๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ - Chapter 14: Chapter 14
You are reading ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ, Chapter 14: Chapter 14. Read more chapters of ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ.
Akshara POV:
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the airplane window, watching the clouds drift lazily below.
The hum of the engines filled the cabin, but my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. It was as if the physical distance between Colombo and Mumbai was the only thing that could give me some space to breathe, but in reality, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of everything I had just experienced.
Colombo had been an adventure in so many ways. The trip, in itself, had been unexpected-a whirlwind of cricket, camaraderie, and an undercurrent of emotions that had been difficult to ignore. I had never imagined I would be so immersed in the world of cricket, much less be surrounded by the players themselves.
To watch the Asia Cup final from the stands, to feel the energy of the crowd, to witness India's victory-it had been surreal.
And yet, in the midst of all the celebration, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. As the Indian cricket team reveled in their hard-earned victory, I had found myself lingering on the edges of their circle.
The players, especially the ones closest to Me -Shubman, Ishan, Devdutt-had been kind, but there was a distinct separation. They were there, in their element, while I hovered somewhere on the outside, a quiet observer. It was as if I didn't quite belong.
The only real comfort I had found had been in Prarthana. Our connection had been unexpected, but the ease with which we had bonded was undeniable.
Prarthana had been a breath of fresh air in the chaotic atmosphere of the tournament. Where everyone else had been consumed by the intensity of the game, Prarthana had offered me moments of peace, of normalcy.
The conversations with her had felt genuine, and I had found myself opening up in ways I hadn't anticipated.
But despite my newfound friendship, my mind always drifted back to Shubman.
I had tried, hadn't I? I had made an effort to connect with him, to break through the walls that seemed to surround him whenever they were together.
I had accompanied Shahneel Di to Colombo, with the hope that this trip could be a chance for ud to grow closer, to build something real, despite the circumstances. But it had been nothing like I imagined.
Every time I spoke to him, every exchange felt like a carefully measured step. He was polite, cordial, but distant. He smiled, but it was always brief, as if he were doing it out of obligation.
He never truly seemed to see me. And when we were alone, it was even worse. He became even more guarded, as though afraid that even a hint of warmth might cross some invisible line.
I could understand why he was distant. After all, our engagement wasn't born out of love-it was an arrangement, a formality, something that our parents had orchestrated.
I had known this from the beginning.
But I had hoped that with time, things would change. That maybe, just maybe, we would find a way to connect. To build something that felt less like a duty and more like a relationship.
But now, after spending days in his company, I couldn't help but feel as if I am an unwelcome guest in his life. It was as if I didn't belong there, and every interaction with him only reinforced that feeling.
I felt like I was invisible, a mere shadow in his world, someone he tolerated rather than someone he genuinely cared about.
My thoughts drifted to Prarthana and Devdutt. I had witnessed the ease with which they interacted, the way they seemed to communicate without words, the natural comfort they shared.
It was a connection that went beyond friendship, beyond love-it was a partnership. They had something real, something I could only dream of.
And as I watched them, I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. Not for them, but for myself. For something that felt as effortless and natural as what they had.
I wasn't naรฏve enough to expect Shubman to fall in love with me overnight.
But I had hoped for more than this-more than the empty exchanges, more than the silence that seemed to hang between us whenever we were alone. I had hoped for something that resembled a partnership, even if it wasn't love.
But now, as I sat in the airplane, staring out at the endless stretch of clouds below me, I couldn't ignore the feeling of defeat settling in my chest.
I am tired of hoping, tired of trying to force something that wasn't there. Maybe I had been fooling myself all along. Maybe Shubman didn't want this. Maybe I am just a name on a list, a convenient choice made for reasons that had nothing to do with me.
I let out a shaky breath, the realization cutting through me like a knife. He was polite, yes. He was courteous, yes. But it didn't go beyond that.
And deep down, I knew it would never go beyond that. He isn't ready to open up to me, to let me in, and no amount of effort on my part would change that.
But still, the ache in my chest wouldn't go away. There was a part of me that refused to let go of the possibility, the small flicker of hope that maybe, someday, things could be different.
That maybe, just maybe, Shubman would start seeing me for who I really am. That he would stop hiding behind his walls and let me in.
But as the plane descended, the sinking sun casting a warm golden glow over the clouds, I couldn't help but feel a sense of finality.
Maybe it was time to stop hoping. Maybe it was time to accept the reality of the situation. I am not the woman he wanted, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't force myself into a life that wasn't mine.
The thought stung, but I couldn't deny it. It was time to let go.
Yet, even as I told myself this, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that easy. The ache in my heart told me otherwise.
Because no matter how much I tried to convince myself, a part of me still clung to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.
But for now, as the plane touched down and the world outside grew clearer, all I could do was breathe.
The ache was still there, lingering, but perhaps, with time, it would fade. Perhaps, with time, I would learn to let go of the hope that I had clung to for far too long.
I walked through the airport terminal, my steps steady but my heart weighed down by a familiar ache.
Shahneel Di's lively chatter filled the space between us, but I am not entirely present. I nodded and smiled when necessary, keeping up appearances, but my mind wandered to Shubman-the man I am engaged to yet felt so distant from.
Out of habit, my eyes searched for him, and I found him a few steps behind. He was looking at me, though he quickly averted his gaze when I caught him.
I couldn't decipher the emotions in his eyes, but the way he had been avoiding me lately had only deepened the chasm between us.
I sighed softly, adjusting the strap of my handbag. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
When I had agreed to this engagement, I had known it wouldn't be easy. Shubman had made no secret of his reservations, his reluctance. But I had believed that with time, they could find a way to make it work.
Now, months later, that belief was wearing thin.
"Akshara," Shahneel Di said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You okay?"
I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired."
Shahneel Di gave me a sympathetic look but didn't press further. I was grateful for that. I didn't want to burden anyone with the emotions I couldn't quite put into words.
A voice interrupted me thoughts, and I turned to see Shubman calling out to Shahneel Di.
"Can I borrow Akshara for a minute?" he asked, his tone firm but calm.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden request. Shahneel Di gave me an encouraging smile before walking off, leaving me alone with Shubman.
"What is it?" I mumbled, my voice gentle but cautious.
Shubman hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching mine. He looked... vulnerable. It was a side of him I rarely saw, and it made my heart ache.
In Colombo, may be he was silent and reserved with me but I had seen his playful, lively and bubbly personality. He is a cheerful person and his playful banter with Ishan and with other teammates was so endearing. How everyone adored him.
"I need to talk to you," he said finally, his voice quieter now.
I nodded, though my stomach twisted with apprehension. Whatever this was, it felt important.
"I've been unfair to you," he began, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I've been distant, cold, and... I haven't given you any reason to believe this engagement could work."
His words struck a chord, and I felt my breath catch. I have told myself
I was fine, that I could handle his indifference, but hearing him acknowledge it was like reopening a wound I have been trying to ignore.
Shubman raised a hand, signaling me to let him continue, and I stayed silent, though my emotions threatened to spill over.
"I've been scared," he admitted, his voice raw. "I've been holding onto things from my past-hurts, fears, insecurities-and I've let them control me. I've let them come between us. But the thing is... I don't want them to anymore."
My heart raced, and I didn't know what to say. Was this real? Was he truly opening up to me?
"I see you, Akshara," he said, his voice steadying. "I see how hard you've been trying, how patient and kind you've been, even when I've given you nothing in return. And it's not because you don't deserve more-it's because you do. You deserve everything. You deserve someone who will meet you halfway, who will try as hard as you do, who will be there for you."
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. I have waited so long to hear these words, to feel like I am not alone in this relationship.
He stepped closer, his gaze locked on mine. "I don't know if I can be that person right away. But I want to try. I want to give us a chance."
My heart twisted, torn between hope and the lingering pain of months of silence and distance. I wanted to believe him, to trust that his words were more than just a fleeting moment of guilt.
"Why now?" I asked quietly, my voice trembling.
Shubman exhaled slowly, his expression filled with an honesty that took my breath away. "Because I'm tired of running. And because I realized that the thought of losing you scares me more than anything else. I don't want to lose you, Akshara."
His words hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I looked away, my mind racing. I had been trying so hard to keep this engagement afloat, but the truth was, I couldn't do it alone. I needed him to want this as much as I did.
"I don't know what to say," I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I've been trying so hard to make this work, Shubman, but I can't do it alone. I need you to want this too. Not out of guilt or obligation, but because you truly want it."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know," he said softly. "And I do. I won't pretend that I have all the answers or that I'm suddenly going to be perfect at this. But I want to try. With you."
My walls, carefully built over months of disappointment, began to crack. For the first time, I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes, a sincerity that made her want to believe him.
"Okay," I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me. "Let's try."
The relief on his face was almost tangible, and it eased some of the weight on her chest. It wasn't a solution, and it wouldn't erase the hurt of the past, but it was a start.
As we walked toward the baggage claim together, I felt a shift within me. For months, I had felt like I was fighting this battle alone, but now, for the first time, I felt like I had a partner.
It wasn't everything I have hoped for, but it was enough for now. And as I glanced at Shubman, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way to something more.
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the airplane window, watching the clouds drift lazily below.
The hum of the engines filled the cabin, but my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. It was as if the physical distance between Colombo and Mumbai was the only thing that could give me some space to breathe, but in reality, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of everything I had just experienced.
Colombo had been an adventure in so many ways. The trip, in itself, had been unexpected-a whirlwind of cricket, camaraderie, and an undercurrent of emotions that had been difficult to ignore. I had never imagined I would be so immersed in the world of cricket, much less be surrounded by the players themselves.
To watch the Asia Cup final from the stands, to feel the energy of the crowd, to witness India's victory-it had been surreal.
And yet, in the midst of all the celebration, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. As the Indian cricket team reveled in their hard-earned victory, I had found myself lingering on the edges of their circle.
The players, especially the ones closest to Me -Shubman, Ishan, Devdutt-had been kind, but there was a distinct separation. They were there, in their element, while I hovered somewhere on the outside, a quiet observer. It was as if I didn't quite belong.
The only real comfort I had found had been in Prarthana. Our connection had been unexpected, but the ease with which we had bonded was undeniable.
Prarthana had been a breath of fresh air in the chaotic atmosphere of the tournament. Where everyone else had been consumed by the intensity of the game, Prarthana had offered me moments of peace, of normalcy.
The conversations with her had felt genuine, and I had found myself opening up in ways I hadn't anticipated.
But despite my newfound friendship, my mind always drifted back to Shubman.
I had tried, hadn't I? I had made an effort to connect with him, to break through the walls that seemed to surround him whenever they were together.
I had accompanied Shahneel Di to Colombo, with the hope that this trip could be a chance for ud to grow closer, to build something real, despite the circumstances. But it had been nothing like I imagined.
Every time I spoke to him, every exchange felt like a carefully measured step. He was polite, cordial, but distant. He smiled, but it was always brief, as if he were doing it out of obligation.
He never truly seemed to see me. And when we were alone, it was even worse. He became even more guarded, as though afraid that even a hint of warmth might cross some invisible line.
I could understand why he was distant. After all, our engagement wasn't born out of love-it was an arrangement, a formality, something that our parents had orchestrated.
I had known this from the beginning.
But I had hoped that with time, things would change. That maybe, just maybe, we would find a way to connect. To build something that felt less like a duty and more like a relationship.
But now, after spending days in his company, I couldn't help but feel as if I am an unwelcome guest in his life. It was as if I didn't belong there, and every interaction with him only reinforced that feeling.
I felt like I was invisible, a mere shadow in his world, someone he tolerated rather than someone he genuinely cared about.
My thoughts drifted to Prarthana and Devdutt. I had witnessed the ease with which they interacted, the way they seemed to communicate without words, the natural comfort they shared.
It was a connection that went beyond friendship, beyond love-it was a partnership. They had something real, something I could only dream of.
And as I watched them, I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. Not for them, but for myself. For something that felt as effortless and natural as what they had.
I wasn't naรฏve enough to expect Shubman to fall in love with me overnight.
But I had hoped for more than this-more than the empty exchanges, more than the silence that seemed to hang between us whenever we were alone. I had hoped for something that resembled a partnership, even if it wasn't love.
But now, as I sat in the airplane, staring out at the endless stretch of clouds below me, I couldn't ignore the feeling of defeat settling in my chest.
I am tired of hoping, tired of trying to force something that wasn't there. Maybe I had been fooling myself all along. Maybe Shubman didn't want this. Maybe I am just a name on a list, a convenient choice made for reasons that had nothing to do with me.
I let out a shaky breath, the realization cutting through me like a knife. He was polite, yes. He was courteous, yes. But it didn't go beyond that.
And deep down, I knew it would never go beyond that. He isn't ready to open up to me, to let me in, and no amount of effort on my part would change that.
But still, the ache in my chest wouldn't go away. There was a part of me that refused to let go of the possibility, the small flicker of hope that maybe, someday, things could be different.
That maybe, just maybe, Shubman would start seeing me for who I really am. That he would stop hiding behind his walls and let me in.
But as the plane descended, the sinking sun casting a warm golden glow over the clouds, I couldn't help but feel a sense of finality.
Maybe it was time to stop hoping. Maybe it was time to accept the reality of the situation. I am not the woman he wanted, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't force myself into a life that wasn't mine.
The thought stung, but I couldn't deny it. It was time to let go.
Yet, even as I told myself this, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that easy. The ache in my heart told me otherwise.
Because no matter how much I tried to convince myself, a part of me still clung to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.
But for now, as the plane touched down and the world outside grew clearer, all I could do was breathe.
The ache was still there, lingering, but perhaps, with time, it would fade. Perhaps, with time, I would learn to let go of the hope that I had clung to for far too long.
I walked through the airport terminal, my steps steady but my heart weighed down by a familiar ache.
Shahneel Di's lively chatter filled the space between us, but I am not entirely present. I nodded and smiled when necessary, keeping up appearances, but my mind wandered to Shubman-the man I am engaged to yet felt so distant from.
Out of habit, my eyes searched for him, and I found him a few steps behind. He was looking at me, though he quickly averted his gaze when I caught him.
I couldn't decipher the emotions in his eyes, but the way he had been avoiding me lately had only deepened the chasm between us.
I sighed softly, adjusting the strap of my handbag. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
When I had agreed to this engagement, I had known it wouldn't be easy. Shubman had made no secret of his reservations, his reluctance. But I had believed that with time, they could find a way to make it work.
Now, months later, that belief was wearing thin.
"Akshara," Shahneel Di said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You okay?"
I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired."
Shahneel Di gave me a sympathetic look but didn't press further. I was grateful for that. I didn't want to burden anyone with the emotions I couldn't quite put into words.
A voice interrupted me thoughts, and I turned to see Shubman calling out to Shahneel Di.
"Can I borrow Akshara for a minute?" he asked, his tone firm but calm.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden request. Shahneel Di gave me an encouraging smile before walking off, leaving me alone with Shubman.
"What is it?" I mumbled, my voice gentle but cautious.
Shubman hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching mine. He looked... vulnerable. It was a side of him I rarely saw, and it made my heart ache.
In Colombo, may be he was silent and reserved with me but I had seen his playful, lively and bubbly personality. He is a cheerful person and his playful banter with Ishan and with other teammates was so endearing. How everyone adored him.
"I need to talk to you," he said finally, his voice quieter now.
I nodded, though my stomach twisted with apprehension. Whatever this was, it felt important.
"I've been unfair to you," he began, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I've been distant, cold, and... I haven't given you any reason to believe this engagement could work."
His words struck a chord, and I felt my breath catch. I have told myself
I was fine, that I could handle his indifference, but hearing him acknowledge it was like reopening a wound I have been trying to ignore.
Shubman raised a hand, signaling me to let him continue, and I stayed silent, though my emotions threatened to spill over.
"I've been scared," he admitted, his voice raw. "I've been holding onto things from my past-hurts, fears, insecurities-and I've let them control me. I've let them come between us. But the thing is... I don't want them to anymore."
My heart raced, and I didn't know what to say. Was this real? Was he truly opening up to me?
"I see you, Akshara," he said, his voice steadying. "I see how hard you've been trying, how patient and kind you've been, even when I've given you nothing in return. And it's not because you don't deserve more-it's because you do. You deserve everything. You deserve someone who will meet you halfway, who will try as hard as you do, who will be there for you."
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. I have waited so long to hear these words, to feel like I am not alone in this relationship.
He stepped closer, his gaze locked on mine. "I don't know if I can be that person right away. But I want to try. I want to give us a chance."
My heart twisted, torn between hope and the lingering pain of months of silence and distance. I wanted to believe him, to trust that his words were more than just a fleeting moment of guilt.
"Why now?" I asked quietly, my voice trembling.
Shubman exhaled slowly, his expression filled with an honesty that took my breath away. "Because I'm tired of running. And because I realized that the thought of losing you scares me more than anything else. I don't want to lose you, Akshara."
His words hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I looked away, my mind racing. I had been trying so hard to keep this engagement afloat, but the truth was, I couldn't do it alone. I needed him to want this as much as I did.
"I don't know what to say," I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I've been trying so hard to make this work, Shubman, but I can't do it alone. I need you to want this too. Not out of guilt or obligation, but because you truly want it."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know," he said softly. "And I do. I won't pretend that I have all the answers or that I'm suddenly going to be perfect at this. But I want to try. With you."
My walls, carefully built over months of disappointment, began to crack. For the first time, I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes, a sincerity that made her want to believe him.
"Okay," I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me. "Let's try."
The relief on his face was almost tangible, and it eased some of the weight on her chest. It wasn't a solution, and it wouldn't erase the hurt of the past, but it was a start.
As we walked toward the baggage claim together, I felt a shift within me. For months, I had felt like I was fighting this battle alone, but now, for the first time, I felt like I had a partner.
It wasn't everything I have hoped for, but it was enough for now. And as I glanced at Shubman, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way to something more.
End of ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ Chapter 14. Continue reading Chapter 15 or return to ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ book page.