Chapter 34 The Girl Who Waited Too Long

For several seconds after the call ended, Ananya sat completely still inside the car.

Rain continued striking softly against the windows.

The heater hummed quietly.

The warmth between them from moments earlier still lingered faintly in the air.

Yet everything had changed again.

Arjun watched her carefully from the driver’s seat, expression sharpening almost immediately at the look on her face.

“What happened?”

Ananya lowered the phone slowly into her lap.

Her pulse no longer raced from almost being kissed.

Now it raced from something colder.

Older.

Humiliation.

“Nisha said someone leaked old photos.”

Silence.

Arjun’s posture stilled completely.

“What kind of photos?”

Ananya laughed softly under her breath.

Not humor.

Something bitter.

“The embarrassing kind.”

Understanding flickered instantly across his expression.

And then—

anger.

Real anger.

The dangerous kind she was beginning to recognize lately.

Ananya looked away toward the rain-streaked city lights outside the window.

“Apparently,” she said quietly, “people finally found evidence that I used to follow you around everywhere.”

The words tasted humiliating even now.

Because it was true.

God, it was painfully true.

In her previous life, she had shaped entire weeks around the possibility of seeing him longer. Family gatherings. Social events. Business dinners. Even charity functions she hated attending.

She always found reasons to stay where he was.

Always hoping.

Always waiting.

And now those moments had been turned into entertainment.

Again.

Arjun remained silent for several seconds before asking carefully:

“Have you seen the posts yet?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The immediate firmness in his voice almost startled her.

Ananya smiled faintly without humor.

“It’s probably not good.”

“Ananya.”

The quiet warning in her name made her chest tighten.

But exhaustion had already settled too deeply now.

“I must have looked pathetic,” she whispered.

The moment the sentence left her mouth, the atmosphere inside the car changed sharply.

Arjun turned toward her fully.

“Don’t say that again.”

The intensity in his voice stunned her.

Ananya looked back at him slowly.

“You didn’t see me back then.”

“No,” he said immediately. “I didn’t.”

No denial.

No softening.

Just honesty.

And somehow that honesty hurt less now than pity would have.

Rain blurred across the windshield while silence stretched heavily between them.

Then Arjun spoke again, quieter this time.

“But loving someone openly isn’t pathetic.”

Something inside her chest twisted painfully.

Because once upon a time—

she would have defended herself with that exact belief.

Back then, she thought loyalty itself made suffering romantic somehow.

Now she knew better.

“Maybe not,” she whispered. “But losing yourself for someone is.”

Arjun’s jaw tightened visibly.

“Did you lose yourself?”

The question landed softly.

Carefully.

As though he already feared the answer.

Ananya looked down at her hands.

And for the first time—

really admitted it aloud.

“Yes.”

The word hollowed the air between them instantly.

Because this was no longer abstract emotional discussion.

This was damage.

History.

Truth.

“I stopped thinking about what I wanted outside of you,” she continued quietly. “Everything became about whether you noticed me. Whether you needed me. Whether I mattered enough.”

Emotion tightened painfully in her throat.

“I don’t think you understand how exhausting it is to spend years hoping someone will eventually love you the same way back.”

Silence.

Heavy enough to crush breathing itself.

When she finally looked up again, Arjun’s expression had changed completely.

Not guilt alone anymore.

Grief.

As though hearing the full emotional reality behind her fear hurt him far more than she expected.

“You should’ve hated me,” he said quietly.

The sentence startled her.

“What?”

“If I made you feel like that.”

Ananya stared at him silently.

Because the cruel irony was this:

she never truly hated him.

Not even after dying.

Not even after losing everything emotionally.

The person she hated most afterward was herself.

For accepting so little.

For waiting so long.

For confusing endurance with love.

“That’s the problem,” she whispered. “I loved you too much to hate you properly.”

The honesty shattered something fragile between them.

Arjun looked away sharply toward the rain outside.

For the first time since knowing him—

she saw him lose composure completely.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

His breathing changed.

His hands tightened once against the steering wheel before relaxing again.

And suddenly she realized something terrifying:

he was hurting too.

Not because she blamed him.

Because he finally understood what she survived emotionally loving him the first time.

The silence afterward stretched unbearably long.

Then Arjun asked quietly:

“Were you happy at all?”

The question nearly broke her heart.

Because yes.

That was the tragedy.

She had been.

Sometimes.

Briefly.

Enough to keep hoping.

“That’s what made it worse,” she admitted softly. “Every small kindness felt important because I was starving for more.”

Pain moved visibly across his face.

God.

She should stop talking.

But after spending years swallowing these feelings silently—

the truth would not stay buried anymore.

“I used to memorize every nice thing you ever said to me,” she continued quietly. “Like it was something precious.”

Arjun closed his eyes briefly.

And suddenly the car felt too small for all the emotion gathering between them now.

Rain battered harder against the windows.

Neither moved.

Neither knew how to undo what had just been spoken aloud.

Finally, after several endless moments, Arjun looked back at her.

His voice came low.

Rougher than usual.

“I would give anything to go back and love you properly then.”

The words shattered her completely.

Because once upon a time—

once upon a time she would have sacrificed everything just to hear him say that.

And now?

Now he meant it.

Too late in one life.

Perfect timing in another.

Tears burned unexpectedly behind her eyes.

Embarrassing.

Dangerous.

Ananya looked away quickly before they could fall.

But Arjun reached across the space between them gently and took her hand.

Not possessive.

Not demanding.

Careful.

As though he understood exactly how fragile this moment was.

She should pull away.

Instead—

her fingers tightened instinctively around his.

The realization terrified her.

Because suddenly she understood the truth clearly:

she was no longer standing at the edge of falling in love with him again.

She already had.

Outside, the rain continued endlessly against the city.

Inside the car—

the past and present finally collided hard enough that neither of them could pretend this was merely beginning anymore.