He was the kind of man you don’t meet twice in one lifetime—because once is enough to break you. Vivian Singhania walked into my world like a storm disguised as salvation. He spoke in truths that felt like lies, touched like sin, and looked at me like I was something worth burning for. And I believed him. Every word. Every promise. Every illusion. Until I realized love with him was never about peace. It was about power. About obsession. About who would survive the fire first. Now the ashes are all that’s left—his name still carved somewhere between my ribs, his shadow still whispering in every silence I try to fill. I tell myself I don’t love him anymore. But every time I breathe, I remember the truth—you can escape a man, but never the version of yourself that loved him.