1 hour ago
(This post was last modified: 1 hour ago by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 144 - The Discovery
The following week passed in a haze of mundane routine. Conversations felt scripted, smiles forced. Even their intimacy had become mechanical and hollow. Every time Tharun touched her, Nikitha could sense him holding back — hiding his hurt, swallowing his pain just to make her feel wanted. He was trying so hard to prove he had moved on, but the effort itself revealed the truth. He was performing love for her happiness, and that realisation slowly broke something inside Nikitha.
Her guilt refused to fade.
Driven by restlessness and a heavy conscience, she decided to visit Mithra again. This time, she told herself, she wouldn’t just listen — she would encourage Mithra to rebuild her life, to find the confidence to move forward and accept love from someone new. She owed her that much.
Mithra worked at a busy city hospital. When Nikitha reached the emergency wing and asked for her, telling she was a friend of her. the nurse looked her over and asked her to wait inside Dr. Mithra’s cabin since she was still attending to a critical case.
Nikitha stepped into the quiet, neatly organised room. Medical books lined the shelves. The desk was tidy, except for the open laptop. Its screen had gone into idle mode but was still displaying a beautiful wallpaper — a photo of Mithra and Tharun together.
Tharun looked younger in the picture, cleanly shaven, smiling with pure joy as he wrapped his arms around Mithra from behind. They looked genuinely happy.
Nikitha’s heart clenched. She glanced at the door, then back at the laptop. Curiosity and guilt pushed her forward. She quickly adjusted the settings and found the source folder of the wallpaper. What she saw made her breath catch.
Hundreds of photos.
Countless memories.
Tharun and Mithra laughing at a café.
Them studying together late at night.
Mithra wearing a gift Tharun had clearly bought her.
Screenshots of old messages.
Even scanned copies of handwritten notes.
Mithra had been quietly treasuring every single moment.
Nikitha felt sick. I have become the villain in someone else’s love story.
But one question kept nagging at her: Why didn’t Mithra fight for him? Why didn’t she fight more ferociously? Something felt missing.
Glancing nervously at the door, Nikitha locked it from inside. She had only ten minutes, maybe less. She searched quickly — drawers, shelves, medical files — but found nothing unusual except medicines and books. Then her eyes fell on a small, worn diary tucked inside Mithra’s laptop bag.
Her hands trembled as she opened it, but as she flipped further, the entries grew raw and deeply personal that is when she realised its a personal diary of her noting important events..
“Day 127 after Tharun left.
I still can’t delete his number. I deleted it ten times and saved it again. I know I should let go, but my heart refuses to listen. Every time I treat a patient who looks like him, my hands shake.”
One of the final entries, written only a few days ago, shattered Nikitha completely:
“I saw them together near the café last week. Tharun looked at her the way he once looked at me. It hurt more than I expected. But I won’t fight. I’ve already lost twice. If I fight and win, I’ll always wonder if he chose me out of guilt. Love shouldn’t be a battle. If he is happy with her, then I will learn to live with this emptiness. Maybe this is my punishment for not being able to love him fully when he needed me.”
Nikitha’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the last few pages of the diary. She had intended to close it and leave, but a strange impulse made her flip back to the earlier entries. She told herself she only wanted to see some sweet memories — something light to balance the pain she had already witnessed.
Instead, what she found shattered her completely.
Page after page revealed not just love, but a level of selfless devotion Nikitha had never imagined. Over the years, Mithra had protected Tharun in ways no one — not even Tharun — fully knew. The depth of her sacrifices slowly overwhelmed Nikitha as she read.
Almost an hour passed. She remained locked in the cabin, lost in the diary, tears falling silently onto her lap.
The first incident hit her hardest.
Mithra had written in a shaky handwriting:
“That night still haunts me more than the fire. We were coming back from tuition on the scooter. It was late. A drunk driver hit us. Tharun was thrown off badly — head injury, bleeding everywhere. For a moment, I was back in that burning hall… the smoke, Arjun’s screams. But I couldn’t lose him too. I dragged him to the side of the road even though my arm was fractured. I used my dupatta to stop the bleeding and kept talking to him so he wouldn’t lose consciousness. When the ambulance came, I refused to let them treat me first. I told the doctors, ‘Save him. Please save him first.’ I was terrified the fire was repeating… but I couldn’t lose him too.”
Nikitha’s breath caught. Mithra had risked her life and faced her deepest trauma again — all for Tharun. Later entries revealed that she had downplayed her own injuries to everyone, including Tharun. He only learned much later that Mithra had saved his life that night. She had hidden the full extent of her trauma so he wouldn’t feel guilty.
The second incident broke Nikitha’s heart in a different way.
“Tharun’s mother was strongly against us. She threatened to stop funding his higher studies if we continued. I secretly met Aunty alone. I took all the blame. I told her I was not good enough for him and promised to stay away so he could complete his education peacefully. I lied with a smile while my heart was breaking. That is why I detached myself for so long. But I couldn’t stay completely away… I maintained secret contact with him so he wouldn’t be hurt. I hide these details so he and his mom won’t fight. I don’t have a mother anymore. At least he does. I don’t want to break that bond.”
Nikitha realised with a painful clarity: Tharun still didn’t know the full truth. He thought Mithra had simply grown distant. In reality, she had sacrificed their relationship multiple times to protect his future and his family ties.
The third incident, though it started with a lie, showed the depth of Mithra’s commitment.
Tharun had been hospitalised with typhoid. His mother, still hesitant about their relationship, lied to Mithra and said it was a sudden serious kidney infection. She told Mithra the family was struggling financially and indirectly asked her to leave Tharun alone.
Mithra’s response was written with quiet determination:
“Aunty said his kidneys were failing and they couldn’t afford treatment. I was already donating blood regularly. I offered to donate one of my kidneys if needed. I even got myself tested secretly as a potential donor without telling Tharun. When Aunty realised what I was willing to do, her attitude softened. She started seeing me differently after that. I don’t know if Tharun will ever know how close I came to giving him a part of my body.”
There were many more small incidents scattered throughout the diary — Mithra skipping meals to save money for saving for debt, running to hospital when he was in typhoid, sleeping on Chairs. A lot.
Nikitha closed the diary, her face wet with tears. The weight of what she had discovered pressed heavily on her chest.
She whispered to herself, voice breaking, “You don’t deserve Tharun… He may choose you. You may choose him. But it means nothing before this. Nothing.”
For the first time, she truly believed Tharun had made the wrong decision by walking away from Mithra. This was not ordinary love. This was the kind of love that sacrificed everything without asking for anything in return.
Nikitha’s own feelings for Jay, her guilt, and now this undeniable truth collided inside her. She no longer wanted to share Tharun.
She wanted to sacrifice her place so Mithra could have him back.
Quietly, she wiped her tears, placed the diary exactly where she had found it, and slipped out of the cabin before Mithra could return from the emergency ward. Her heart was heavy, but her resolve had never been clearer.
It was time to let go.
The following week passed in a haze of mundane routine. Conversations felt scripted, smiles forced. Even their intimacy had become mechanical and hollow. Every time Tharun touched her, Nikitha could sense him holding back — hiding his hurt, swallowing his pain just to make her feel wanted. He was trying so hard to prove he had moved on, but the effort itself revealed the truth. He was performing love for her happiness, and that realisation slowly broke something inside Nikitha.
Her guilt refused to fade.
Driven by restlessness and a heavy conscience, she decided to visit Mithra again. This time, she told herself, she wouldn’t just listen — she would encourage Mithra to rebuild her life, to find the confidence to move forward and accept love from someone new. She owed her that much.
Mithra worked at a busy city hospital. When Nikitha reached the emergency wing and asked for her, telling she was a friend of her. the nurse looked her over and asked her to wait inside Dr. Mithra’s cabin since she was still attending to a critical case.
Nikitha stepped into the quiet, neatly organised room. Medical books lined the shelves. The desk was tidy, except for the open laptop. Its screen had gone into idle mode but was still displaying a beautiful wallpaper — a photo of Mithra and Tharun together.
Tharun looked younger in the picture, cleanly shaven, smiling with pure joy as he wrapped his arms around Mithra from behind. They looked genuinely happy.
Nikitha’s heart clenched. She glanced at the door, then back at the laptop. Curiosity and guilt pushed her forward. She quickly adjusted the settings and found the source folder of the wallpaper. What she saw made her breath catch.
Hundreds of photos.
Countless memories.
Tharun and Mithra laughing at a café.
Them studying together late at night.
Mithra wearing a gift Tharun had clearly bought her.
Screenshots of old messages.
Even scanned copies of handwritten notes.
Mithra had been quietly treasuring every single moment.
Nikitha felt sick. I have become the villain in someone else’s love story.
But one question kept nagging at her: Why didn’t Mithra fight for him? Why didn’t she fight more ferociously? Something felt missing.
Glancing nervously at the door, Nikitha locked it from inside. She had only ten minutes, maybe less. She searched quickly — drawers, shelves, medical files — but found nothing unusual except medicines and books. Then her eyes fell on a small, worn diary tucked inside Mithra’s laptop bag.
Her hands trembled as she opened it, but as she flipped further, the entries grew raw and deeply personal that is when she realised its a personal diary of her noting important events..
“Day 127 after Tharun left.
I still can’t delete his number. I deleted it ten times and saved it again. I know I should let go, but my heart refuses to listen. Every time I treat a patient who looks like him, my hands shake.”
One of the final entries, written only a few days ago, shattered Nikitha completely:
“I saw them together near the café last week. Tharun looked at her the way he once looked at me. It hurt more than I expected. But I won’t fight. I’ve already lost twice. If I fight and win, I’ll always wonder if he chose me out of guilt. Love shouldn’t be a battle. If he is happy with her, then I will learn to live with this emptiness. Maybe this is my punishment for not being able to love him fully when he needed me.”
Nikitha’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the last few pages of the diary. She had intended to close it and leave, but a strange impulse made her flip back to the earlier entries. She told herself she only wanted to see some sweet memories — something light to balance the pain she had already witnessed.
Instead, what she found shattered her completely.
Page after page revealed not just love, but a level of selfless devotion Nikitha had never imagined. Over the years, Mithra had protected Tharun in ways no one — not even Tharun — fully knew. The depth of her sacrifices slowly overwhelmed Nikitha as she read.
Almost an hour passed. She remained locked in the cabin, lost in the diary, tears falling silently onto her lap.
The first incident hit her hardest.
Mithra had written in a shaky handwriting:
“That night still haunts me more than the fire. We were coming back from tuition on the scooter. It was late. A drunk driver hit us. Tharun was thrown off badly — head injury, bleeding everywhere. For a moment, I was back in that burning hall… the smoke, Arjun’s screams. But I couldn’t lose him too. I dragged him to the side of the road even though my arm was fractured. I used my dupatta to stop the bleeding and kept talking to him so he wouldn’t lose consciousness. When the ambulance came, I refused to let them treat me first. I told the doctors, ‘Save him. Please save him first.’ I was terrified the fire was repeating… but I couldn’t lose him too.”
Nikitha’s breath caught. Mithra had risked her life and faced her deepest trauma again — all for Tharun. Later entries revealed that she had downplayed her own injuries to everyone, including Tharun. He only learned much later that Mithra had saved his life that night. She had hidden the full extent of her trauma so he wouldn’t feel guilty.
The second incident broke Nikitha’s heart in a different way.
“Tharun’s mother was strongly against us. She threatened to stop funding his higher studies if we continued. I secretly met Aunty alone. I took all the blame. I told her I was not good enough for him and promised to stay away so he could complete his education peacefully. I lied with a smile while my heart was breaking. That is why I detached myself for so long. But I couldn’t stay completely away… I maintained secret contact with him so he wouldn’t be hurt. I hide these details so he and his mom won’t fight. I don’t have a mother anymore. At least he does. I don’t want to break that bond.”
Nikitha realised with a painful clarity: Tharun still didn’t know the full truth. He thought Mithra had simply grown distant. In reality, she had sacrificed their relationship multiple times to protect his future and his family ties.
The third incident, though it started with a lie, showed the depth of Mithra’s commitment.
Tharun had been hospitalised with typhoid. His mother, still hesitant about their relationship, lied to Mithra and said it was a sudden serious kidney infection. She told Mithra the family was struggling financially and indirectly asked her to leave Tharun alone.
Mithra’s response was written with quiet determination:
“Aunty said his kidneys were failing and they couldn’t afford treatment. I was already donating blood regularly. I offered to donate one of my kidneys if needed. I even got myself tested secretly as a potential donor without telling Tharun. When Aunty realised what I was willing to do, her attitude softened. She started seeing me differently after that. I don’t know if Tharun will ever know how close I came to giving him a part of my body.”
There were many more small incidents scattered throughout the diary — Mithra skipping meals to save money for saving for debt, running to hospital when he was in typhoid, sleeping on Chairs. A lot.
Nikitha closed the diary, her face wet with tears. The weight of what she had discovered pressed heavily on her chest.
She whispered to herself, voice breaking, “You don’t deserve Tharun… He may choose you. You may choose him. But it means nothing before this. Nothing.”
For the first time, she truly believed Tharun had made the wrong decision by walking away from Mithra. This was not ordinary love. This was the kind of love that sacrificed everything without asking for anything in return.
Nikitha’s own feelings for Jay, her guilt, and now this undeniable truth collided inside her. She no longer wanted to share Tharun.
She wanted to sacrifice her place so Mithra could have him back.
Quietly, she wiped her tears, placed the diary exactly where she had found it, and slipped out of the cabin before Mithra could return from the emergency ward. Her heart was heavy, but her resolve had never been clearer.
It was time to let go.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)