. You do."
My throat closed up, tears threatening to fall again—but this time, they weren't from pain. I nodded slowly, unwrapping the box with trembling fingers. He watched me take the first bite, and when my eyes fluttered shut at the familiar taste, he smiled.
"There she is," he whispered, more to himself than to me.
And for a few minutes, we didn't speak. He just sat with me, watching me eat, letting me have that moment of comfort. Of peace. Of knowing—finally—that someone cared. Truly, deeply, without condition.
Me and Anup sat side by side on the bench, the distance between our shoulders small, but the weight of unspoken words heavy between us. I stared straight ahead, my fingers clasped tightly in my lap. Then, without looking at him, I finally spoke.
"But Why do you love me, Anup?"
He turned his head, surprised not by the question—but by the pain layered beneath it.
"I mean," I continued, my voice quiet but brittle, "look at me."
I slowly turned to face him, eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I'm fat. I'm average. I'm not the kind of girl people fall for. There's nothing about me that makes someone turn their head or look twice. Most of the time, I just... blend in. I've spent years trying not to take up space, to not be seen—because whenever someone actually looked at me, it wasn't out of kindness."
I let out a dry laugh, one that didn't reach my eyes.
"And then there's you. Anup." my voice dropped to a whisper. "You're good-looking, kind, thoughtful. You could have anyone. But somehow... you're sitting here with me. Saying you love me like it's the most natural thing in the world. And I don't get it. I really don't."
Anup didn't answer immediately. He looked at me for a long, long moment. Not in surprise. Not in pity. But like I was the only thing in the world that mattered right then.
And then he said, softly, "I love you because when I look at you, I see you."
I frowned slightly, confused.
"I see the girl who always listens without judgment, even when she's breaking inside. I see the way your face lights up when you're passionate about something, even if you try to hide it. I see your kindness. Your depth. Your strength, Harshita."
He gently reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
"I don't love you in spite of anything. I love you because of everything."
I blinked, and a tear slipped down my cheek.
"You don't have to be anyone else. You don't have to shrink, or hide, or apologize for taking up space. You already take up so much space in my heart."
He paused, his voice thick with emotion now.
"You talk about being average like it's a curse. But to me, you're the most extraordinary woman I've ever met."
My lips trembled. I looked down at our joined hands—his, warm and steady. mine, trembling but held.
"You mean it?" I asked quietly. "Even if I don't change? Even if I stay this way?"
Anup smiled gently, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. "Especially if you stay this way."
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I had to be anything more than who I already was.
I was enough.
And I was loved.