Choco Teddy Breaks

The package arrived in the afternoon. Wrapped neatly, the corners tucked in with the kind of care that wasn’t hurried. It was from her—chocolates from my favorite bakery. A small, thoughtful gesture, nothing grand, nothing extravagant. But it was enough to make my heart falter.

I ran my fingers along the ribbon before opening it, letting the weight of the moment settle. I had told myself a thousand times—I love her, not for what she could be to me, but for what she is. I had promised myself that my love was free of expectations, that it did not ask for anything in return.

But today, as I looked at the chocolates, something twisted inside me.

A voice—one I had buried deep—whispered, What happens when she sends a box like this to someone else? When she carefully selects flavors for another person?

I shook my head. No. I knew her. She had never lied to me. Never given me false hope. Never asked for this love. It was mine, my burden, my blessing.

I picked up my phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"Thank you. This means a lot."

Simple. Safe.

Her reply came almost instantly. "I knew you'd like it. Happy Valentine's Day."

I stared at the screen, my mind slipping back to an old conversation.

"I want to protect you," she had once said. "I don't want you to get hurt later, not even a little."

"Mennu tera bhana meetha laage," I had told her back then, smiling. "Whatever you do, I love it."

And I had meant it. I still did.

But today… today, I wasn’t sure if my heart was strong enough to bear it.

I leaned back, closing my eyes.

I had always known this love was one-sided. That was never the problem.

The problem was realizing that, someday, she might love someone else.

And I wouldn't know what to do with all this love that had nowhere to go.

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x

I placed the chocolates on the table and took a deep breath, shaking off the weight pressing against my ribs. Not today, I told myself. You knew this would happen. You prepared for it.

The phone buzzed again.

"Did you eat them yet?"

She knew me too well. Knew that I would sit there, staring at them, overthinking. I smiled at the message, shaking my head.

"Not yet. Should I?" I typed back.

"Of course. They're your favorite, aren’t they?"

I unwrapped one, letting the dark chocolate melt on my tongue, waiting for it to taste the same as it always did. But something was different. It wasn't the chocolate. It was me.

I had built a world where I loved her in silence, without demand. And I had been content. But suddenly, I wasn't. Suddenly, I imagined a day when she would introduce someone else, when she would laugh while buying chocolates for someone else, and the thought made the sweetness taste bitter.

The phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. Her name flashed on the screen.

I answered. "So impatient? Couldn’t wait for my review?"

She chuckled. "You take forever to reply, and I was curious. Did you like them?"

"They're perfect," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I'm glad," she said. "I was worried about the packaging. The bakery messed up the last time I ordered something."

She was talking about the details, about the effort she had put in. And for a moment, I let myself believe that this love was enough.

But then, she said something that made my fingers tighten around the phone.

"Oh, by the way, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I said, exhaling slowly.

She hesitated for a second. "You remember that guy I mentioned before? The one from work?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

"He… uh… asked me out. And I don’t know what to do."

Silence.

I felt it before I could think it—the sharp sting in my chest, the weight of everything I had ignored crashing down on me at once.

I had known this day would come. I had prepared for it. I had told myself it wouldn’t matter.

But it did.

It did.

And suddenly, those chocolates, that neatly wrapped package, didn’t feel like a small, thoughtful gesture anymore. It felt like a farewell gift.

I forced a chuckle. "I don't see the problem. If you like him, say yes."

She was quiet. "But what if—" She paused, choosing her words. "What if it changes things between us?"

There it was.

The one thread of hope I had left.

That maybe, just maybe, I was something more than a friend to her.

That maybe she hadn't figured it out yet.

I wanted to ask. I wanted to push.

But I had spent too many years pretending. Pretending that it didn’t hurt when she called me her best friend. Pretending that I didn’t wonder what it would be like if she loved me back. Pretending that I was okay with just this.

So I did what I always did.

I feigned ignorance.

I smiled through the pain.

"You’re overthinking," I said lightly. "Nothing will change."

"Promise?" she asked, her voice softer now.

"Promise."

That night, I sat with the chocolates, eating them slowly, forcing myself to taste every bite, forcing myself to remember why I had loved them in the first place.

I picked up my phone again, my fingers typing before I could stop myself.

"Mennu tera bhana meetha laage."

Whatever you do, I love it.

Even if it breaks me.