one sided love

Summary: Loving Kabir was like throwing a party and being the only guest who knew there was one. For two years, Arjun showed up with grand gestures and poetic declarations, only to receive polite smiles and perfectly timed exits. This is a story of heartbreak served with a side of sarcasm—because sometimes, the only way to survive unrequited love is to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

The first time Arjun saw Kabir, the universe apparently ran out of dramatic music.

It happened at a café. Kabir was laughing at something on his phone, sunlight catching the curve of his jaw, and Arjun—spilling his cold brew down his own shirt—thought: Well. This is going to be a disaster.

He was right. He just didn't know how hilariously right.

The poetry phase lasted three months. Arjun, who hadn't written anything since a school assignment on mangoes, suddenly discovered a hidden talent for rhyming "your eyes" with "endless skies." He left verses in Kabir's desk drawer at work. Slid them under his apartment door. Once, he mailed one with a stamp, like a Victorian gentleman who had time traveled into chaos.

I wrote poetry for your beautiful smile.

Kabir's reply arrived via text: "Hey thanks! That's really sweet. Anyway, about the TPS reports..."

You replied with a polite "thank you."

Arjun should have stopped. Anyone with basic self-preservation would have stopped. But the heart, as they say, is an idiot with good intentions.

The grand gesture phase began at Diwali.

Arjun spent two weeks planning. Firecrackers (the quiet ones, because Kabir mentioned once he didn't like loud noise). Fairy lights arranged to spell something romantic but not creepy. A small speech memorized, rehearsed, delivered to his bathroom mirror so many times the glass fogged up.

My heart prepared fireworks for your arrival.

Kabir arrived twenty minutes late. He looked around the rooftop, at the lights, at Arjun standing there like a nervous game show host.

"Oh wow," Kabir said. "This is beautiful. Who's the party for?"

You came… like a guest who forgot the host.

He stayed for exactly one plate of food, made polite conversation about office politics, and left at 9:47 PM because he had "an early thing." No mention of the lights. No question about the speech Arjun had swallowed back down like bad medicine.

Still I admire your effortless power.

Because here was the thing: Kabir wasn't cruel. He wasn't leading anyone on. He simply existed, radiant and oblivious, breaking hearts without even trying. Like a tornado that didn't notice the houses it flattened.

You broke hearts without even trying.

Arjun's friends staged interventions.

"Block him."

"Date someone else."

"Have some self-respect, bhai."

He tried. He really did. He went on dates arranged by well-meaning aunties. He downloaded apps. He swiped. He matched. He had conversations that went nowhere because the whole time, he was comparing everyone to sunlight on a jawline and laughs that sounded like home.

The turning point came on a Tuesday.

Kabir walked into the breakroom while Arjun was making tea. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the way people do when one of them hasn't realized they're the center of someone's universe.

"You know," Kabir said suddenly, "you're a really good friend. I don't say that enough."

Friend.

The word landed like a polite slap. Arjun smiled, because what else was there to do? "Thanks. You're not terrible yourself."

Kabir laughed. Exited. Left Arjun holding two cups of tea he hadn't actually wanted.

That night, Arjun sat with his notebook. The one full of unsent poems and half-finished declarations. He read through them, cringing and laughing in equal measure.

Then he wrote one last entry.

Dear Kabir,

I loved you like a one-man audience clapping in an empty theater.

You were the show.

I was the fool who forgot the tickets weren't for sale.

He closed the notebook. Opened a dating app. Swiped right on someone whose profile read: "Will send you poems, but only if you promise to actually show up."

It wasn't moving on. Not yet.

But it was, at least, finally facing the stage.

#OneSidedLove #HeartbreakWithHumor #UnrequitedSarcasm #PoliteDisaster #StillAdmireYourPower #FoolOnTheRoof #ShortStory#usmanwrites