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"Sometimes, the greatest act of love is to let someone go, even when every part of you wants to hold on."

SANA sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping Sidharth’s hand like a lifeline. She couldn’t bring herself to go back to sleep, not after everything she had just seen and learned about him. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she watched him sleep, still haunted by the terror she had just witnessed. His cries, his words—they echoed in her mind, breaking her heart all over again.

“Who was it? Who had hurt him so much that he became like this?” Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint rustle of movement beside her.

She quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand and released his hand, sitting up straight as Sidharth stirred awake.

He let out a groggy groan, holding his head as though it weighed a ton. His eyes remained closed, his voice hoarse and slurred. “Water…”

Sana grabbed the bottle from the nightstand in an instant, and helped him sit up carefully, her movements gentle yet efficient. She pressed the bottle to his lips, tipping it slightly as he took small, unsteady sips.

Once he’d had enough, she placed the bottle back on the table and guided him to lie down again. His body slumped against the bed, his hand half-covering his face as though shielding himself from reality.

“Babe? Is that you?” he mumbled, his voice thick and unsteady. His eyes fluttered open briefly, but he didn’t focus. He was still too drunk to register anything clearly.

Sana hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to respond without breaking down or yelling at him for the state he was in. Neither option felt right. So, she settled for the simplest response.

“Hmm.”

“You… came?” he slurred, blinking sluggishly as he tried to make out her face.

“Hmm,” she replied softly.

“I told you… not to come,” he mumbled, his tone carrying a faint edge of frustration.

“Hmm.”

His brows furrowed slightly at her noncommittal response. “Say something,” he said, his voice low and petulant, like a child seeking attention.

“I don't know what to say,” she finally spoke, her tone calm and composed, though her heart was a mess of emotions.

He let out a breath, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. “I love your voice. Don’t you know that? Say anything you want. I just want to listen to your voice.”

Her breath hitched, and cheeks warmed up. “I didn’t know that,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to hold his. She kissed it softly, the tenderness in her gesture something she didn’t think twice about.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his features softening. Then, he muttered, “Why do you care about me? I’m a bad person.”

Her grip on his hand tightened as her heart ached for him. “Because I can see the good in you, even when you don’t. You’re not as bad as you think, Sidharth. You just need to stop pushing people away.”

Silent word: me.

He smiled bitterly, his head tilting back against the pillow. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” she shot back, her voice trembling but resolute. “I know you’re hurting. I know there’s a part of you that cares—because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have told me not to come tonight.”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze unfocused but heavy with emotion. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Well, too bad,” she said, forcing a small smile to lighten the moment. “I already did.”

His lips parted as if to say something, but he hesitated. Then, in a small, broken voice, he muttered, “You’ll leave me now, won’t you?”

“No. Never.” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “I’m not leaving you, Sidharth.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, save for their quiet breaths. Then, he whispered, “You’re too good for me.”

“Maybe,” she replied, her voice softer now. “But I’m here anyway.”

He blinked at her, his lips twitching into a weak, crooked smile. “Kiss my hand,” he murmured, his tone childlike and needy.

“Huh?”

“Kiss my hand,” he repeated, his voice slurred but clear in his request.

Sana chuckled softly at his unexpected demand. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently.

“More,” he said, his smile growing wider.

She kissed his hand, again.

“More,”

She kissed his hand again and again, each kiss light and tender. His smile widened with each one, until suddenly tears rolled down his cheeks, catching her off guard.

“Sidharth, what’s wrong?” she asked, panic lacing her voice.

“I’m not used to it,” he mumbled, looking away from her.

“Used to what?”

“Love,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Her breath caught in her throat as he turned back to face her. “It makes me feel… awkward. And sometimes… uncomfortable. That’s why I avoid it. That’s why I hurt people… before they can get too close.”

Sana’s tears flowed freely now, but she forced herself to speak. “I don’t love you, Sidharth,” she lied, her voice trembling.

“Good,” he muttered, his thumb brushing a tear off her cheek. A silent proof of her love. “Because if you did, I’d only end up hurting you. And I don’t want to hurt you, babe. So don’t love me.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him how wrong he was, but she held her tongue. Instead, she whispered, “Sidharth, you should sleep now.”

“You’re so beautiful, that it hurts me to hurt you,” he murmured, his words heavy with drowsiness.

“Sleep,” she said, covering him with the duvet and patting his head like a child.

He blinked up at her, once, twice, his eyes heavy but filled with something raw and vulnerable. “Sana, I like…”

“You like?” she prompted, leaning closer.

But he didn’t finish. His eyes drifted shut, his breathing evening out as sleep claimed him.

Sana sat there for a long moment, watching his face, her heart aching with unspoken words. “Do you like me, Sidharth?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

But the only response was the soft sound of his breathing, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the weight of his broken confessions.

---

It was morning when Sidharth woke up with a pounding headache from his hangover. Groaning in discomfort, he looked around and realized he was in his old bedroom. Alone.

Sana wasn’t there.

He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried. Had she left for home alone in the middle of the night after dropping him off? He vaguely remembered Sana driving his car, but it was all blurry. Or was it just a dream? But someone had bailed him out and brought him home—that much was clear.

He glanced down at himself. He was still fully clothed, except for his shoes and socks, which were missing.

“She was here,” he muttered to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

He felt a strange sense of comfort knowing she hadn’t taken him to his current bedroom or tried to change his clothes. She had respected his privacy and his boundaries.

Standing up carefully while holding his aching head, his eyes landed on a glass of water and painkillers placed neatly on the nightstand. Smiling softly, he took the pill with the water, knowing exactly who had left it there.

“She deserves a reward,” he murmured, deciding to gift her something special later.

Grabbing his shoes and socks, he headed to his bedroom for a long, cold shower, hoping to wash away the remnants of his hangover.

After drying himself off, he got dressed in fresh clothes for college and headed downstairs, humming a tune as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a strong cup of black coffee and something to eat. His stomach had been grumbling since his shower. A proper breakfast would help ease his headache.

But his movements faltered when he spotted Sana in the kitchen, busy cooking breakfast—pancakes, eggs and chocolate milkshake. His humming stopped mid-note.

He hadn’t expected her to still be there.

“You’re up?” Sana quipped, spreading pancake batter onto the pan.

“You’re still here?” Sidharth asked, settling onto a stool at the kitchen island, his gaze fixed on her as if to confirm she was real. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “After all, someone had to take care of their drunk and unconscious fuck buddy.”

Her words stung, but Sidharth ignored the jab. He deserved it. After all, she had come to the police station in the middle of the night, alone and brought him home. He owed her that much.

“Coffee?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of strong black coffee.

“No, thank you,” she replied, flipping the pancake with practised ease. “I’m not the one with a hangover, you know.”

“I’m sorry for troubling you like that,” he apologized sincerely. “But, I ask you not to come, right?” His voice carried frustration.

“Yes, you did,” she answered curtly and placed another pancake on the growing stack. “but, I chose to come and save your ass,” she added, spreading more batter onto the pan.

“Then, don’t show me this attitude,” he said, taking a sip of his hot, bitter coffee to calm his anger.

“What if I don’t?” she asked, her voice challenging.

“Do you want some punishment?” he asked, his tone threatening.

“Try me,” she said. “Sir,” she added, provoking him further.

That was it. The sass was starting to grate on him now.

In a few quick strides, Sidharth was in front of her, grasping her face firmly in his hands. His nails dug lightly into her soft cheeks.

“Don’t you think you’re crossing a line, babe?” he asked, his tone was low and dangerous.

Sana’s heart clenched. She wanted to scream at him, to ask why he had hurt himself so many times, why he bore those scars, and who had caused him so much pain. But she swallowed the words and kept her voice calm.

“I don’t think so,” she replied evenly, her tone challenging. With that, she shoved his hands away, turned her focus back to the pancakes, and flipped the one on the pan with an air of indifference.

Sidharth took a deep breath to control his anger. “Babe—”

“Don’t babe me, alright?” she snapped, leaving him stunned.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, confused by her odd behaviour.

“You want to know what’s wrong with me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Turning off the gas, she looked at him with tearful eyes.

“Sana!” He cupped her face gently. “What happened?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

“You.”

“Huh?” He looked at her in confusion.

“You happened to me,” she mumbled. “You lied to me,” she added, grabbing his left hand and pulling it up.

“I lied to you! When?” he asked, still confused.

Sana pulled up his jacket sleeve, exposing his scars. “You lied to me, saying you just thought about ending your life. But no—you actually tried to,” she said, her anger visible in her tone.

Sidharth stood there in shock, watching her gently caress the scars. “You?”

“Yes, I saw them last night,” she said, crying as she held his hand tightly.

Sidharth yanked his hand back and quickly covered it. “You shouldn’t have seen that,” he mumbled more to himself than to her.

“But I—” she gasped in shock as Sidharth threw his coffee cup across the room. It shattered against the floor, spilling the hot coffee everywhere. “What are you doing?”

“Why did you see it?” he yelled, throwing other items around the kitchen. “Why?”

“Sidharth, stop throwing things like that!” she ran  to him to stop, but failed as he continued destroying the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t have seen it! Damn it!” he yelled, his voice filled with both anger and shame.

“I said stop it!” she barked, snatching a plate of pancakes from his hand and setting it aside before hugging him tightly. “Stop it, please.”

“You shouldn’t have seen it, Sana,” he repeated, trying to push her away, but her grip tightened.

“Calm down, please,” she begged, crying silently.

“You shouldn’t have seen me like this,” he said, his anger, shame, and frustration all clear in his voice.

Sana understood why he was angry. It was because she had seen something so personal, so deep, and so vulnerable about him—a bitter past he was ashamed to acknowledge. It was one of his darkest secrets. And now she knew it. He feared she would see him as weak.

“I’m sorry. It was unintentional,” she whispered, holding him tightly.

“You shouldn’t—”

“I know. And I’m sorry for that. But trust me, I’m not thinking what you’re thinking. I don’t see you as a weak person, Sidharth. I don’t,” she assured him, her voice sincere.

Sidharth stood there silently, letting her speak and hug him.

“But yes, I am mad at you—for lying to me and for what you did in the past. I don’t know what you went through, but trying to kill yourself wasn’t the right decision. You should have fought against the monster—” She noticed how his body immediately tensed at the word.

“But I’m glad you are okay. You’re still here. Alive. With me,” she said, her silent tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m sorry for reacting like that,” he whispered, resting his chin on her head without hugging her back. “Apart from my parents no one knows about it. So, I....”

“It’s okay.”

“Thank you for not judging me.”

For a moment, Sana stayed like that before breaking the hug and cupping his face, gently stroking it. “I will never judge you, Sidharth. I was hurt because you lied to me that night, when I was honest with you.”

“I’m sorry again. But I wasn’t proud of myself for what I did,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Because, you, Sidharth Vyas, are a strong man. And I am proud of you,” she said, looking into his eyes to let him know she wasn’t lying.

“Thank you for not questioning me, now,” he said, smiling faintly, feeling better than ever. He wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

“Thank you for being alive,” she mumbled, hugging him firmly.

“Don’t do it, Sana,” Sidharth mumbled softly, his voice trembling with restraint.

“Do what?” she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Don’t get attached to me. Don’t... love me,” he explained, his arms tightening around her as though he was afraid to let her go.

Her heart clenched at his words, but she managed to force a smile. “I don’t love you, Sidharth. I hate you, remember?” she lied, her voice betraying her pain as silent tears began to roll down her cheeks, soaking his shirt.

“Good. Hating me is good.” he murmured, though his voice cracked under the weight of his own emotions. “Because I’ll only hurt you in the end.”

“And you don’t want to hurt me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Exactly,” he replied, his tone hollow, as if he was convincing himself more than her.

“Sidharth?”

“Yes?”

“Do you... like me?” she asked hesitantly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“No.” His response was quick and sharp, his words slicing through the air like a dagger. “I don’t like you,” he lied, his voice steady even as his heart screamed the truth.

In his mind, a storm raged. “I do like you, Sana. But I can’t let you know that. If I do, it’ll give you hope for a future we can’t have. I’m too broken, too damaged to give you the love you deserve. I’ll only hurt you, and that’s the last thing I want.”

Sana’s heart shattered at his denial, but she refused to let him see her break. “Feelings are mutual,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her unspoken love.

“I know,” he replied, his own tears escaping despite his attempts to keep them hidden.

Sana closed her eyes as she clung to him, wishing the moment could freeze in time. “I’ll pray to God, you get all the love and happiness in the world.”

The room was silent except for the sound of their ragging heartbeats, their hearts speaking a language neither of them dared to voice. In that moment, they held onto each other not out of love, but out of fear—fear of letting go, fear of the pain they would endure apart, and fear of the unspoken truth that tied them together.

And as their tears mingled with their silence, they both realized the cruelty of love: sometimes, loving someone means breaking your own heart to protect theirs.

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