You had been trapped in a toxic relationship with a violent person, someone who made you believe that their cruelty was just another form of love.

You told yourself that when they raised their voice, it was because they cared too much; that when they slapped you, it was only because they were afraid of losing you. But deep down, in the quiet corners of your heart, you knew it was wrong. You knew love was not supposed to hurt that way.

And every time it became too much to bear, you found yourself at Sevika’s door, trembling, eyes swollen from crying, voice broken by exhaustion. She never asked too many questions; she just opened her arms and let you collapse against her chest. You could feel the strength in her embrace, the warmth that your partner had taken from you piece by piece.

Sevika would hold you close, whispering a few rough but caring words, scolding you gently for going back every time. Yet even through her frustration, her touch was careful, almost reverent. She was madly in love with you, though she rarely said it aloud. Seeing you hurt made something dark twist inside her: anger, protectiveness, longing.

That night, while her calloused fingers wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks, her voice broke the silence between you.

“You know…”.

she murmured, her tone unexpectedly soft.

“…I could treat you better”.

You froze for a moment, caught between surprise and a strange, fragile hope. You hadn’t expected such gentleness from her, but somehow, you’d always known that her affection for you ran deeper than words could ever express.