Novels by Neha M

As we walked into that house that night, my brain would still glisten with the words spewed by Seth. All that weight, all that heaviness - Noah and those lies, manipulation, twisted web which life has become. My chest felt like it was stuck in some heavy fog, where nothing could be distinguished clearly, nothing trusted as what was thought to be known. Even Seth, the man who had been there for me, seemed at a distance somehow. The puzzle he'd given me, it seemed, was not pieced back together either; no matter how very hard I tried, those pieces wouldn't mesh.Seth treated me gently when he brought me home, like fragile glass that might break if one breathed too hard on it. And in his eyes, I saw the worry, the sadness, the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the night that might change things between us. I had seen him trying everything to make me feel special, make me smile, and a part of me wanted to give him what he so desperately needed: a sign that I was coming back to him. Tha

I thought Seth was taking a leave from work for spending the day with me, which rather seemed to be a sweet gesture, but deep inside, upset me. We had been so tensed against each other lately without either of us being able fully to articulate what was nagging; it would always hang there in mid-air like an invisible barrier. While I would have liked to dissuade him from leaving, at the same time, I could not reject him. Seth had tried hard to make things be normal by bending over backward and doing all in his power; the least I could do was try to meet him halfway.We went out to a great little restaurant. It had a warm, cozy atmosphere. The low illuminations were rich in earth tones. After all, there isn't a setting more perfect for anyone who ever wanted to feel at ease. Couples were scattered all over the room, some laughing, some whispering low over glasses of wine, and it was one of those scenes-the kind of atmosphere which usually lulled me into a state of peace, but tonight mad

That's exactly what I thought: when I came back home, I had a feeling that something was different in the space. It wasn't the space that changed; no, everything was in place as it was meant to be: Seth's coat was slumped over the back of the chair by the door, his tea from the morning was still sitting on the kitchen counter, and the soft hum of the refrigerator resonated through the quiet space. Yet something inside me had shifted, and it was unsettling. I kept playing back the conversation with Noah over and over in my head like a broken record that refused to turn off.I tried to shake it, focus on anything else. I glanced up at the photos on the mantle. Images of Seth and me together-smiling, happy, like a couple deep in love. But those pictures belonged to a life that just didn't fit anymore. I looked at one for a long time, willing myself to feel something, to remember the love that Seth swore we'd shared.But all that flashed through my mind was Noah. His words, the way he loo

I don't really recall much of anything anymore. Faces, voices, they all seem to blend together, flickering shadows at the corners of my mind. Every day was like a puzzle missing too many pieces, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never really fit it together.That day, I was wandering. I had gotten out of the house without having said anything to Seth, though I wasn't totally sure why. I knew he was trying to be kind to me. Patient and gentle, he was, trying always to help me remember who he said I used to be. But no matter how hard he tried, I couldn't find anything inside of me that felt real from the stories he told. There wasn't a spark of recognition-no emotion, no feeling of home-when I looked at him. And the worst part? He kept on saying we loved each other. Loved. The word sounded foreign, hollow, almost amusing.How could I ever have loved a person that I couldn't even recognize? He's lying, I thought. Or mistaken. Maybe this was some grand, tragic misunderstanding; mayb

I never know where it started, but somewhere in the pain and in the darkness, I lost myself.It was just pain at first: the pain of losing a baby that lacerated my chest and made it hard to breathe. It was like they took a part of me-a part that would never be returned. Every breath I took was a reminder of the child I would never hold, the life I would never nurture. It felt like the world had grayed, and no matter how hard Seth tried to comfort me, I couldn't find my way back to color.Days passed. Weeks, maybe. I'm not even sure anymore. It's all such a blur, one endless stretch of numbness. Mornings, I woke up and didn't know where I was. The walls that enclosed me felt unfamiliar-the bed beneath me, too cold. I didn't know how I'd gotten there or why I should care. I didn't even feel like the same person anymore. Whoever I had been-the woman who had carried a child, who had fought so hard to survive-was gone. In her place, someone hollow, someone I didn't know.I forgot simple thi

The excitement had been building inside me for weeks. My due date was fast approaching, and every flutter, every small kick in my belly reminded me of the little life I would soon hold in my arms. I could hardly believe it—the journey from fear and uncertainty to hope and joy. Seth and I had been so careful, so deliberate in our new life, making sure that every decision we made was to create the best future for our child. But today, in my rush of excitement, I made a mistake.I wanted to do something special—something just for me and the baby. Seth had been working from home that day, caught up in a call with a new client, and I had this sudden urge to get out of the house. I decided to visit the nearest market, to pick out some clothes for the baby. We had been meaning to go shopping together, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The idea of buying tiny onesies and blankets filled me with a kind of joy I hadn’t felt in so long. I wanted to savor this moment, just me and my soon-to-be-born