Every single part of my body aches. My heart hurts. My lungs are shallow. My eyes burn. I was sitting alone in my study room. Arjun had left half an hour ago, but I still couldn't muster the courage to go out and confront Rhea. My mind was racing with thoughts. Each word of Arjun was revolving in my mind.
I couldn't figure out whether to be angry, sad, or frustrated! Everything seemed crystal clear in front of me, yet my mind didn't venture in that direction even once, and still, I couldn't understand or do anything. Rhea's condition, her panic attacks, her fear, her pain, everything was consuming my heart.
For months, I had been drowning in my own sorrow and pain! I couldn't see anything else; it felt like all the sorrow and pain were not with me but with Rhea, and I didn't even know! It dawned on me how oblivious I had been to her struggles, how consumed I was with my own world. I realised the weight of my ignorance and the depth of her silent battles. Guilt washed over me as I contemplated my role in her suffering, wishing I had been more attentive, more present, and more understanding.
For what felt like an eternity, I had been ensnared in the suffocating grip of my own anguish and despair! Blind to everything but my own pain, I failed to see the storm raging within Rhea's soul. Her struggles, her fears, her silent cries for help—they all eluded my notice as I wallowed in the depths of my own misery. Now, as the weight of my indifference crushes down upon me, I'm overwhelmed by a flood of regret and remorse.
How could I have been so blind? So deaf to her silent screams for solace?
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