Pov:Max
Morning crept in quietly, like it knew I hadn't slept. The message still sat on my phone, unread again and again, even though I'd read it a hundred times in my head. I didn't tell Kitty. I didn't need to. Some silences feel safer than words.
The knock on the door was soft. Familiar.
"Max?" a voice called. Soft. Sweet. My mom.
She stood at the doorway in her saree, a touch of kajal in her eyes, her office ID swaying around her neck. It took me a second to realize it was Friday—her early shift day.
"Are you okay, kanna?" she asked, stepping inside.
I nodded, but that woman—she's known me since the moment I first cried in this world. One look, and she could tell something was off.
"You didn't text me last night," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "That's not like you."
I swallowed. "Just tired… lot of classes."
She sat on the edge of my bed, her hand resting gently on mine. No pressure. No questions.
Just presence.
And somehow, that made it worse. Because when someone sits beside you with that much love, the walls you build around your hurt start to crumble quietly.
"He messaged," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
She didn't ask who. She didn't have to.
Instead, she sighed. A soft, knowing sound. Like she remembered all the nights she saw me staring at my phone back then. Waiting. Hoping. Breaking.
"I didn't reply much," I added. "Just… called him senior."
"That's enough," she said, smiling gently. "You don't owe him anything more than that."
I nodded, my throat tight. "But why does it still feel like something's left?"
"Because," she said, squeezing my hand, "you gave pieces of your heart to someone who didn't know how to hold them. That kind of ache doesn't leave quickly."
She stayed for five more minutes, fixing my hair, reminding me to eat, and leaving behind a small steel box of idlis and chutney like she always did. And then she left for work, like the world was normal again.
But inside me…
Everything still wasn't.
I was halfway through the idlis my mom left when Kitty stretched and groaned, still half-asleep. The quiet buzz of my phone brought my heart back to full alert.
Mike.
"I'm sorry for the way things ended, Max. Can we talk? Just once?"
Ended?
How could something end… when it never even began?
He never knew I loved him.
Not once did I say it.
Not in words.
Not in actions loud enough for him to hear.
All he ever knew… was that I was a junior who admired him from afar. Who shared a few laughs, maybe a few lingering looks. That's it.
But to me? He was everything.
I stared at the message. My throat felt tight.
Kitty noticed my silence and peeked over. "Another message?"
I nodded slowly, then said the truth I hadn't even admitted to myself till now.
"He never loved me, Kitty. I never told him I did."
She blinked, sitting up properly now. "Oh, Max…"
"I don't even know what he's sorry for."
And that was the hardest part.
Because when love is one-sided, the apology hurts more than the silence .
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