Chapter 158

Dear readers and Comrades, the love you give me cannot be measured, cannot be justifiably thanked in return.

Amira: Amira dear! Thank you so much for expressing your ready emotions after reading the chapter and I confess, I was really thrilled to be sharing it to you too! You are a very faithful reader and lover of this little tale.

Uttara: You are a new reader, I see. Thank you for stopping by and I am really honoured that you feel yourself reliving ipkknd in magical way through this story.

Yush: Long time no see! How are you, dear? Thank you dear for your loving words of admiration!

Varshapan: Varsha, glad to hear that you loved the chapter. And my! Please do focus on your work and not let this tale tarnish your time!

Rockingsoni: Sweet of you to think words would spoil the spell. I am happy you loved the special line in the chapter as well. Did you feel it rhyme?

Saomom: Hope you were happy that you didn't have to drag your patience onto Saturday coz I updated on Friday!

Sarikaa: My dear! I am so overwhelmed by your choice of song!! Bryan Adams Here I Am! The beauty and power in that music is sheer brilliance! Have you watched Spirit?

Vidya: Congrats for the making it first! Especially after I didn't PM the chapter, you really deserve the credit! Hope you are doing well in life, vidya.

Siamesecat: Your excitement vividly visible in your comment made me want to jump around in thrill!! Thank you dear!

Mehreen: Glad you loved the chapter, dear. Its touching the way you admire my way with words.

Sarah: My dear!! You make me so happy I could hug till you turned blue-black! *wink*

anjs, Smartgirl, Rabiabegum, samarablog, vaishiksg, Angel, Bhavnassen, mpuhan and all the other readers who commented and liked: I am always so happy to have all of you to share this story with and so very glad that you loved the chapter!

The following chapter is dedicated to two dear friends and Comrades: Hoopoe and Shas, who in my last month's absence kept the tale and this thread fired up and alive with discussions. Their persistent interpretations into the story make this tale veil itself in a grandeur it does not quite deserve but, through which, the Storyteller resurrects her esteem.

On behalf of all my readers and Comrades, to the sincere love of Shas and the ardent trust of Hoopoe, I dedicate this chapter.

A note before I commence the narration: You may have all loved "Perfect" with ArShi in it. But my "Perfect" is not perfect until my favourite one features in it!

Chapter 237: What Transpired After the Midnight Meet

The sound of childish laughter rang in the sunlit air and the birds chirped along with it.

Lady Anjali, dressed in a dazzling gown, her hair tied up in a motherly bun sat on a swing that was decorated with red roses. In her arms was a soft white bundle that she fondled and into which she gazed lovingly, murmuring sweet words of affection.

Just then she heard the sound of stiff boots walking over grass and, looking up, found her dashing husband, looking as handsome as ever, walking towards her with a kind smile, his firm steps eager to reach her.

She rose from the swing and stepped forward.

He came to a stop before her and, in greeting, kissed her lightly on her lips.

She beamed at him and then at the little child in her arms.

She held out the soft bundle to him and, after a reluctant moment, he lifted his hands to receive the bundle, but as she was about to place it in his hands, the white cloth, that concealed the child, fell open and, instead of a child, there was a dark stain of red blood on it that spread astride to all corners of the cloth.

Dropping the reddening cloth in alarm, she stared at her husband in disbelief, wanting him to assure her that she was only imagining it, but her heart sank when she saw his expression.

He was staring at her face, horror-stricken by something he was seeing on it.

Fearfully, she brushed her trembling fingers on her cheeks upon which were the tears that ran endlessly from her eyes but when she looked down at her fingers, she saw that her tears were red. As red as the bloodied cloth that lay sprawled at their feet...

With a start, Lady Anjali awoke.

Wincing, she laid a hand on her womb as pain seared her insides, weakening her.

Be still, my child, be still. She took deep breaths as she assured her unborn child. It is alright. Mother's here. It was just a bad dream...

It was then that she realized there were tears on her cheeks, shed while enduring her disturbed sleep.

Terrified, her trembling hands touched the moist stream on her face.

The moonlight, from the wide window over the bed, glistened on the colourless wetness on the tips of her fingers and a sigh of relief escaped her lips.

But she was still quivering with fear for the dream had felt too real for her weak heart.

Seeking assurance, she looked to her side only to find it empty of her husband.

She was worried. Where has he gone?

With great effort, she struggled to rise from the bed.

The air felt cold, despite her wearing a long-sleeved night gown. Picking up a spare robe, she draped it around herself and stepped towards the door.

She had barely made it out into the hallway, when she caught the sound of music wafting from the other end of the Castle.

Her heart sank. His soul is crying again.

The walk to the ballroom seemed to have distanced longer than it had been last month.

On reaching the huge doors, Lady Anjali pushed them open and stepped into the ballroom, only to halt in bewilderment.

The entire room spoke of his pain and his silent struggle to win over his dark side.

Despite the huge room being dim with no candles lit, the tall windows along one side of the wall were open, the curtains blowing wildly in the breeze from outside. The moonlight shining into the room fell upon the pianoforte before which sat her husband, playing at the melancholic keys that mourned their melody.

Lady Anjali pressed a hand to her heart for it pained her to see her husband in the state he was: dishevelled and tired, naked and alone, playing his song as though he knew not how else to cry.

When you're caught in a lie and you've got nothing to hide
When you've got nowhere to run and you've got nothing inside
It tears right through me, you thought that you knew me
You thought that you knew

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying
'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start
I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave
Was it something I said or just my personality?

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying
'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start
I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave
Was it something I said or just myself?

Tears flowed down Lady's Anjali's pale cheeks as she ambled towards him.

The wearied General looked up.

His fingers paused, silencing the song forever, and he arose, the moonlight gleaming down his naked form.

His slow steps towards his approaching wife brought them together.

She slid her spare robe off her shoulders and, lifting it, draped it around him, the long sleeves of the robe hanging slack on the sides, both his arms not having the heart to lift themselves into the secure warmth of the sleeves.

Lady Anjali wrapped her arms around her husband's middle and pressed her cheek against his cold chest.

His hands slid around her shoulders and held himself close to her.

"Does it pain?" she whispered.

"Always," his rough voice mumbled, "But tonight, it's worse."

Holding him in her embrace, her hand gently caressed his back, "It's alright, my love, once you sleep and rise to the next morning, you won't remember the pain."

The General sighed, "Come morning, come night; Remains the pain, ever a blight."

She looked up at him, "It is not a disease."

"It is a curse, my Lady Queen. A curse that diseases every element of my existence..."

"Don't say so, my love," Lady Anjali's eyes filled with tears.

The General sighed, his heart weighed heavy, "I am tired. Let us go to bed and talk no more."

"If that is what you want," mumbled Lady Anjali as they withdrew from their embrace and headed towards the door.

Lady Anjali slid her hand into his as they walked and she almost gasped when she sensed the faint quivering of his veins in his fingers. Is he feeling cold or is it because he was fighting? Or is there another reason...?

She wanted so much to tell him about her horrible dream, a lingering terror which was slow to fade, but she didn't have the heart to upset him when he was already in a lot of pain...

Once again, You must listen to the song by Hedley and feel the feels. When the General plays it, I wanted it to feel like one of Lindsey Sterling's creations but, alas, there was no such version to be found. However, this one link does provide the closest aura I was intending for the chapter:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KL5RP4Ex7U8