POV: Ashwin

Some truths don’t need to be shouted.

They sit heavy on your chest. Like a rock that won’t move no matter how much you breathe around it.

I drove without music. Without distraction. Just the sound of busy morning’s humming outside my windows and the memory of Aaravi’s face as I told her I loved someone else.

Maya.

Her name alone was enough to slow my pulse.

The first time I saw her, she was sitting cross-legged in the open art block corridor of our college. Her dupatta was slipping from one shoulder, and her fingers were drenched in blue and yellow acrylic. She was trying to balance a huge canvas in one hand and a palette in the other.

I turned the corner in a rush and collided into her.

Paint everywhere. Her gasp. My awkward stammer. Her angry eyes.

It was chaos. Color. Clumsiness.

And strangely — peace.

She wasn't like the others. She didn’t know my last name. Didn’t care about it. She scolded me like I was some reckless stranger.

"You ruined three hours of work, genius," she’d hissed, wiping her palms.

And I... fell. For her.

In a world where people treated me like a rich boy with a wallet, she treated me like a human who made a mistake.

I ragged her in college. She didn't know me as her senior. Yes. Teased her in the studio. Left random post-it notes in her sketchbook. Gave her the nickname "Paint Bucket."

And then one day, I asked her out.

She paused. Looked up at me with paint-streaked cheeks and just said, "Don’t lie."

"I’m not."

She didn’t smile. Just nodded once.

That was the beginning.

Now, she was my quiet. My softness. My answer.

---

The apartment I bought for her was small but filled with light. Maya didn’t want luxury. She wanted space. Silence. Air to paint. Her mother stayed in the hospital room, mostly bedridden now — a silent presence I helped from a distance.

I stepped inside with my spare key.

The scent of acrylic and lavender oil filled the space.

Maya was at her easel, brush in hand, hair tied in a bun with a pencil stuck through it. A smudge of ochre on her cheek.

She didn’t hear me enter.

I stood there for a second.

Watching her.

Breathing her in.

Then I moved forward and wrapped my arms around her from behind.

She stiffened for a second, then relaxed.

“Ashwin?” she asked softly, still facing the canvas.

I buried my face in her neck.

“I messed up.”

She placed her brush down, turned in my arms.

“What happened?”

“I shouted at Aaravi.”

She frowned. “Did she provoke you again?”

“She… tried something. And I couldn’t take it. I slapped the sofa. She cried. Then got drunk. Called me. I went there. Some guy touched her and I punched him.”

She stared.

“Seriously?”

“I carried her out. Took her home. Stayed the night.”

Maya stepped away. Not angry. Just watching me.

“Do you love her?”

“No,” I answered instantly. “She’s just in obsession with me. You’re peace.”

She tilted her head. “And why does peace always come second?”

I exhaled.

“She’s part of my world, Maya. I didn’t choose her. But she’s everywhere. And today I told her the truth. About you. About us.”

She was quiet. Then she walked to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding you. You look like you’ve fought a war right?”

“I have.” I chuckled slowly.

She pulled out some vegetables. Started chopping silently. I watched her every movement.

“How’s your mom?” I asked.

“Sleeping. The medicine worked today.”

“Did you get the money I sent?”

She nodded, half-smiling. “You spoil her more than me.”

“She gave birth to my everything.”

Maya paused. Turned. Met my eyes.

That one look made everything in me settle.

She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t flashy. But Maya loved deeply, quietly, without ego. And that terrified me because I never wanted to lose her to the noise that followed me.

Breakfast was simple. Dosa and dal with too much ghee.

I sat on the floor. Ate like I hadn’t in days.

She sipped her water and finally said, “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t let guilt tie you to people who only want to possess you. You’re not anyone’s prize okay!.”

I reached over and held her hand.

“I already promised myself something stronger. That I’d never give up the one person who made

me feel like a man — not a machine.”

She smiled then.

And I finally exhaled the storm I’d been holding in my lungs since I left Aaravi’s door.