He Never Loved Me, Only Owed Me / Chapter 4: Breaking Point
He Never Loved Me, Only Owed Me

He Never Loved Me, Only Owed Me

Author: Tanya Sharma


Chapter 4: Breaking Point

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When I started college, I began to care about my looks and figure.

I stopped eating parathas for breakfast, traded them for oats. I started running every morning, chasing a version of myself I hoped Arjun would finally see. That’s when my relationship with Arjun truly changed.

Maybe he remembered what I’d done for him. Maybe the lighting that night was too ambiguous.

We were at a friend’s birthday party, the fairy lights making everyone look softer, braver. He suddenly grabbed my hand and asked, "Do you still like me?"

I was so nervous I couldn’t even look at him.

He cupped my neck, lowered his head, and kissed me.

That was my first kiss.

He tasted faintly of mint.

The day we made our relationship official, Arjun took me to Aunty Radha.

"We’re together now."

At that moment, he seemed more relaxed than ever, as if a stone had finally dropped from his heart.

Looking back, I finally understand—what I thought was sincerity was just him repaying a debt.

When I arrived, Arjun was playing pool with Kunal.

The room smelled of cold coffee and cigarette smoke. His face was cold as frost, silent.

Kunal, as usual, fanned the flames: "Meera’s back. Why don’t you just break up with her?"

He said it so loudly even the cook in the next room paused his chopping. "You really can’t let go?"

"Hey, I still remember the first time I saw her—so much weight, and she came with that teddy bear, haan! Fatso!"

Arjun’s eyes flashed, jaw tightening. "Aren’t you annoying!" Arjun slammed down the cue, about to say something, when the door opened from outside.

Everyone froze.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Arjun panicked for a moment, but seeing me as usual, he calmed down.

I handed him the folder. "What you wanted."

"Thanks." He paused, wanting to explain, but then he saw me hand over the diary.

"Was it fun?"

My voice broke, the pain raw and exposed. I couldn’t hold back my tears, my voice hoarse. "Was it fun, Arjun?"

I threw the diary at him, hard.

The diary landed with a dull thud. He didn’t move, his eyes flustered again, as if wanting to reach for my shoulder.

Kunal stepped forward and shoved me. "Are you mad or what!"

I slapped him so hard my palm stung, but I didn’t care. Years of humiliation poured out in that one slap. "I’m talking to him. Why are you butting in!"

"All these years, you’ve never given me a break—‘fatso,’ ‘ugly girl’—aren’t you tired of saying those words? Because I’m sick of hearing them."

My voice rose, echoing down the hallway. "What, I’m a weightlifter. Is gaining weight for my career something to be ashamed of?"

My chest heaved, years of frustration spilling out. "Who are you to look down on me? My parents never criticised my weight or my looks. Who the hell are you to judge?"

I glared at Kunal, daring him to speak again. "You’re like a piece of fevicol that won’t come off. People might think you’re obsessed with me, that’s why you cling like a dog."

A tiny voice inside me almost felt sorry for him. I was furious, my eyes red. Kunal froze, speechless.

Arjun tried to pull me into his arms. "Sneha, calm down."

His touch made my skin crawl. "I’m calm enough." I shoved him away, picked the diary up off the floor, and thrust it at him.

The more I looked, the paler Arjun’s face became. He mumbled, "Let me explain."

"Let’s break up." I smiled, glaring at him. "Really... just thinking about it makes me sick."

I turned and walked out without looking back.

The sound of my sandals echoed in the corridor. Arjun tried to chase after me. I stopped him again.

"If you come after me, do you really want to marry me?"

He stood there, mouth open, but no words came. The silence between us was louder than any fight.

He watched as I walked away, step by step, until I finally disappeared from his sight.

The world outside was still spinning, horns honking in the distance, life going on as if nothing had happened. But for me, everything had changed. The story I’d written for myself—of love, sacrifice, hope—had finally come to an end, and all that remained was the weight I could no longer carry, finally slipping from my shoulders.

For the first time, I felt light. Maybe tomorrow, I’d learn how to breathe again.

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