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(This post was last modified: 3 hours ago by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 142 - Mithra - Nikki one to one conversation
Nikitha pushed open the café door, the little brass bell jingling softly above her. The afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the quiet space. Only a handful of patrons sat murmuring over their cups. She spotted Mithra immediately—seated by the window in a simple cream salwar kameez, her hair tied back loosely. She looked elegant, yet worn, like someone who had carried far too much for far too long.
Nikitha’s stomach twisted as she crossed the room. This was the first time she was seeing Mithra in person. Up close, the woman carried that unmistakable poise many doctors seemed to possess—calm, composed, yet shadowed by something deeper.
“Mithra?” she asked softly as she approached.
Mithra looked up. Her eyes widened for a brief second before softening with surprise. “You actually came. I wasn’t sure you would.” Her voice was gentle, threaded with quiet fatigue.
They sat down. Nikitha ordered a coffee she knew she wouldn’t finish and wrapped her hands around the warm cup like a lifeline. An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
Mithra spoke first, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. “So… why did you want to meet me?”
Nikitha drew in a steadying breath. “I just wanted to hear what you have to tell me. But please understand—I won’t change my mind, and neither will Tharun. I’m only here to see if I can help you find some closure… or at least try to.”
She paused, then the questions that had been circling inside her spilled out.
“Why did you neglect him, Mithra? Tharun is sincere, sweet… he’s risked everything to fight for me. After years of loving you, you left him hanging. We’ve only known each other for less than a year, yet he can’t leave me for even a second. How could he possibly have walked away from you so easily? It only makes me think how deeply you must have hurt him.”
Nikitha’s voice grew quieter but no less intense. “Physical closeness is something any partner expects. But you kept him at a distance. He tried to be honest and loyal, yet you pushed him away. Whatever is happening now… it’s because of your actions. He even fears you. He’s pushing me toward marriage so quickly, and I don’t know how badly you must have wounded him.”
Mithra gave a small, almost rueful smile. “Yes, he fears me. I know that. But it’s not because I’m some villainous character in his story.” She met Nikitha’s gaze steadily. “It’s because he lacks the courage to face me. He still can’t look me in the eye. He loves me more than you think he does. I admit I didn’t reciprocate the love the way he wanted or needed. I had my reasons. The hurt, the anger, the disappointment… that’s what made him pull away from me. And then he chose you. He poured everything he believed about love onto you. But love isn’t something you choose. It’s something you fall into.”
Nikitha sat stunned. The words struck her like a mirror. It was exactly what she had done with Jay. She had loved Jay deeply, but the anger, pain, and disappointment had made her alienate herself from him. In the end, she had chosen Tharun—not fallen for him. It had been a convenient, safe decision.
The parallels were uncanny.
Intrigued and unsettled, Nikitha leaned forward. “What was the reason that pushed Tharun away from you?”
Mithra let out a soft, bitter laugh and looked out the window for a moment before turning back.
“I never thought I’d be sitting here explaining my life to the woman Tharun wants to marry. But… here we are.”
Nikitha nodded, her voice quiet. “After everything that’s happened, I needed to hear it from you.”
Mithra gave a small, sad smile and began.
“I don’t know if Tharun ever told you… My first love was a sweet, innocent puppy-love kind of thing. I was eighteen. He was a distant relative—a family friend named Arjun. He was always around during festivals, helping my mother in the kitchen, teasing me about my terrible handwriting. We were so young and shy about it all.”
Her voice softened. “On my birthday that year, we had a small party at our house. Cake, laughter, fairy lights… Everything felt perfect. Then a fire broke out in the hall—an electrical short circuit, they said later. Arjun pushed me out of the way and ran back for my mother.” Mithra’s voice cracked. She stared down at her hands. “Neither of them made it.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I survived. But that night burned something inside me. I lost the two people who meant the world to me on the same day—the woman who brought me into this world and the boy who taught me what love felt like. We were so innocent back then… we used to think even kissing might make me pregnant, so we barely touched.” She let out a watery laugh. “But he was so deeply embedded in my heart. I still remember the warmth of his hand pushing me to safety… After that, any kind of touch, any closeness—it brought back the smoke, the flames, his screams. I just… shut down.”
Mithra took a shaky breath and continued.
“Then I met Tharun at tuition classes. I was completely lost in those days—still grieving, drowning in family debts after my mother’s death. My aunt was strict, pushing me to become a doctor so I could support my younger siblings. I had no hope left. But Tharun… his smile could light up the entire classroom. He was charming, always cracking silly jokes to make me laugh, quietly remembering that I liked filter coffee without sugar, helping me with difficult topics, checking whether I had eaten. Slowly, he gave me hope again. His kindness won me over completely.”
Tears slipped down Mithra’s cheeks. She looked like a complete mess—red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips—just the way Nikitha had once felt when her world with Jay had shattered.
“I fell deeply in love with him,” Mithra whispered. “But every time he tried to get closer—holding my hand, wanting to kiss me—I would freeze. The memories would rush back. I felt so guilty. I kept telling him, ‘Wait for me, Tharun. Just until I clear these loans and secure my siblings’ future. Once I’m free from this burden, I’ll give you everything.’ I prayed for that day every single night.”
She wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept falling.
“But I agree there is another reason too, it's my fault… every time he touches me, the memories of my first love come flooding back. It’s so hard to start a new life when your old self is still trapped in the past, still carrying someone else’s love in your heart.”
Nikitha felt a strange ache in her chest. The words hit too close. Jay had been ditched by his ex shortly before marrying her. She now understood, perhaps for the first time, how difficult it must have been for him to open his heart again while still carrying that pain.
Mithra continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “By the time I finally paid off the debts and started feeling stronger… he had already moved on.” She looked directly at Nikitha. “With you."
Mithra’s gaze drifted to the window for a moment, as if gathering strength from the soft afternoon light. When she looked back at Nikitha, her eyes were clear but heavy with years of unshed grief.
“Imagine placing yourself in my shoes, Nikitha. You love someone with all your heart, and they leave this world. Then life gives you a new hope—someone who sees you, who makes you want to try again. But you can’t fully meet their needs because the past still haunts you. I was grateful. I was hopeful that one day I would finally heal enough to start fresh with him… to dedicate my life to him completely.”
She swallowed hard. “But the debts kept piling up. If I got distracted, who would take care of them? I didn’t want Tharun to shoulder that burden for me. So I kept pushing him away, telling myself it was only temporary. I took every possible step to prove my worth to his family. His mother had figured out our relationship long ago—they didn’t approve at first. I waited for years. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to split his family apart just for me. And when I finally earned their approval… you were already standing in front of him.”
Mithra’s voice remained steady, though pain flickered across her face. “Unlike Tharun, I cannot move on from a second heartbreak. First Arjun, now him. Life won’t get simpler from here. I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to beg. I wish you and Tharun good luck. But I’m very sure—he still loves me. When his anger fades, he will suffer. I only hope you can give him the love he truly deserves.”
She paused, then added softly, almost as an afterthought, “But to keep it simple… you destroyed my beautiful dreams, Nikitha. Unknowingly.”
Nikitha sat frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was still determined to marry Tharun. Some things, she told herself, could not be undone. She had chosen this path—this fresh start. Yet hearing Mithra’s raw pain cracked something deep inside her.
Her mind kept drawing painful parallels.
Like Mithra, Jay had carried the wounds of an ex. It made it so hard for him to fully accept and appreciate the love Nikitha offered.
Like Mithra, Jay had been ditched twice—first by the woman he loved, then, in a way, by Nikitha herself when she walked away.
And the parallels with her own life felt even more haunting.
Both she and Mithra had lost their mothers young. Both had been raised under the strict, debt-laden shadows of an aunt or stepmother, forced to grow up too fast, carrying responsibilities far heavier than their years. Both had desperately searched for peace and love in a world that kept demanding more.
Most importantly, Nikitha now realized: just as Mithra still carried Tharun in her heart, she herself still carried Jay. The thought refused to leave her.
What does Tharun really need?
She had loved only Jay. The disappointment and anger had made her detach from him and choose Tharun instead. But the love hadn’t vanished—it had simply been buried under hurt. That was why seeing Sharmi and Jay together had triggered such fierce anger. Not jealousy alone, but a lingering care. She still wanted Jay to have a stable future.
If I’m still carrying Jay in my heart… then maybe Tharun is doing the same with her.
The realization hit like a blow. Nikitha’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold them back, but they spilled over anyway, tracing warm paths down her cheeks.
Mithra reached out instinctively, then pulled her hand back, respecting the invisible wall between them. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know the full truth. Tharun still loves me, Nikitha. Deep down, he does. He’s trying very hard to convince himself otherwise. That fear you see in him whenever my name comes up? That’s why.”
Nikitha wiped her face with trembling fingers, her voice breaking. “I… I still want to marry him. I believe I can love him one day. But this… this is so much harder than I thought. It would have been better if we had realized all of this before things went this far.”
Mithra looked at her with quiet, weary understanding. Two women sitting across from each other, both carrying broken pieces of the same shattered story.
“I don’t hate you,” Mithra said softly. “Some wounds never fully heal. They just get covered by new scars. I hope you both find peace… whatever that ends up looking like.”
Nikitha left the café feeling completely shaken.
Once inside her car, she didn’t start the engine right away. She turned and looked back at the café through the glass window. Mithra was still sitting there, a solitary figure framed by the warm lights. Guilt washed over Nikitha like a tide.
“Sorry…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…”
She repeated the words countless times, tears streaming down her face, as if saying them enough might somehow undo the pain she had unknowingly caused. After several long minutes, she wiped her eyes, started the car, and drove away—leaving the café and the weight of their conversation behind her.
Nikitha left feeling completely shaken. The world outside felt unsteady beneath her feet. She was still determined to build a life with Tharun, but now everything felt heavier, more complicated—like she was walking into a future already haunted by the past.
Nikitha pushed open the café door, the little brass bell jingling softly above her. The afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the quiet space. Only a handful of patrons sat murmuring over their cups. She spotted Mithra immediately—seated by the window in a simple cream salwar kameez, her hair tied back loosely. She looked elegant, yet worn, like someone who had carried far too much for far too long.
Nikitha’s stomach twisted as she crossed the room. This was the first time she was seeing Mithra in person. Up close, the woman carried that unmistakable poise many doctors seemed to possess—calm, composed, yet shadowed by something deeper.
“Mithra?” she asked softly as she approached.
Mithra looked up. Her eyes widened for a brief second before softening with surprise. “You actually came. I wasn’t sure you would.” Her voice was gentle, threaded with quiet fatigue.
They sat down. Nikitha ordered a coffee she knew she wouldn’t finish and wrapped her hands around the warm cup like a lifeline. An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
Mithra spoke first, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. “So… why did you want to meet me?”
Nikitha drew in a steadying breath. “I just wanted to hear what you have to tell me. But please understand—I won’t change my mind, and neither will Tharun. I’m only here to see if I can help you find some closure… or at least try to.”
She paused, then the questions that had been circling inside her spilled out.
“Why did you neglect him, Mithra? Tharun is sincere, sweet… he’s risked everything to fight for me. After years of loving you, you left him hanging. We’ve only known each other for less than a year, yet he can’t leave me for even a second. How could he possibly have walked away from you so easily? It only makes me think how deeply you must have hurt him.”
Nikitha’s voice grew quieter but no less intense. “Physical closeness is something any partner expects. But you kept him at a distance. He tried to be honest and loyal, yet you pushed him away. Whatever is happening now… it’s because of your actions. He even fears you. He’s pushing me toward marriage so quickly, and I don’t know how badly you must have wounded him.”
Mithra gave a small, almost rueful smile. “Yes, he fears me. I know that. But it’s not because I’m some villainous character in his story.” She met Nikitha’s gaze steadily. “It’s because he lacks the courage to face me. He still can’t look me in the eye. He loves me more than you think he does. I admit I didn’t reciprocate the love the way he wanted or needed. I had my reasons. The hurt, the anger, the disappointment… that’s what made him pull away from me. And then he chose you. He poured everything he believed about love onto you. But love isn’t something you choose. It’s something you fall into.”
Nikitha sat stunned. The words struck her like a mirror. It was exactly what she had done with Jay. She had loved Jay deeply, but the anger, pain, and disappointment had made her alienate herself from him. In the end, she had chosen Tharun—not fallen for him. It had been a convenient, safe decision.
The parallels were uncanny.
Intrigued and unsettled, Nikitha leaned forward. “What was the reason that pushed Tharun away from you?”
Mithra let out a soft, bitter laugh and looked out the window for a moment before turning back.
“I never thought I’d be sitting here explaining my life to the woman Tharun wants to marry. But… here we are.”
Nikitha nodded, her voice quiet. “After everything that’s happened, I needed to hear it from you.”
Mithra gave a small, sad smile and began.
“I don’t know if Tharun ever told you… My first love was a sweet, innocent puppy-love kind of thing. I was eighteen. He was a distant relative—a family friend named Arjun. He was always around during festivals, helping my mother in the kitchen, teasing me about my terrible handwriting. We were so young and shy about it all.”
Her voice softened. “On my birthday that year, we had a small party at our house. Cake, laughter, fairy lights… Everything felt perfect. Then a fire broke out in the hall—an electrical short circuit, they said later. Arjun pushed me out of the way and ran back for my mother.” Mithra’s voice cracked. She stared down at her hands. “Neither of them made it.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I survived. But that night burned something inside me. I lost the two people who meant the world to me on the same day—the woman who brought me into this world and the boy who taught me what love felt like. We were so innocent back then… we used to think even kissing might make me pregnant, so we barely touched.” She let out a watery laugh. “But he was so deeply embedded in my heart. I still remember the warmth of his hand pushing me to safety… After that, any kind of touch, any closeness—it brought back the smoke, the flames, his screams. I just… shut down.”
Mithra took a shaky breath and continued.
“Then I met Tharun at tuition classes. I was completely lost in those days—still grieving, drowning in family debts after my mother’s death. My aunt was strict, pushing me to become a doctor so I could support my younger siblings. I had no hope left. But Tharun… his smile could light up the entire classroom. He was charming, always cracking silly jokes to make me laugh, quietly remembering that I liked filter coffee without sugar, helping me with difficult topics, checking whether I had eaten. Slowly, he gave me hope again. His kindness won me over completely.”
Tears slipped down Mithra’s cheeks. She looked like a complete mess—red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips—just the way Nikitha had once felt when her world with Jay had shattered.
“I fell deeply in love with him,” Mithra whispered. “But every time he tried to get closer—holding my hand, wanting to kiss me—I would freeze. The memories would rush back. I felt so guilty. I kept telling him, ‘Wait for me, Tharun. Just until I clear these loans and secure my siblings’ future. Once I’m free from this burden, I’ll give you everything.’ I prayed for that day every single night.”
She wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept falling.
“But I agree there is another reason too, it's my fault… every time he touches me, the memories of my first love come flooding back. It’s so hard to start a new life when your old self is still trapped in the past, still carrying someone else’s love in your heart.”
Nikitha felt a strange ache in her chest. The words hit too close. Jay had been ditched by his ex shortly before marrying her. She now understood, perhaps for the first time, how difficult it must have been for him to open his heart again while still carrying that pain.
Mithra continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “By the time I finally paid off the debts and started feeling stronger… he had already moved on.” She looked directly at Nikitha. “With you."
Mithra’s gaze drifted to the window for a moment, as if gathering strength from the soft afternoon light. When she looked back at Nikitha, her eyes were clear but heavy with years of unshed grief.
“Imagine placing yourself in my shoes, Nikitha. You love someone with all your heart, and they leave this world. Then life gives you a new hope—someone who sees you, who makes you want to try again. But you can’t fully meet their needs because the past still haunts you. I was grateful. I was hopeful that one day I would finally heal enough to start fresh with him… to dedicate my life to him completely.”
She swallowed hard. “But the debts kept piling up. If I got distracted, who would take care of them? I didn’t want Tharun to shoulder that burden for me. So I kept pushing him away, telling myself it was only temporary. I took every possible step to prove my worth to his family. His mother had figured out our relationship long ago—they didn’t approve at first. I waited for years. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to split his family apart just for me. And when I finally earned their approval… you were already standing in front of him.”
Mithra’s voice remained steady, though pain flickered across her face. “Unlike Tharun, I cannot move on from a second heartbreak. First Arjun, now him. Life won’t get simpler from here. I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to beg. I wish you and Tharun good luck. But I’m very sure—he still loves me. When his anger fades, he will suffer. I only hope you can give him the love he truly deserves.”
She paused, then added softly, almost as an afterthought, “But to keep it simple… you destroyed my beautiful dreams, Nikitha. Unknowingly.”
Nikitha sat frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was still determined to marry Tharun. Some things, she told herself, could not be undone. She had chosen this path—this fresh start. Yet hearing Mithra’s raw pain cracked something deep inside her.
Her mind kept drawing painful parallels.
Like Mithra, Jay had carried the wounds of an ex. It made it so hard for him to fully accept and appreciate the love Nikitha offered.
Like Mithra, Jay had been ditched twice—first by the woman he loved, then, in a way, by Nikitha herself when she walked away.
And the parallels with her own life felt even more haunting.
Both she and Mithra had lost their mothers young. Both had been raised under the strict, debt-laden shadows of an aunt or stepmother, forced to grow up too fast, carrying responsibilities far heavier than their years. Both had desperately searched for peace and love in a world that kept demanding more.
Most importantly, Nikitha now realized: just as Mithra still carried Tharun in her heart, she herself still carried Jay. The thought refused to leave her.
What does Tharun really need?
She had loved only Jay. The disappointment and anger had made her detach from him and choose Tharun instead. But the love hadn’t vanished—it had simply been buried under hurt. That was why seeing Sharmi and Jay together had triggered such fierce anger. Not jealousy alone, but a lingering care. She still wanted Jay to have a stable future.
If I’m still carrying Jay in my heart… then maybe Tharun is doing the same with her.
The realization hit like a blow. Nikitha’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold them back, but they spilled over anyway, tracing warm paths down her cheeks.
Mithra reached out instinctively, then pulled her hand back, respecting the invisible wall between them. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know the full truth. Tharun still loves me, Nikitha. Deep down, he does. He’s trying very hard to convince himself otherwise. That fear you see in him whenever my name comes up? That’s why.”
Nikitha wiped her face with trembling fingers, her voice breaking. “I… I still want to marry him. I believe I can love him one day. But this… this is so much harder than I thought. It would have been better if we had realized all of this before things went this far.”
Mithra looked at her with quiet, weary understanding. Two women sitting across from each other, both carrying broken pieces of the same shattered story.
“I don’t hate you,” Mithra said softly. “Some wounds never fully heal. They just get covered by new scars. I hope you both find peace… whatever that ends up looking like.”
Nikitha left the café feeling completely shaken.
Once inside her car, she didn’t start the engine right away. She turned and looked back at the café through the glass window. Mithra was still sitting there, a solitary figure framed by the warm lights. Guilt washed over Nikitha like a tide.
“Sorry…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…”
She repeated the words countless times, tears streaming down her face, as if saying them enough might somehow undo the pain she had unknowingly caused. After several long minutes, she wiped her eyes, started the car, and drove away—leaving the café and the weight of their conversation behind her.
Nikitha left feeling completely shaken. The world outside felt unsteady beneath her feet. She was still determined to build a life with Tharun, but now everything felt heavier, more complicated—like she was walking into a future already haunted by the past.
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