Ashriti's POV
I don't know how I should feel.
Should I feel regret?
Should I feel anger?
Should I feel relief?
Should I feel broken?
He was once my everything.
My obsession.
My breath.
The boy who made my heart race with one message.
The boy who gave me my first butterflies.
My first love.
My first kiss.
The first person I ever chose over myself.
And now—
I feel nothing.
That scares me more than grief.
Why am I not crying every second?
Why am I not screaming?
Why does my chest feel empty instead of shattered?
Maybe I do feel something.
Maybe it's buried under shock.
Or maybe it's guilt.
Maybe if I had given him more money…
Maybe if I hadn't questioned him that night…
Maybe if I had called earlier…
Maybe if I had been softer.
Better.
Less demanding.
Would he still be alive?
That thought tries to crawl inside me sometimes.
But I don't let it stay.
Because if I start blaming myself—
I will never survive.
The easiest thing to do now is blame him.
He was greedy. He was reckless. He chose money.
And it's true.
He did.
But how do I hate a boy who once made me feel alive?
How do I curse the same hands that held mine?
How do I forget the way he said my name like it meant something?
I don't know if I loved him.
Or if I was addicted to him.
Maybe love and obsession look the same when you're young and lonely.
All I know is—
He chose money.
And I chose him.
And in the end, we both lost.
So now I've made a decision.
No more obsession.
No more anticipation.
No more waiting for someone's message to decide my mood.
I will become what I was always supposed to be.
The obedient daughter.
The typical Marwadi girl.
The one who doesn't ask for dangerous love.
The one who marries who her father chooses.
Safe.
Predictable.
Emotionless.
Because love?
I don't even know if it exists.
And if it does—
It isn't meant for girls like me.
So this is the end.
The end i have chosen for myself.