🏙️ “Long-Distance Love, Close-Distance Pain” - Chapter 7

 

đź’” Chapter 7: His Side of the Story

"People talk about the one who waited. But no one asks why the other never returned."

Aditya’s Apartment, 2:12 AM.

He couldn’t sleep.

Not after the way she looked at him today — not with hatred, but with something worse.

Disappointment.

And that cut deeper than rage ever could.

He poured himself a glass of water and sat by the window, watching the distant city lights. A city where she had survived without him. A city where he once imagined they'd build their future.

But instead…
He had become the man she had to heal from.

Flashback: London. A year ago.

Aditya sat alone in his cramped apartment, surrounded by open textbooks and unpaid bills.
His part-time job as a café assistant barely covered rent.
His coursework was overwhelming.
His father had just had a health scare back in India.

And above all, there was guilt.

Guilt that he couldn’t keep up with her love anymore.
Guilt that he wasn’t the same boy who promised the world at the airport.
Guilt that every time her name flashed on his screen, it reminded him of who he was failing to be.

There were nights he stared at her messages, typed back, and deleted the words.

What do you say to the one who believes in you… when you don’t?

So, slowly… he vanished.

Not out of indifference.

But out of fear.

Present Day.

He stared at her photo on his phone — one from college, where she sat cross-legged on the library floor, reading, unaware he was capturing her.

A soft smile escaped him.

“I never stopped loving you, Aditi,” he whispered.
“I just didn’t know how to love you when I hated myself.”

The next day, at office.

He arrived early.

Laid out the proposal drafts. Prepared every talking point. Checked his posture. Rehearsed answers.

Because today wasn’t just about business.

Today was about owning up.

Meeting Room. 11:00 AM.

Aditi walked in, crisp in a navy blue blazer, hair tied in a low ponytail. Calm. Controlled. Commanding.

“Let’s begin,” she said.

He didn’t interrupt this time.

He listened. He noted her points. He complimented her strategies with genuine admiration. No agenda. No flirting. Just… respect.

And finally, when the meeting was over and the team stepped out, he stayed behind.

“Aditi,” he said, standing.

She sighed. “Aditya, we—”

“No. Just let me say this. Once. No interruptions.”

She folded her arms, cautiously silent.

“I ghosted you. I shut down. And I didn’t give you the truth. So here it is…”

He looked her in the eye.

“I felt like a failure in London. Like I was drowning in a life I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t want you to see that version of me. The broken, scared version. So I pushed you away thinking I’d come back stronger. But time slipped. And by the time I looked back—”
He paused, breath shaky.
“You were already gone.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly. Not with tears. But with control. She didn’t want to feel this.

“I didn’t stop loving you,” he said softly. “But I stopped deserving you.”

She turned away, looking at the window.

After a long pause, she spoke.

“Closure doesn’t mean hearing an apology. It means no longer needing one.”

He nodded.

“And I’m not here to win you back, Aditi. Not unless you want that. I’m just… here. No more disappearing.”

She looked at him then — truly looked.

There was no charm in his eyes. Just honesty. And maybe… a sliver of something else.

Regret.

But also… hope.

Some stories aren’t about rekindling love.
They’re about rebuilding respect.

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