Love Story from Shanti.He touched my chin and lifted my gaze when I tried to hide the truth behind a smile. “Don’t be brave with me,” he whispered. “Be real.” I exhaled, and something inside me surrendered. We kissed in the calm of a quiet room, and I felt seen, not watched; held, not owned. It was the gentlest intimacy I had ever known. But gentle men are often here only to heal, not to stay. When he left, he kissed my forehead instead of my lips. I still don’t know what hurt more — loving him, or losing the softness he brought.