Shadow of Love

Shadow of Love – Part 1: The Little Girl in Parallel Worlds

Alyna had always chased something she couldn’t name—a warmth, a safety, a gaze that lingered with affection, the feeling of being taken care of , of being loved and pampered.

But all she ever received was a shadow—yes, just a shadow—which she mistook for love.

One cold night, she stood outside her grandmother’s house, crying—loudly, uncontrollably. The door was being shut for the night.

“No! Don’t close it! You’ll all go to sleep, and my father will be outside knocking… alone!”

Her father was out of station and due back that night.

Everyone tried to console her. But in her small heart, the image of him standing outside in the dark, unheard, was unbearable. whenever he is present around, the chaos of life melted away, leaving only a world that felt safe, kind, and full of love

One day, she came home from school and found her mother sorting laundry—separating white clothes for washing. Alyna ran to one of her father’s shirts, hugged it tightly, buried her face in it.

"Do you know? My father’s sweat doesn’t smell… it has a fragrance.” Her mother smiled...Her mother, though physically present, was emotionally unavailable immature in matters of the heart. She had been fighting her own quiet battle of emotional neglect and passive abuse from her husband, trapped in a marriage where her voice didn’t matter. But she lacked the awareness to recognize the victim signs in her daughter.

Instead of offering warmth or understanding, she dismissed Alyna’s feelings with scolding, indifference, or rushed solutions. To her, emotions were distractions, not signals. It wasn’t cruelty—it was emotional deprivation, passed from one wounded woman to another.

As she grew, she watched other parents—friends’ dads, uncles, aunts even strangers—talk to their children with love. Hug them. Praise them. Laugh with them. Play with them.

Meanwhile, her own parents lived in another orbit.

Home was just a stopover—a place to eat, sleep, get washed, pressed clothes and provide utilities in return.

His real joy lived in his hobbies, his friends, relatives the outer world where his light shined.

With relatives and friends, he was the life of the party—the warm, witty, magnetic man everyone adored.

He cracked jokes, offered advice, shared memories. People laughed with him, leaned on him.

Outside the home, her mother was seen as a lucky woman—married to a charming, handsome man with a magnetic personality. People envied her. “You’re so fortunate,” they would say, “Your husband lights up every gathering. You have everything a woman could wish for.”

Little did they know, behind closed doors, her marriage was a quiet desert—emotionally dry, love-starved, and painfully silent. And while the world admired her fate, she was simply surviving it.

For Alyna at home, there was just their shadows. Something you could sense but never touch. Present, yet unreachable.

And so, she tried harder. In her Parent's eyes, Alyna tried to find her worth.

When her siblings fought, she would quietly give up her toy, food or the disputed item to keep the peace—just to win that approving nod from him.

She poured her soul into every achievement, excelling academically — not for applause, but to add one more feather to his cap, praying he'd finally see her, not just as a human being in his home but as a loving daughter, as a gem.

She didn’t realize she was slowly becoming a people-pleaser. Even when no one asked for it, she would step back, sacrifice, stay small, dim her shine.

Her siblings like everyone else around her, noticed early on how desperate Alyna was to be praised, to be seen. They weren’t innocent. They learned quickly how to manipulate her tender heart—flattering her when they needed help, guilt-tripping her into giving away her share, or painting her as the “good one” so they could quietly escape blame. She thought she was earning love. They knew she was easy to use.

In time, she began to believe this was her identity: I am the peacekeeper...'" The happiness bearer. If I am present somewhere, I must leave good memories behind—even if it means erasing myself.

when people praise me, my father will finally realize that I am a gem — a daughter he can be proud of. She found "no praise. No embrace. Just that slight tilt of the head with a faint smile, that mimic glance of approval.

Alyna often consoled herself he loved her — maybe not in words, not in embraces, but somewhere deep in his silent heart.

He wasn’t expressive, that’s what she believed… or made herself believe. "That's" how she created a parallel world for herself, inside her, giving meanings of love, acknowledgment and approval to all of her actions by her father. where she was a pampered princess and he was a king.

And then, one day… he slapped her.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t chaotic. It was cold. Deliberate. She saw anger and strangeness in his eyes like she is an unknown despicable creature. No one stood for her.

A sting on her face wasn’t visible —yet something far deeper inside her shattered. The glass walls of her palace shattered, and the sound wasn’t just loud — it echoed inside her soul.

With every falling piece, so fell the dreams she had — dreams of being loved, hopes of being seen, of being chosen.

Alyna was confused. Her father had failed to express love, yet he showed her anger and disapproval so loudly and without hesitation. There was no remorse in his eyes or on his face, and that coldness made her realize she was not a princess in his dynasty. The king was there—but she was not his princess.

The sense of security she once felt in his presence vanished completely.

A crushing wave of abandonment and the painful feeling of not belonging anywhere made her heart sink deep into silence.

Her efforts, her sacrifices, her desperate longing to be enough—they were invisible. He never noticed anything. They never noticed anything.

But strangely, that heartbreak gave her power.

She didn’t just rise from the floor—she rose from the illusion.

She decided: Now, she would do what pleases her without seeking approval or praise from others.

And that’s when he appeared.

Jay

"A tall, handsome, charismatic, witty man."

A man whose eyes seemed to see straight into her soul affectionately.

They met over something simple—a dress she was about to hand over to a friend who liked it too.

Because that’s what Alyna always did: step aside.

But Jay gently stopped her.

“No,” he said, locking eyes with her.

"You chose it first. You liked it. It’s yours. Why are you giving it to her—she didn’t even ask for it! She just said she loved it.

Learn to stand your ground for what’s rightfully yours," Jay said.

The words hit her like a revelation.

How did he see it so clearly? So instantly?

Jay’s affection painted her world in new colors. He praised her. Repeatedly. Passionately.

He’d say,

“I have never met anyone like you.”

“You carry grace like royalty.”

“You heal just by being present.”

“You make a man want to become better.”

“I look at you and wonder—how did I ever live without this most precious soul on the earth.

With every loving act, with every admiring sentence, Alyna felt her heart stretch wider.

For the first time in her life, love felt within reach.

For the first time, someone made her feel like she mattered just as she was. No more sacrifices, no more efforts to be seen, to be loved. He seemed like an answered prayer.

Part 2 will be published soon. The Echo

I hope you connected with the story—your feedback means a lot. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! 💬