0:01 The morning sun had barely risen when
0:04 Meera stepped out of the small mud house
0:06 she shared with her father. The air was
0:08 cold and deuce still rested gently on
0:11 the grass. Her father, weak and coughing
0:14 lightly, watched her from the doorway.
0:16 Mirror, he called softly, his voice
0:19 trembling with age and illness. She
0:21 paused and looked back at him. You don't
0:24 have to go this early. Rest a little.
0:26 Mera forced a small smile, though her
0:29 heart felt heavy. If I rest, there will
0:30 be nothing to eat today," she said
0:33 quietly. Her father lowered his eyes. He
0:35 hated that she had to suffer this way.
0:37 But life had not given them many
0:40 choices. Since Myra's mother died,
0:42 everything fell on her shoulders. The
0:44 cooking, the cleaning, and most
0:46 importantly, the firewood selling that
0:49 kept their home running. She tied a worn
0:51 scarf around her head and picked up the
0:53 small axe leaning against the wall. Then
0:56 she headed into the forest path that led
0:58 to the bush. The ground was still wet
1:00 and her slippers soaked quickly, but she
1:03 kept walking. Mera was not just working
1:06 for herself and her father. She was
1:09 working for love. For David, David was
1:11 the boy she had grown up with, the boy
1:13 she laughed with at the stream, the boy
1:16 who once held her hands and told her she
1:18 was his future. He had big dreams to
1:20 study at the university and become an
1:23 engineer. But dreams cost money, money
1:26 neither of them had. Yet Meera believed
1:28 in him. She believed in his mind, his
1:31 heart, his future. So she made a promise
1:33 to him one evening two years ago. I will
1:36 find a way. You will go to school. I
1:38 will support you even if I have to sell
1:41 firewood every day. And she had done
1:44 exactly that. She reached the forest and
1:47 began to gather sticks and logs. She
1:51 cut, broke, tied, and lifted until the
1:53 bundle was almost heavier than she was.
1:57 Her hands had scars, deep, rough,
2:00 painful, but she never complained. Love
2:02 made her strong. When she walked back
2:03 through the village carrying the heavy
2:05 load on her head, people watched her
2:08 with pity. That girl is wasting herself,
2:11 one woman whispered. She should find
2:13 someone who can help her, not when she
2:15 is helping, another said. But Meera
2:17 didn't listen. Her heart was stubborn
2:20 and loyal. David was her choice. By
2:23 noon, she was at the roadside market
2:25 arranging the firewood in small bundles.
2:28 Sweat rolled down her face and her dress
2:30 clung to her skin. She waved at passers
2:33 by trying to draw customers without
2:35 sounding desperate. Some days she sold
2:38 well. Some days she returned home with
2:40 almost nothing. But every month, no
2:42 matter how hard or slow business had
2:44 been, she made sure to send money to
2:47 David, who was now far away in the city
2:50 studying. He called sometimes, though
2:53 not as often as before. When he did, his
2:56 voice sounded tired, distracted,
2:59 distant. Mera, school is hard. I have
3:02 many things to do. I can't talk long.
3:04 But Mera always smiled through the
3:06 phone, never complaining. It's all
3:09 right. I just wanted to hear your voice.
3:11 Study well. Remember what we are working
3:14 for, what she was working for. David
3:17 always said thank you. But his thank you
3:19 started sounding different with time.
3:22 Less warm, less full, almost like a
3:26 duty. Still Meera believed, still Meera
3:29 hoped, still Mera loved. She prayed
3:31 every night that her sacrifice would not
3:33 be in vain. That one day she would stand
3:36 beside David in a better life, a life
3:38 they both dreamed of. But fate was
3:40 already writing a different story. A
3:43 story she could not yet see. A story
3:45 that would break her and then rebuild
3:48 her stronger than anyone expected. The
3:50 days passed slowly, yet the months
3:53 seemed to fly. Every morning, Mera woke
3:55 up before the sun rose. She fetched
3:58 water, made her father's tea, and headed
4:01 to the bush to cut wood. Her life was
4:04 routine, but it had purpose, David. One
4:07 quiet evening, Mera sat outside her
4:09 house with her father. The sky was
4:11 painted in soft shades of orange and
4:13 pink, and the evening breeze carried the
4:15 smell of cooking fires from neighboring
4:18 homes. Her father glanced at her hands.
4:21 Rough, blistered, and bruised. "You work
4:24 too hard," he murmured. Meera smiled
4:26 lightly. "I'm used to it. But you
4:28 shouldn't be used to suffering," he
4:30 replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "A
4:33 young woman should be cherished, cared for.
4:34 for.
4:36 Meera looked away. She didn't want him
4:39 to see the sudden sting in her eyes. "I
4:41 chose this," she said softly. "The truth
4:44 was she didn't know any other life. Love
4:46 had made her sacrifice feel like
4:48 purpose." A few minutes later, her phone
4:51 buzzed. "David was calling." She stood
4:53 quickly and walked behind the house
4:56 where it was quiet. "David," she said,
4:58 her voice already filled with warmth.
5:02 "Yes, Meera, I'm fine. I received the
5:05 money. Thank you. His tone was flat,
5:07 rushed, like he had somewhere else to
5:10 be. Myra smile weakened, but she worked
5:13 to keep her voice steady. I'm glad it
5:15 helped. How are your studies? Stressful?
5:18 He sighed. Here, everything is
5:21 different. People think fast. Everyone
5:23 is competing. I don't even sleep much.
5:25 I'm proud of you, she said. There was
5:28 silence, not the comfortable kind they
5:31 once shared. A distant, unfamiliar
5:33 silence. Mera, I want to tell you
5:35 something," David said finally. Her
5:37 heart paused. "I've been thinking. When
5:40 I finish school and get a good job,
5:42 everything will change." "For both of
5:44 us." Mirror released a breath. She
5:47 didn't realize she was holding. "Yes,"
5:49 she whispered, smiling again. "We'll get
5:52 married," David continued. "We'll leave
5:53 the village. I'll buy you a better
5:56 house. I'll take care of your father,
5:58 too. I promise." A tear slipped down
6:02 Myra's cheek. a tear of hope, of love,
6:04 of relief. "Just don't give up on me,"
6:06 he added. "I need you to keep
6:09 believing." "I will," she said, her
6:11 voice gentle and sure. "I'll always
6:14 believe in you." They ended the call.
6:16 Mera pressed the phone to her chest and
6:18 closed her eyes. That night, she slept
6:21 with a smile. But life in the city was
6:23 changing David in ways Meera did not yet
6:26 see. In the university, David was
6:28 discovering a world he had never
6:31 imagined. A world of bright lights, good
6:34 food, expensive phones, stylish clothes,
6:36 and confident people who walked like
6:38 they own the earth. He felt small at
6:40 first, but soon he started wanting to
6:43 fit in. He avoided taking pictures with
6:45 the old shoes Mera bought him. He
6:47 stopped mentioning the village when
6:49 friends talked about their homes. He
6:50 never spoke about the girl selling
6:53 firewood who sent him money every month.
6:56 And then there was Sandra. She was from
6:58 a well-known family in the city. Her
7:01 father had businesses. Her mother drove
7:04 a fancy car. Sandra had soft hands and
7:06 perfume that smelled like flowers. She
7:09 was everything the city admired. David
7:12 felt drawn to her, or rather drawn to
7:14 the life around her. It t first it was
7:17 friendship. Then it became late night
7:19 conversations. Then it became something
7:22 else. Meera did not know any of this.
7:23 She only knew the promise she held
7:26 close. A promise she repeated to herself
7:28 whenever her hands achd. Whenever she
7:31 carried firewood under the burning sun,
7:33 whenever hunger sat heavy in her
7:35 stomach. One day, all this will be worth
7:38 it. But life was preparing a lesson for
7:40 her, one that would break her heart wide
7:43 open. The hermitan season came, bringing
7:45 dry winds and dust that settled on
7:48 rooftops and on people's skin. The days
7:51 felt longer and the evenings colder. Yet
7:54 Myra's routine remained the same. She
7:57 woke before dawn, worked all day, and
7:59 returned home exhausted. But she never
8:01 complained because she believed in a
8:04 future she could not yet touch. One late
8:06 afternoon, after a long day at the
8:08 market, Mera sat behind her house,
8:11 washing her feet in a small basin. Her
8:14 body achd everywhere, shoulders, back,
8:17 wrists, but her mind was somewhere far
8:19 away. Her father watched her silently
8:21 from the doorway. You have not heard
8:24 from David today, he said gently. Mera
8:26 nodded. He must be busy. Her father
8:29 sighed deeply, leaning on his walking
8:32 stick. Mirror, sometimes when people
8:34 move forward in life, they forget where
8:38 they came from. She paused, her fingers
8:40 gripping the basin rim. David is not
8:42 like that, she said quietly. Her father
8:45 didn't argue. He simply watched her with
8:46 eyes that had seen more of the world
8:49 than hers had. He wanted to protect her,
8:52 but some lessons he knew. Life teaches
8:55 on its own. That night, Meera tried to
8:59 call David. The phone rang once, twice,
9:03 then four times. No answer. She waited.
9:05 Minutes became hours. Later, he sent a
9:09 text. Sorry. In class, I'll call later.
9:11 But he didn't call. And that became the
9:13 new pattern. Days turned into weeks
9:15 where Mirror would hear only small
9:18 pieces of him. rushed messages, tired
9:21 tones, excuses that cut softly like
9:24 paper. Yet, she held on. She said
9:27 nothing. She didn't want to be a burden.
9:28 She didn't want to be the reason he felt
9:31 pressure. Love made her patient.
9:33 Meanwhile, in the city, David was
9:35 sitting in the university cafeteria,
9:38 laughing with Sandra and some of her
9:40 friends. Sandra looked elegant even when
9:43 tired, her nails polished, her smile
9:46 warm and confident. David admired the
9:48 way she spoke, the way she moved, the
9:50 way she commanded attention without
9:52 trying. When her friends asked David
9:54 about his life before school, he avoided
9:58 details. He changed topics. He laughed
10:00 things off. Sandra believed David came
10:03 from a modest background. Not poverty,
10:06 not struggle, not firewood. David never
10:09 corrected her. One evening, Sandra
10:11 leaned her head on his shoulder and
10:13 said, "I'm glad I met you. You're
10:15 different. You carry yourself with
10:18 dignity, not desperation. David felt a
10:21 strange pride swell in him. Desperation.
10:24 He knew who that word pointed to, yet he
10:26 said nothing. He simply allowed silence
10:29 to agree. Back in the village, life
10:32 continued in slow, aching rhythm. Every
10:35 evening, Meera sat under the mango tree
10:37 near their house and looked toward the
10:40 dusty road that led out of the village.
10:42 She imagined David walking back home
10:44 with his bag, smiling at her, telling
10:47 her that school was over and life was
10:49 about to change. Sometimes she spoke
10:52 softly to herself like a prayer. Just a
10:55 little longer. He is coming back. He
10:58 will remember. Her father would pass by,
11:00 pause, look at her, then continue
11:03 walking saying nothing because some
11:06 heartbreaks begin quietly long before
11:09 anyone realizes they have started. One
11:11 day, Mera went to the mobile money agent
11:13 to send David his monthly school
11:15 allowance. It was smaller this month.
11:18 Business had been slow, but she sent it
11:21 anyway. "Done," the agent said, handing
11:24 her the receipt. Meera smiled, tired,
11:27 but hopeful. "That night," David finally
11:29 called. Meera, "You didn't have to send
11:32 anything this month," he said. But his
11:34 voice did not sound grateful. It sounded
11:37 irritated. Myra's smile faded, though
11:40 she didn't let her voice shake. I know
11:42 things are hard for you. I just wanted
11:44 to help. There was a long silence on the
11:48 phone. Mirror, David finally said, just
11:51 don't stress yourself too much. And for
11:53 the first time, there was no warmth, no
11:56 promise, no future in his words, just
11:59 distance. So quiet that even Myra's
12:01 heart heard it. But hope is a stubborn
12:05 thing. and love when true and pure
12:07 refuses to die quickly. Meera held the
12:10 phone to her chest. She whispered to the
12:12 night, "I will not give up." She didn't
12:14 know that the person she was holding on
12:17 to was already letting go. Month after
12:19 month, the distance between Meera and
12:22 David widened slowly, quietly, the way
12:25 grass grows. It does not happen in a
12:27 single day. But one morning, you look
12:30 and the ground is no longer the same.
12:32 Yet Meera did not see it that way. She
12:35 explained things to herself. He must be
12:37 busy. He must be tired. He must be
12:40 stressed. Love teaches a person how to
12:42 defend the one they love. Even when the
12:45 world is pointing at the truth. One late
12:48 afternoon, Meera sat at the market, her
12:50 firewood neatly arranged in small
12:53 bundles. The sun was hot, but the wind
12:56 was cool. Vendors called out prices.
12:59 Children ran past laughing and Mera sat
13:01 quietly watching the road lost in her
13:04 thoughts. A woman selling vegetables
13:07 nearby sighed deeply. Mera, she said.
13:09 When was the last time that boy came
13:13 home? Mera looked up gently. David, he
13:15 is studying. He will graduate soon. The
13:18 woman nodded slowly, choosing her words
13:21 with care. H just make sure you are not
13:23 holding on to someone who is not holding
13:26 on to you. Mera smiled politely, but
13:29 inside something shifted. A soft, small
13:32 ache. "He loves me," she replied simply.
13:34 "The woman didn't argue. She just nodded
13:37 and returned to sorting tomatoes, but
13:39 Myra's heart felt heavier than before."
13:42 That evening, Mera prepared dinner for
13:45 her father. They ate quietly, listening
13:47 to the crickets outside. The sky was
13:50 dark and the air cool. Her father
13:52 watched her as she washed the plates.
13:55 mirror," he began gently. "If life gives
13:58 you a sign, don't close your eyes. She
14:01 knew what he meant. She felt it, but she
14:03 wasn't ready to accept it." "I just need
14:05 to hold on a little longer," she
14:08 whispered. Her father sighed, not out of
14:10 frustration, but out of helpless love.
14:12 Meanwhile, in the city, David had
14:14 changed in ways Mera would not
14:17 recognize. His clothes were new, his
14:19 accent had softened, his shoulders were
14:22 straighter, his steps more confident.
14:25 Sandra stood beside him in everything.
14:28 Dinners, outings, lectures, they moved
14:30 like two people who fit into the same
14:33 world. One evening, as they sat under
14:35 the school pavilion, Sandra leaned close
14:38 and asked softly, "David, are you seeing
14:41 someone?" He hesitated just for a moment
14:44 before shaking his head. No, there's no
14:46 one. And that was the first time David
14:49 lied with ease. He didn't feel guilt,
14:51 just relief, like he had cut off a piece
14:53 of his past that no longer matched his
14:56 future. Back in the village, the seasons
15:00 changed again. Rain came heavy and loud
15:02 on the roof. The firewood became harder
15:04 to cut and harder to sell. Mera
15:07 sometimes worked with wet clothes,
15:09 sometimes with an empty stomach. But she
15:12 kept sending money. She kept waiting.
15:14 She kept believing. And then one
15:18 morning, her phone rang. "David." Her
15:20 hands shook slightly when she picked up.
15:23 "Mera," he said, sounding lighter than
15:25 he had in months. "I have good news. I'm
15:28 graduating next week." Meera felt warmth
15:30 rush through her chest. Her eyes
15:33 immediately filled with tears, not of
15:36 sadness, but joy. "David, I'm so happy
15:39 for you," she whispered. He continued,
15:41 "I want you to come. I want you to be
15:44 there. Meera covered her mouth to stop
15:47 herself from crying out. Yes, I'll come.
15:49 Of course, I'll come. She didn't see
15:52 David's hesitation. Brief, quiet before
15:56 he replied. All right, see you then.
15:58 They ended the call. Meera sat down
16:00 slowly on the doorstep, her breath
16:02 trembling. Her father came out and saw
16:05 her eyes shining. "What happened?" he
16:07 asked softly. "He finished," she
16:09 whispered. He is graduating and he wants
16:12 me to come. Her father looked at her for
16:15 a long moment. He smiled but it was a
16:18 sad smile. Then go, he said. Go and see
16:20 what your love has built. Mera nodded,
16:23 her heart full. She had no idea that the
16:25 journey ahead would not lead her to
16:28 celebration, but to the truth. A truth
16:30 she had been avoiding for so long. The
16:32 evening before Meera was to travel, she
16:35 could hardly sleep. She lay on her small
16:37 mat, staring up at the ceiling,
16:39 listening to the insects singing
16:42 outside, she imagined the day ahead.
16:45 David in a graduation gown, smiling proudly,
16:47 proudly,
16:50 reaching for her first, calling her name
16:52 in front of everyone. This is the girl
16:55 who made everything possible. Her heart
16:57 swelled at the thought. She had waited
16:59 years for that moment. She believed it
17:01 was finally time for her joy. She woke
17:04 up before dawn and heated water for her
17:06 father's bath. She laid out the only
17:08 decent dress she owned. It was not new.
17:10 She had worn it to church many times,
17:12 but she washed it carefully and ironed
17:15 it with a warm metal plate, making sure
17:17 every fold was smooth. Her father
17:19 watched her quietly. "You look
17:22 beautiful," he said. Meera smiled softly
17:24 and knelt so he could bless her journey.
17:26 He placed his shaking hands on her head.
17:28 "May your heart not meet what will break
17:31 it," he murmured. Meera hugged him. His
17:33 blessing felt heavy, almost like a
17:36 warning, but she did not dwell on it.
17:38 Her heart was full of hope. The road to
17:41 the city was long and dusty. Mera sat in
17:43 the back of the bus, squeezed between
17:46 two traders carrying baskets. The wind
17:48 blew in through the open windows,
17:50 filling her eyes with dust, but she
17:52 didn't mind. She kept her small bag
17:54 close and held her phone in her hand the
17:56 entire journey, waiting for David to
17:59 call. She watched the city grow closer.
18:01 First the tall buildings, then the busy
18:04 roads, the loud voices, the cars that
18:06 moved faster than she was used to.
18:09 Everything felt bigger, louder,
18:12 brighter. She whispered to herself. Soon
18:14 I will see him soon. When the bus
18:17 stopped, she stepped down slowly, unsure
18:19 where to go. The city moved like a
18:22 river, fast and without waiting for
18:25 anyone. Meera stood still for a moment,
18:28 overwhelmed. She dialed David's number.
18:32 It rang once, twice, three times. He did
18:35 not pick. She waited, her fingers
18:37 tightening around the phone. She tried
18:41 again. This time, he answered. Hello.
18:44 His voice sounded distracted. David, I'm
18:47 here. I've reached the city park. Oh,
18:49 okay. I'm at the school hall. The
18:51 program is starting. Just find a bike
18:54 and come straight. Ask them for Bright
18:56 Future University. Everyone knows it.
18:59 His words were quick. No excitement, no
19:02 warmth. But Meera did not think too
19:04 deeply. She only nodded even though he
19:08 could not see her. Okay, I'm coming. She
19:10 found a motorcycle rider and told him
19:12 the name of the university. The ride was
19:15 rough, noisy, and fast. The wind tore at
19:17 her hair and her dress, but she held on
19:20 tightly. She imagined David waiting for
19:22 her at the gate, but when she arrived,
19:24 he was not there. Students filled the
19:28 compound, laughing, hugging, taking
19:30 pictures, wearing gowns and caps,
19:33 celebrating the end of struggle. Mera
19:35 felt small among them. She walked
19:38 slowly, searching. Then she saw him
19:40 across the wide courtyard, wearing his
19:43 graduation gown, smiling brightly, but
19:46 not at her. He was standing beside a
19:49 girl, beautiful, well-dressed,
19:51 confident. Her hair was styled in long
19:54 braids. She wore an expensive dress and
19:56 jewelry that shone in the sun. They were
19:58 holding hands. David looked different
20:01 beside her, polished, proud, sure of
20:04 himself. Meera stopped walking. Her feet
20:07 felt rooted. Her heartbeat echoed in her
20:10 ears. For a moment, she just watched,
20:12 waiting for him to look up and see her,
20:15 to smile, to run to her, to say you
20:18 came. But he didn't see her. Or maybe he
20:21 saw her and pretended not to. Myra's
20:24 fingers loosened on her bag. Her throat
20:26 tightened. She took a slow breath,
20:28 steadying herself. Then she stepped
20:32 forward. One step, another toward the
20:34 truth. A truth she prayed would not
20:37 break her. Mera walked slowly across the
20:40 courtyard. Her steps small and careful
20:42 like someone afraid the ground might
20:44 disappear beneath her feet. Her dress
20:46 fluttered slightly in the breeze. She
20:48 could feel people brushing past her,
20:51 laughing, celebrating, taking pictures,
20:54 a world full of noise. But inside her,
20:57 everything was quiet. She stopped a few
20:59 steps away from David. He noticed her.
21:03 Then his smile froze. His eyes changed.
21:05 Not surprised, not happy, not proud, but
21:07 uneasy, as if her presence was a
21:10 problem. "Mirrora," he said, his voice
21:13 low, almost cautious. Meera smiled, a
21:16 soft, hopeful smile that trembled. "I
21:19 came," she said. "Just like you asked."
21:21 David nodded stiffly. He cleared his
21:23 throat and shifted slightly, creating a
21:26 small space, not to welcome her in, but
21:28 to make sure she stayed out of the
21:30 circle. The girl beside him looked at
21:33 Meera curiously. David placed his arm
21:35 lightly around the girl's waist, a
21:36 gesture that was casual but full of
21:39 meaning. "Mirror," he said, "this is
21:42 Sandra." Mera felt it, the floor beneath
21:45 her heart tilting. Sandra smiled
21:48 politely. It was a soft, gentle smile,
21:50 the kind one gives a stranger in
21:52 passing. "Hello," she said kindly.
21:55 "David has told me something about you."
21:58 Mera swallowed something. Not
22:01 everything, not who she was to him. Not
22:03 the nights they stayed awake talking
22:06 about the future. Not the promises, not
22:09 the years, not the sacrifices, just
22:11 something. Meera nodded. Hello, she
22:14 replied quietly. There was a pause,
22:16 long, uncomfortable,
22:18 heavy like thick smoke that has nowhere
22:20 to escape. Sandra leaned closer to David
22:22 and said softly, "We should take more
22:24 pictures before the photographer
22:27 leaves." David nodded eagerly. "Too
22:29 eagerly." "Right, right," he said. He
22:32 didn't look at mirror. "Not once. He
22:34 didn't ask how she came. He didn't
22:35 notice the dust on her shoes from the
22:38 long journey. He didn't ask if she had
22:40 eaten. He didn't see the way her hands
22:42 were shaking. Sandra began walking ahead
22:45 to join her friends. David turned to
22:47 Meera and for the first time she saw
22:50 fear in his eyes. Not fear of hurting
22:53 her, but fear of being seen with her. He
22:55 spoke quickly like someone trying to
22:58 escape. Mirror, look. I didn't expect
23:01 you to arrive this early. Things are a
23:04 bit complicated. I'll explain later.
23:06 Just just wait somewhere. I'll come and
23:09 meet you. Wait. Myra's eyes lifted to
23:12 his. You want me to wait? She whispered.
23:15 David avoided her eyes. Just for now,
23:18 please. She swallowed, the pain rising
23:21 slowly, quietly like water filling a
23:24 room. She nodded once. "Okay." She
23:28 stepped back. David exhaled, relieved.
23:30 Relieved she did not make a scene. He
23:33 walked away. He joined Sandra. He
23:35 laughed. He posed for pictures. He held
23:38 her waist again. He fit into that world
23:41 easily, naturally. Mera watched. Not
23:45 with anger. Not yet. Just disbelief. She
23:47 walked to a small bench under a tree
23:50 away from the crowd. She sat down, her
23:52 hands folded tightly in her lap, her
23:55 heart beating in painful hollow thumps.
23:58 She whispered to herself so quietly the
24:00 wind almost took the words away. I just
24:03 need to wait. He said he would explain.
24:06 He will come. But the truth was already
24:08 unfolding in front of her. It was in the
24:10 pictures he took, in the laughter he
24:13 shared, in the way he never once looked
24:15 toward the tree where she sat. It was
24:18 happening slowly but clearly. She was
24:21 watching him walk away in real time. Yet
24:24 love, love can be so painfully loyal. So
24:26 she stayed. She waited under the shade
24:29 of a tree at the edge of a celebration
24:32 that did not belong to her. And the day
24:35 went on. The sun moved. The ceremony
24:39 ended. People began leaving. And still
24:41 David did not come. The courtyard slowly
24:44 emptied as the graduation celebration
24:46 came to an end. The sun was beginning to
24:49 set, casting long shadows across the
24:51 compound. Students were leaving with
24:53 their families, their laughter echoing
24:56 faintly like distant bells. Meera was
24:58 still sitting under the tree, her hands
25:00 clasped together tightly to stop them
25:02 from shaking. She had been waiting for
25:06 hours quietly just like he asked. She
25:07 watched the crowd thin, watched people
25:10 hug, watched parents beam proudly at
25:13 their children, and then she saw David
25:15 walking toward her. But he was not
25:17 alone. Sandra was with him, still
25:20 holding his arm. They stopped in front
25:23 of mirror. David took a quiet breath as
25:25 though preparing himself. Mirror, he
25:27 began. I should have said this earlier.
25:30 I didn't want it to come out this way.
25:33 But Sandra is my fiance. The word fiance
25:36 did not land all at once. It came
25:38 slowly, like a knife sliding in before
25:41 the pain arrives. Meera felt the world
25:43 become blurry for a moment. Her lips
25:46 parted slightly, but no sound came out.
25:49 Sandra looked at her kindly but without
25:51 understanding because she did not know
25:53 who Meera was. She did not know the
25:57 years, the sacrifices, the love. Fiance,
26:00 Mera repeated, her voice barely above a
26:03 whisper. David nodded avoiding her eyes.
26:06 Meera took a small step forward. David,
26:08 she said softly. I cut wood with my own
26:11 hands to send you to school. I walked
26:13 under the sun. I carried loads heavier
26:16 than my body. I didn't eat some days. I
26:19 believed in you when no one did. I I
26:22 gave everything for you. Her voice broke
26:25 on the last word. A tear slid down slow
26:28 and warm, carving a path through the
26:31 dust on her face. David's jaw tightened,
26:33 not in sorrow, but in discomfort, in
26:36 shame. And shame often turns itself into
26:39 coldness. Mirror, he said, his tone
26:41 changing. I didn't force you to do any
26:44 of that. I never asked you to sacrifice
26:46 yourself for me. You did what you wanted
26:48 to do. And now my life is moving in a
26:52 different direction. Mera blinked slowly
26:54 as if absorbing a blow. So it had all
26:56 come to this. Her love was not
26:59 remembered as love. It was remembered as
27:01 a choice he did not owe anything for.
27:04 Sandra's expression changed. Confused,
27:06 unsettled, now realizing something
27:09 deeper existed here, something she
27:11 hadn't been told. But she remained
27:14 silent. Myra's voice trembled now. So
27:16 all this time I was just holding on to
27:19 myself. David looked away. I'm sorry,
27:22 Meera, but I can't go back. The air
27:24 between them went still. Painfully
27:27 still. Meera covered her mouth with her
27:30 hand and let out a sound, not a scream,
27:32 not a cry, something softer, more
27:35 broken. A sound of something inside her
27:38 collapsing. She turned slowly like
27:40 someone who had forgotten how to walk
27:43 and began to leave. No one stopped her.
27:45 No one called her name. She walked
27:47 through the school gate, down the dusty
27:50 road, past the motorcycles and the shops
27:52 and the noise until the city became
27:55 quiet behind her. Her tears didn't fall
27:58 all at once. They came slowly, like her
28:00 heart was crying drop by drop. It was
28:02 late evening when she returned to the
28:05 village. The sky was dark, the wind
28:07 cold. Her father was sitting outside
28:10 waiting. When he saw her walking toward
28:13 the house alone, he knew. He didn't ask.
28:16 He didn't say a word. He simply opened
28:19 his arms and mirror fell into him
28:22 shaking, sobbing, breaking. "Papa," she
28:25 cried into his chest, her voice cracking
28:27 painfully. "I did everything for him,
28:30 everything, and he left me." Her father
28:32 held her tighter, stroking her back
28:35 gently. My child," he whispered, his own
28:38 voice heavy. "Love is a seed, but it
28:40 must be planted in soil that wants to
28:42 grow. You planted in a heart that had
28:45 already closed." Meera wept harder,
28:47 clutching his shirt. Her father closed
28:50 his eyes, feeling his own tears rise.
28:52 "But listen to me," he continued, his
28:55 voice steady despite the pain. "You did
28:58 not lose anything. It is he who has lost
29:00 because the world has only won you.
29:03 Kindness like yours is not found twice.
29:05 Myra's cries softened into quiet sobs.
29:07 Her father held her until the night grew
29:10 silent. And in that moment, Meera did
29:13 not heal. But she did not break alone.
29:15 The days that followed were quiet in the
29:17 small village. The kind of quiet that
29:20 feels heavy, not peaceful, but filled
29:23 with unspoken things. Mera woke up every
29:25 morning, but her movements were slower
29:27 now. She fetched water, swept the
29:30 compound, prepared her father's tea, but
29:32 the spark that once lived in her eyes
29:35 was dim. She did not go to the market
29:37 for a while. The firewood axe rested
29:40 untouched against the wall. Her father
29:42 watched her closely, not with pressure,
29:44 but with patient presence. He did not
29:47 rush her grief. He knew heartbreak had
29:49 no quick remedies. Sometimes, when the
29:52 sun was high, Mirror sat outside under
29:54 the mango tree, just staring at the
29:57 road. The same road she once looked at
29:59 with hope. Now she looked at with
30:01 emptiness. She replayed everything in
30:04 her mind. The nights she stayed awake
30:06 talking to him. The morning she woke
30:09 early to work. The laughter, the
30:12 promises, the dream. They felt distant
30:14 now, like a story that happened to
30:17 someone else. One afternoon, as Meera
30:19 sat outside, her father came to sit
30:22 beside her. He sat slowly as his bones
30:24 were not young anymore. They sat in
30:27 silence for some time. "Mirror," he said
30:29 finally, his voice gentle. "You have
30:31 cried enough for someone who did not see
30:34 your worth." She didn't respond. Her
30:36 eyes stayed fixed on the road. He
30:38 continued, "Pain does not mean you were
30:41 foolish. It means you loved. And loving
30:44 is not a crime." A tear rolled down
30:46 Myra's cheek, though she didn't even
30:48 seem to notice it. "But now," her father
30:50 said softly, "you must love yourself,
30:54 too." Mera took a slow breath. shaky but
30:56 deeper than before. I don't know how to
30:58 start again, she whispered. Her father
31:01 nodded as if he had expected that. You
31:04 don't start by forgetting, he said. You
31:07 start by living. One small step, then
31:10 another, and slowly. Your heart will
31:12 remember how to beat without breaking.
31:15 Mera closed her eyes. Her father's words
31:17 did not fix the pain, but they softened
31:21 it just a little. The next morning, she
31:23 woke before dawn, just as she always
31:26 used to. She sat on the edge of her bed,
31:29 looking at her hands, the same hands
31:31 that had once worked with pride and
31:34 hope. She stood, tied her scarf, and
31:37 walked to the bush. The air was cool,
31:38 filled with the smell of early morning
31:41 leaves. Birds were just waking. The
31:44 world felt new, untouched. Mirror picked
31:46 up the axe. Her grip was unsteady at
31:49 first, but then she exhaled slowly and
31:51 began to gather wood. Her movements were
31:54 slow but careful. She wasn't working for
31:56 someone now. She wasn't sending money to
31:59 anyone. She was simply trying to live
32:01 again. When she returned to the market,
32:03 the women noticed her, some looked at
32:06 her with sympathy, some with curiosity,
32:09 but no one mocked her, and Meera did not
32:12 speak much. But she worked quietly,
32:14 steadily. Her heart was still healing,
32:17 raw, bruised, tender, but she was
32:20 breathing again. Weeks passed, slowly,
32:23 gently. Sometimes she still cried at
32:25 night. Sometimes she woke up with her
32:27 chest tight. Healing is not a straight
32:30 road. It is a winding path. But her
32:33 father was there, always sitting near
32:36 her, helping her tie bundles, eating her
32:38 food, even when she barely tasted it.
32:41 She was not alone. One evening,
32:43 something unexpected happened. A truck
32:45 stopped near her firewood stall. The
32:47 driver was a calm-l lookinging man with
32:49 thoughtful eyes. He watched her work for
32:52 a while, then approached. "I've been
32:54 observing you," he said, his tone
32:56 respectful, not intrusive. "Every day
32:59 you are here. You carry yourself with
33:01 dignity. I run a charcoal and timber
33:03 supply business. I am looking for
33:06 serious, honest partners from villages
33:09 like this." Meera looked up slowly. His
33:11 eyes were steady, not pitying, not
33:14 curious, just sincere. "I can buy your
33:17 firewood in bulk," he continued. "Not
33:19 just these small bundles. If you're
33:21 willing, it will mean more work, but
33:24 also better income." Myra's breath
33:27 caught slightly. She didn't speak yet.
33:29 She simply listened. Her father, who had
33:32 been nearby, stepped forward quietly.
33:35 The man greeted him respectfully. They
33:38 talked for some time. Slow, detailed,
33:42 gentle, not rushed, not forced. An
33:45 opportunity was opening.
33:48 Not because Mirror chased it, but
33:50 because life was beginning to turn very
33:54 quietly, very slowly, just like healing.
33:56 Meera began partnering with the man who
33:58 came to the village. His name was Mr.
34:02 Jonah. He was patient and respectful,
34:04 never speaking to her as if she was
34:06 small or dependent. He saw how hard she
34:09 worked, how carefully she measured each
34:12 bundle, how she never cheated anyone. He
34:15 admired her honesty. With time, Mr.
34:17 Jonah introduced her to suppliers, to
34:19 transporters, and to market sellers in
34:22 nearby towns. He taught her how to
34:24 calculate profit, how to set prices, and
34:27 how to save properly. Meera listened
34:30 quietly. She did not rush herself. She
34:33 learned slowly, steadily. Months passed,
34:36 then a year. Her firewood stand became a
34:38 small distribution stall. Then a
34:41 storehouse. Then a small transport truck
34:44 was hired in her name. She no longer
34:46 carried firewood on her head. She
34:49 oversaw workers now calm, gentle, and
34:51 fair. Her father watched her rise with
34:54 pride, warming his tired eyes. "You
34:56 see," he would say, resting his hand on
34:58 hers. Your hands did not fail you. Your
35:01 heart did not betray you. It only
35:04 learned. Mirror would smile softly. She
35:06 was not the same girl who once waited
35:08 under a mango tree with tearful hope.
35:11 Her heart had healed, not quickly, but
35:13 truthfully. She had learned that love is
35:17 not proven by suffering. Love is proven
35:19 by how it returns what is given. And
35:22 David never returned anything. David had
35:24 started a new life with Sandra. At
35:27 first, things were bright. They took
35:30 pictures. They smiled. They attended
35:32 weddings. They posed like the world was
35:35 theirs. But life has its seasons. Sandra
35:38 liked comfort. And David, fresh from
35:40 university, did not yet have much to
35:44 give. Her expectations grew sharper. Her
35:46 tone less gentle. Arguments filled the
35:49 house. Money became a constant shadow.
35:51 David tried to find good jobs, but
35:54 competition was high. And every time he
35:57 failed, Sandra's patience thinned. "You
35:59 can't provide the life I want," she said
36:01 one evening, her eyes cold. And
36:05 eventually, she left. Just walked away,
36:08 leaving David with nothing but memories.
36:10 Memories he tried to silence, but could
36:13 not. And in those moments of quiet, when
36:16 pride finally grew tired, Myra's face
36:19 returned. Not the face of pain, but the
36:22 face of loyalty, the girl who believed
36:24 in him when no one did. Regret settled
36:27 in his bones like winter cold. One
36:29 morning, 2 years after the graduation
36:31 day, a familiar figure walked into
36:35 Myra's compound. David, his clothes were
36:38 worn, his eyes tired, his shoulders no
36:40 longer proud. Life had humbled him.
36:42 Mirror was sorting charcoal when she
36:45 looked up and saw him. Her heart did not
36:48 race. It did not stumble. It simply
36:51 stood still, calm and steady. Mirror, he
36:53 whispered, his voice breaking. I came to
36:56 say, I'm sorry. She looked at him really
36:58 looked. Not with anger, not with
37:01 longing, but with understanding. The
37:03 kind that comes after pain has already
37:06 done its work. You hurt me, Mera said
37:08 quietly. You broke what I gave with all
37:11 my heart. David nodded, tears gathering.
37:14 I was foolish, blind. I didn't know your
37:17 worth. Please, if we could just Meera
37:20 lifted her hand gently, not to silence
37:22 him harshly, but to stop a wound from
37:24 reopening. There is no we, she said
37:27 softly. There is only what has passed
37:29 and what we have learned. David
37:32 swallowed hard. His tears finally fell.
37:34 I lost you, he whispered. Mera shook her
37:38 head. No, she said calm and sure. You
37:40 lost yourself when you chose image over
37:42 love. I only walked away when I had
37:44 nothing left to hold on to. The wind
37:47 moved softly between them. David lowered
37:50 his head, sobbing quietly. Meera watched
37:52 him, and then she did something
37:55 surprising. She forgave him, not with
37:58 words, not with promises, but with peace
38:00 in her eyes. "You may go," she said
38:03 gently. "Your journey is yours now. Mine
38:05 is already begun." David looked at her
38:08 one last time, at the strength she had
38:10 become, and he knew the truth. He had
38:12 lost something that life would not give
38:15 him twice. He walked away, not because
38:17 she told him to leave, but because he
38:19 finally understood he did not belong in
