"Don't even try."
That's all he said.
No drama, no more words.
Just a tone—like a door not knocked on, just shut.
He never needed to explain.
I stood there.
Shapes ford in my heart—questions taking form.
But my lips... damn, they were bribed into silence.
He pointed toward the alley—the one where darkness settled as if soone had strangled love itself.
"It's a shortcut," he said,
Like telling about so official route,
No conspiracy, no warmth.
I nodded.
Nodded like a corpse.
And said, "Go on, I'll call soone. It's already very late."
I called—
And the machine's voice ca,
"The person you are trying to reach is out of network coverage. Please try again later."
As if love's signal had been cut off.
He laughed—
It wasn't laughter, it was a taunt on this story,
One he perhaps never wanted to write.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
He said, like lighting a lamp—
"See, there's no darkness now."
But there was.
When his shadow swayed under the streetlight,
My fear surfaced—
What will people say?
But this fear wasn't greater than love.
Or maybe it was—because love is just fear.
When we reached ho, he left.
No goodbye,
Just that gaze,
That looks like a courtesan's—silent, speaking nothing.
And I stood there,
As if the alley was swallowing whole.
Just as I reached the gate and opened the door—
Ho.
Mom started.
Every mother in every story is a tired guard
One who fears not her daughter's love, but society's judgnt.
"Hey, you!"
Mom's voice ca, sharp and cold,
Like soone had struck my head with freezing water.
She stood in the drawing room, arms crossed,
Her face marked by all those lines of anger that silently break a person inside.
In her eyes, not fire—poison.
"What took you so long?"
"And what if your father finds out? What will I say? That your life is a film set, and you're wandering the streets in the dead of night?"
I tried to speak, but her words crushed mine.
"And don't lie about the scooter again!"
"The one you just serviced, and now you're pretending it's a tiger, but it's a wreck, a wreck!"
I was tired. Threw down my bag. Said, "It broke down, I thought I'd push it myself—like losing in a show."
But her drama wasn't over.
"If you're late again, I'll hide your helt! Don't act like you're grown up now. These days girls think they're gods."
I gave up, "I'm alive, I'm alive."
I took out ice cream,
As if soothing love's sting with sothing sweet.
But that tub was lting too—just like .
Went upstairs,
Door closed.
All sounds outside.
And inside —
Scattered like an unfinished book.
The fan kept spinning—like it was retelling the story.
And I kept wondering—
"Was I his story?
Or just a page
He'd tear out and give to soone else?"
My lips moved, as if my desires spoke themselves—
"मैंने हर ज़रिया आज़मा डाला,
(I tried every way, every escape...)
पर ये वहशी दिल समझता ही नहीं...
(But this wild heart just refuses to listen...)
इश्क़ अगर होता, तो ठहर जाता,
(If it were truly love, it would've stopped...)
मगर इसे बस तेरा होना दरकार है..."
(But all it really wants—is you.)
This was not love.
It was just a gaze.
A gaze that reads but doesn't understand.
And maybe... love is only this much.
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