She wept for the moments that she and Rishi would never have. She wept for the love that had just blossomed and would never ripen. She wept for how mean she’d been, the names she’d called him. She wept for her hardheadedness, and for a world that couldn’t just let her be both, a woman in love and a woman with a career, without flares of guilt and self-doubt seeping in and wreaking havoc. No one she knew had balanced both. There was either work or love. Wanting both felt like a huge ask; it felt like wishing for hot ice cream or a bitter sugar cube. And so she’d pushed Rishi away. She’d broken
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