Chapter 28 – A Lie Between Them
Not all wounds are caused by betrayal—
Some are born from silence.
From good intentions cloaked in quiet lies.
—
Mehar returned from Goa glowing with success.
Her name was featured in articles.
Her art was being discussed online.
And her heart was full—of love, gratitude, dreams.
But something about Aarav felt... different.
He smiled, held her, celebrated her—but in his eyes, there was a flicker she couldn't place.
—
One evening, she found a medical receipt on his desk.
A test report. From a neurologist.
And her heart skipped a beat.
When she asked him, he brushed it off.
"It's nothing serious. Just routine."
But the words were too casual, too rehearsed.
And suddenly, Mehar knew.
He was hiding something.
—
The lie was small—he told himself.
Aarav hadn't told Mehar because he didn't want to scare her.
Because he didn't know what the test results meant yet.
Because she was just back from living her dream—how could he weigh her down?
But lies—no matter how small—build distance.
—
Over the next week, Mehar grew quiet.
She painted less. Smiled less.
And Aarav noticed.
Finally, on a stormy evening, she confronted him.
"You promised me honesty," she said, her voice trembling. "Not protection. Not silence. Honesty."
He sat on the floor, running his hands through his hair.
"I had migraines," he admitted. "Bad ones. They were getting worse. I went to get checked. The doctor said it could be stress, or something neurological. I didn't want to worry you."
Tears filled her eyes. "I am supposed to worry. That's what people who love each other do."
He looked up. "It's just… I've seen what it did to my mom when my dad got sick. She stopped living for herself. I didn't want that for you."
Mehar knelt beside him, cupping his face.
"I'm not your mom. And you're not your dad. This is our story. And in our story, we don't run from the hard parts. We walk through them together."
—
They sat in silence for a while, the rain tapping the windows, hearts slowly syncing again.
And in that quiet, something stronger bloomed between them.
Not just love.
But trust. The kind built not by perfection—but by imperfection faced together.
—
Because sometimes, the truth hurts.
But lies—
Even the smallest ones—
Hurt more.
—