40. The Hardest Decision

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I turned my head and looked at him. Ashar was sitting behind me with quizzical face, waiting for me to answer his query.

"You really don't know what love is?"

"I have a vague idea, but I don't know how to find out if you're in love or not."

I let out a deep sigh and sat up on my bed, putting the heating pad behind, pressing it against my back. "Love is insanity. It hurts you, traps you, breaks you, but, still the stubborn heart never wants to give up."

I thought for fraction of seconds of appropriate words. He remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

I whispered, "Your heart chooses that person, whether you like it or not in its own way and own time."

I paused, recalling the words of the counselor I met at foster home, "You think of her when she's not near you. You even think of her when she's around you. You never get tired of talking or spending time with her."

The counselor at my foster home said the same things when I asked her about love. Her description was so good that I couldn't forget it. 

"It seems like obsession." He commented.

"Obsession doesn't contain emotion, but, love does." I explained, "When a person's mere smile makes your heart flutter, especially if it's because of you. You observe her more closely, like; how she walks, sit or sleep. You notice even the tiny details about her. Like, she bites her nails every time she's nervous or may be anything." I shrugged, couldn't think of other examples.

I continued, "You leave your favorite things somewhere behind because her favourite color is now your new favorite color. Her favorite food becomes your new favourite. Her happiness is now your happiness. You put aside all your likes and give importance to hers because it makes you happy."

His eyes gleamed as they studied my face, "That's deep."

My heart sank at my own words, remembering that I was willing to give the same love to him. I was willing to get lost into him and mingle my entire self into his existence. I had never loved anyone all my life, except my foster mother and now the clueless man, who was sitting beside me.

A sound of fireworks reached to my ears. He checked the time from his wrist watch and I check it from the wall-clock. The clock struck twelve.

The New Year began.

The faint sound of people's laugh and applaud was loud enough that I heard them from my room.

"It's 12. Happy New Year." Ashar said nervously.

"Hmm." I hummed, not wishing him back.

I had zero excitement for the New Year.

"I...I.." He moved his hand in his hair, stuttering. He seemed uneasy.

"The kind of love you described to me just now. If I think about it, I guess....I don't love Samara in that way." He said hesitantly.

"Okay." I responded lowly, "Take care of my baby, Ashar. I'm not going to force you to keep me, but, never mistreat my kid. He's only fault is that I'm his mother."

He furrowed his brow in confusion, "You're talking like as if you're going somewhere."

I avoided his gaze as I felt scared that he would see the truth on my face.

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