The air was thick with humidity as Malar walked through the bustling streets of Chennai. The city had become her battleground—a place where she fought not just for survival, but for her very identity. The months had passed in a blur, each day bringing her closer to the woman she had always known she was meant to be. But there were still scars, wounds that had yet to heal.
Her breasts, now fuller from the surgery, still felt foreign. Every time she touched them, she was reminded of the price she had paid. The money, the painful procedures, the endless nights of doubt and fear. But she would never go back. Not now. Not after everything she had sacrificed.
Valli had been with her every step of the way, supporting her in ways that Malar hadn’t believed were possible. Yet, there was always that quiet fear in the back of her mind—that Valli might see her as a mistake. That she might see the scars that still marked her soul and decide she wasn’t worth it.
But Valli’s love was real. Or at least, that’s what Malar wanted to believe.
They met in the same small tea shop they had once shared their first kiss. It was quieter today, the clinking of cups drowned out by the steady hum of the fan above. Valli sat at the same table by the window, her sari a deep blue that shimmered with the faintest hint of gold.
She looked different today—distant, lost in thought. Her eyes, once full of fire when they met Malar’s, now seemed clouded.
Malar sat across from her, her hands trembling as she reached for the cup of chai that had been placed before her.
“Valli,” Malar began, her voice low, careful. “Are we okay?”
Valli didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she picked up her cup, staring at the swirling liquid inside, as if she were searching for something within it.
“I don’t know anymore,” Valli said finally, her voice tinged with an emotion Malar couldn’t place.
The words hit Malar like a slap, stinging her chest. She tried to keep her composure, but she could feel the tears building behind her eyes.
“I don’t know what to do either,” Malar admitted. “I don’t know how to be what you need. I’m... I’m still me, Valli. I’m still broken.”
Valli’s gaze softened, but her voice was still distant. “You’re not broken. But you’re carrying too much weight. Too much fear. It’s not just about your body, Malar. It’s about the choices you’ve made, the things you’ve had to do to get here. And it’s about me—about what I’m willing to give.”
Malar felt her stomach tighten. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t promise you forever, Malar,” Valli said, her voice trembling now. “I can’t promise that I can be everything you need. But I can be here now. And I can help you with the things you can’t do alone.”
Malar’s heart pounded. “I don’t want your pity,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence between them.
Valli reached across the table, taking Malar’s hand. “It’s not pity. It’s love. It’s real. But I need you to understand that I’m not perfect. I have my own battles, my own scars.”
Malar withdrew her hand, pulling it back into her lap. “Then what are we doing here, Valli?” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can keep living like this.”
The words were out before she could stop them. They were raw, desperate, and they left her feeling exposed. She had never wanted to admit this—to Valli, to herself. But she couldn’t hide it any longer. She couldn’t keep pretending that she had it all together when she was falling apart inside.
Valli stared at her, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, the world between them seemed to pause, the noise of the city outside swallowed by the weight of the silence.
“I’m sorry, Malar,” Valli whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make it better.”
Malar wanted to scream, wanted to shout at the unfairness of it all. But instead, she sat there, numb, staring at Valli as the tears finally came.
“I don’t want to be alone, Valli,” Malar whispered through her sobs. “I don’t want to be this thing anymore. I don’t want to be just someone’s secret. I want to be whole.”
That night, Malar returned to the shelter in a daze. She didn’t speak to anyone, just went straight to her room, closing the door behind her. The world felt suffocating, the air thick with grief and confusion.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with everything Valli had said. The truth was, she wasn’t just scared of losing Valli. She was scared of losing herself—of becoming something she didn’t recognize. Someone who used her body as currency, someone who could never be truly loved.
The loneliness crept in like an old friend, familiar and bitter.
Roja came to find her later that night, knocking softly on her door. When Malar didn’t answer, she entered anyway, sitting beside her on the bed.
“Malar,” she said quietly, her voice soft but firm. “I know you’re in pain. But you’re not alone. You never were.”
Malar didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. But Roja’s presence was a balm, even if just for a moment.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Roja continued, her fingers gently brushing Malar’s hair. “You’ve already been through the fire. And you’re still standing. You’ll get through this. But you have to make the choice to heal. You have to let go of the past, Malar. Let go of the guilt, the shame. The world will always try to take pieces of you. But it’s up to you to decide what stays and what goes.”
Malar looked at Roja, her heart heavy with the weight of those words. It was time to stop running. Time to stop hiding behind the fear, behind the sex work, behind the false hope that things could be different if only Valli loved her more.
“I need to fix me first,” Malar whispered, the words heavy but freeing. “I need to be whole again. For myself.”
The next few days were a blur of soul-searching and painful decisions. Malar stepped away from Valli, giving herself the space she needed to breathe, to heal. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t clean. But it was real.
In the quiet of the shelter, surrounded by the love of her sisters, Malar began to realize something she had been denying for too long. She didn’t need Valli to complete her. She didn’t need anyone to complete her.
She was already whole.
And with that realization, Malar began the long road to reclaiming her own power.