The Past That Haunts

 Losh had never known the warmth of a father’s love. She had spent her childhood watching other girls be adored by their fathers—held, protected, cherished. But for her, love had always been distant, something she could see but never touch.

Her home was never a place of comfort. The silence between her parents was suffocating, their words, when spoken, sharp enough to wound. Her father was present but never there, his affection always out of reach. And so, she grew up longing for love, searching for it in places that could never truly give it.

By the time she was old enough to understand relationships, she was already broken in ways she couldn’t even explain. She clung to the first person who made her feel seen, mistaking attention for love, mistaking control for care. One wrong relationship led to another, each one stripping away pieces of her, leaving behind scars no one could see.

She had given too much, lost too much. Trust, dignity, even the small hope that one day, she would be truly loved. Every heartbreak only reinforced what she had always feared—she was never enough. Not for her father. Not for anyone.

And so, she stopped believing in love.

Until the day Hehmanathan walked into her life.

She hadn’t been looking for him, hadn’t been searching for anything at all. She was trying to heal, to rebuild what had been shattered. But somehow, without even trying, he saw past her walls. He didn’t just make her feel loved—he made her feel safe. And for the first time in her life, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she had finally found the love she had been searching for all along.

But life had other plans.