Written by I don’t know My story may be common to many but I can say that Loving is not simple but living with the consequesces plays a major role.
I am in my early thirties, unmarried, and tired in a way rest doesn’t fix.
I’ve been with Arjun almost eight years now, the same person since college my college days
Arjun is calm in ways I am not.
I am short-tempered, emotional, loud when hurt.
He is patient, quiet, steady.
No matter how ugly our fights got, he never walked away.
He never let me sleep upset.
Somehow, I was always his priority — before friends, before comfort, before himself.
When I lost a parent, he stood beside me like grief was his responsibility too.
He respected my family, supported me silently, and never made my pain feel inconvenient.
For years, I believed love was enough.
Then marriage talks happened.
And everything cracked open.
When my family spoke to his parents, what we saw shocked us.
Disrespect. Lies. A hunger for control and money masked as pride.
My conversation with him once, changed how I saw the future.
His mother spoke to me. I cannot forget the way of talking, in a way no one ever had.
His father stayed silent.
I tried to explain everything to Arjun, but in answer I got that, I was overthinking.
My family told him exactly what happened, on the next morning, when he finally saw it.
And for the first time, he fought his parents and more clearly for me.
But damage doesn’t disappear just because someone defends you later.
His family struggles financially. Mine doesn’t.
That difference has turned our love into suspicion.
They don’t have stability, yet they carry entitlement.
They look at us with resentment, not gratitude.
Even their relatives watch us with greedy eyes.
My own relatives aren’t saints either.
They’re toxic in quieter ways.
Arjun is nothing like his parents — and that’s the cruelest irony.
They emotionally drained him, took loans in his name, damaged his financial record, and never once checked if he was okay.
When he had opportunities, they clipped his wings.
They feared losing control more than losing his future.
Now, they favour his brother because he earns more.
Arjun gets neglect and guilt in return.
Still, he loves them.
And that scares me.
He says he’s ready to leave that house, build a life with me, live independently.
He’s trying — genuinely trying — to grow, to earn, to become stable.
But time doesn’t wait.
My family sees his love.
They also see reality.
They ask the questions I’m afraid to answer:
What happens if he can’t stand on his own?
What if emotional blackmail pulls him back?
What if love turns into dependency?
I love him.
I know he loves me.
But love doesn’t erase responsibility.
And choosing someone doesn’t mean ignoring the future.
I’m not scared of struggle.
I’m scared of regret.
And I don’t know which choice leads to peace.