DIYA'S POV
The night after the call was a graveyard of silence.
But I didn't cry.
I couldn't.
My tears had crystallized into something harder, sharper—resolve.
Hours bled into dawn as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my heartbeat a slow, steady drum.
Love isn't chains.
Love isn't begging someone to stay when they're already halfway gone.
Love—real love—is opening your hands and trusting they'll come back.
Even if they don't.
Morning light spilled across my bed when I finally picked up my phone. His contact photo smiled back at me—that lazy grin, those warm eyes. My thumb hovered.
He wouldn't call first. He never did.
So I did what I'd always done.
I reached out.
The screen flickered to life, his face filling the frame. "Hey… good morning," he said, voice rough with sleep and something else—guilt?
I forced a smile. "Hey."
Relief softened his features. He launched into small talk, grasping for normalcy like a lifeline.
But I was done pretending.
"Maddy," I interrupted, gentle but firm.
He froze. "Yeah?"
"I think… we should take a break."
His breath hitched. The color drained from his face. "What?"
"It's been heavy for both of us," I said, voice steady as steel. "And I heard you. Even if you didn't say it to me."
Shock. Guilt. Then—heartbreak. Raw and unfiltered.
"You know?" he whispered.
I nodded. "Aarav helped. I was on the call."
Maddy's head dropped, his voice cracking. "Diya…"
"You didn't say anything wrong," I cut in. "You were honest. And that's okay. But I won't pretend I don't see it. I won't love you so hard it feels like a cage."
His eyes lifted, glassy with unshed tears. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"I know," I murmured. "But hurting me slowly… hurts more."
Silence. Thick. Suffocating.
Then—
"Look at me," he begged, voice breaking. "Please, Diya. Just… look into my eyes."
I couldn't.
If I did, I'd shatter.
If I met his gaze, I'd crumble and take it all back—every word, every boundary.
So I kept my eyes lowered.
He understood.
"Just a few days," he choked out. "I just need… time. To think. To breathe. Then we'll talk. I promise."
I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat.
This wasn't goodbye.
Not yet.
But it was a pause—one I never wanted, one that carved a hollow space between us.
And still… I gave it to him.
Because sometimes, love means stepping back—
So the person you love can step forward.
Even if it's without you.
And in that quiet surrender, I felt something new rise inside me—
Not just pain.
Strength.