🖤 The Monster Inside Me 🖤 - Chapter 5 (Second Last) [“He thought he was a monster—until she looked into his darkness and chose to stay.”]
Chapter 5: The Monster’s Voice
Silence.
That’s what Aditi chose after walking out of Aditya’s penthouse.
Not the dramatic kind.
The real kind — the kind that hurts more than any scream could. No calls. No messages. No replies. Nothing.
And Aditya… he let her go.
Not because he didn’t want her.
But because he wasn’t sure he deserved her.
It had been four days.
Four long, echoing, manuscript-free days.
Aditya sat in his study, the room heavy with memories and ghosts that had grown louder since Aditi left. Her absence was not quiet — it thundered in every corner she used to sit, in every coffee cup that remained untouched.
So he did what he had always done with pain.
He wrote.
But this time, it wasn’t a book.
It was a letter.
A manuscript with no chapters, no structure, no edits.
Just a title:
“The Girl Who Dared to Touch the Monster”
📓 Excerpts from the letter:
“I never told you, Aditi, but your voice made the screaming inside me quieter.”
“You didn’t ask me to heal. You just sat there, listened, and never ran. Even when you should have.”
“Rhea knew my darkness and fed it. You… looked into it and called me human anyway.”
“You asked once what I see in the mirror. I still see the monster. But when you were beside me… I think he looked tired. I think… he wanted to rest.”
“You once said this isn’t a love story. But if it isn’t, then why does your name hurt like one?”
“This isn’t my book, Aditi. It’s yours. And I hope someday, you’ll forgive me enough to read it.”
Aditya bound the pages in a black leather folder. No title on the cover. No dedication.
Just one Post-it note:
“For the only editor who ever edited me.”
He had it delivered to her apartment the same night.
And then… he waited.
At Aditi’s apartment:
She stared at the envelope in her hand like it was ticking.
Part of her wanted to throw it into the trash, like a clean break.
But curiosity was stronger than anger.
She read.
And read.
And cried.
Not loudly, not brokenly. But silently — like her heart had just been understood for the first time.
His words weren’t perfect.
But they were honest.
And that had always been enough.
The next morning, she knocked on his door.
He opened it like he’d been standing there all night.
She didn’t speak at first.
Neither did he.
Then, quietly, she handed him a marked-up copy of the letter — red pen notes, edits, scribbles.
“Your transitions need work,” she said, smirking through her tears. “But the heart’s in the right place.”
He stepped forward, cautious.
“Is this… a second chance?”
She nodded slowly. “Only if we rewrite the ending. Together.”
He took her hand.
“Deal.”
Final Scene of the Chapter:
They sit side by side at the typewriter, beginning a new page. No monsters. No metaphors. Just two broken people learning how to be whole again.
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