“Tell me what happened, Ames. Why have you been gloomy, distant, and disturbed since we returned to India? I know it’s connected to your meeting with Karan the night before our return flight. Tell me what happened that stole your peace.” I grip her shoulders, trying to make her look at me, but she stiffens, holding onto her anger.
“Why are you so nosy about my personal life, Rey? Why do you need to know everything about me? Even the closest allies have secrets of their own. Stop pestering me.” Is something seriously wrong with her? This is the first time she’s sounded so irritated by my concern.
What’s going on in her mind?
She reaches for the door to leave, but I pull her back into the cabin. I could not resist asking the one question, uppermost in my mind, telling myself that I should not invade her privacy. I need to know why Amyra is so sad so that I can try fixing the problem.
“One minute. I just want to know, did Karan hurt you that night? Is that why you—”
“It wasn’t Karan,” she snaps, her voice trembling. “It was me. I hurt him, not once, but twice. He did nothing wrong except to love me. He confessed his feelings again, and I rejected him… brutally. Don’t you think I’m the one at fault here?”
The intensity in her voice and the tears shimmering in her eyes reveal emotions she’s been suppressing. But what stuns me the most is the truth she lets slip, raw, unguarded, and entirely unexpected.
“Karan confessed?”
“Yes. He literally begged me to give him a chance and assured me he would handle everything. And what did I do? I listed every possible way the relationship could fail in the long run and convinced him to forget his feelings for me. Wasn’t that heartless? How must he have felt? The pain, the exhaustion, the shattered hope, the broken heart, it must have destroyed his faith in living. Why couldn’t I just love him back?”
Her strained voice, muffled and uneven, mirrors the ache lodged deep in her chest. The tears slipping down her cheeks make it undeniable.
My pupils dilate at the weight of guilt she’s carrying for rejecting him. Though relief flickers within me, it’s quickly replaced by a sharp pang of sympathy for what she’s going through.
“Ames, please stop blaming yourself. This is guilt speaking, not coming from a sane mind. And it’s not wrong to be honest about your feelings just because it disappoints someone. In fact, you saved both of you from a future relationship collapse that could have scarred you forever. Don’t take this so hard. He’ll eventually learn to move on—”
“Move on?” she snaps. “Do you even realise this was his second confession? He should have moved on by now, but no, the hope of getting another chance kept him going, and I failed him again. Don’t you think it’s cruel to be trapped in unrequited love with no future, no reciprocation? Yet people still fall into it. How difficult must it be to forget someone you’ve loved for so long? I wish I could change my heart and give him a chance, but this stupid heart won’t let me.”
She punches the nearby wall twice, and instinctively, I grab her hand, ready to check for any signs of pain.
“You’re losing yourself over someone else’s unrequited love and rejection, something that isn’t even yours to carry. Control your emotions. This isn’t about you,” I caution, aware that deeper feelings might be at play.
“It is about me,” she rebukes, her voice thick with urgency.
Her words hit me like a jolt, a sudden dread creeping up my spine. What if she’s holding onto a love I don’t know about? I can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to unfold.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart pounding, sensing the shift in the air around us.
Her face twists in shock, eyes narrowing with a nervous energy that makes me anxious about what she's hiding from me.
“I–I mean… wasn’t it me who couldn’t accept his love and turned him down?” The realization settles in, but it’s only the beginning.
Why is she always keeping love at bay? Why does she evade the topic every single time? I can't help but ponder what truths lie beneath the surface.
“Do you love someone?” The question slips from me without a second thought, and her reaction is immediate; she freezes, eyes widening, lips parting in a sharp gasp. The silence stretches between us, heavy with possibilities.
Does she really love someone? And if so, what happens next? The anticipation of her answer hangs in the air, waiting to reshape everything we know.
“Ames?”
“No, Rey. I don’t love anyone.” She looks away, and her strange behaviour only deepens my unease.
“Then why are you so disinterested in relationships?”
“That’s personal, Rey. You shouldn’t invade someone’s space.”
“Ames, what’s happening? We’ve been friends forever—why the sudden distance?”
“Because I need my privacy, Reyansh. It’s hard to share everything.”
“I just want to understand what’s holding you back from a relationship.”
