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Can't Let Her Go
She looked paler and considerably thinner, if that was even possible considering her already petite form. But malnourishment seemed to hardly be an issue when he took in the loss of life in her eyes.
If only he'd trusted--if only he'd just given her a chance to speak.
If only he listened. Then.
Because now, there was no one to listen to. The woman in front of him barely resembled the passionate woman who fought tooth and nail for those she loved, the vulnerable woman who wore her heart on her sleeve, the courageous woman who dared to love without any expectations in return.
He didn't deserve a love that pure, he didn't deserve her. And yet, unfortunately, he was the only one the doctors suspected could convince her to find a will to live.
She didn't eat, didn't sleep, barely spoke.
It was quite fortunate for him, that after he disgustingly tossed her out of his life--after utilizing her goodness to counteract Svetlana's ploy--she'd been rescued by the social workers that ran this hospital. She'd been here for 4 whole months until they were able to get a lead on her. To find out that apart from her mother who passed away mourning her daughter's fate, she had a husband. As undeserving as he may be.
But he too was looking for her. Ever since the day Kali Thakur's notoriety, alongside his involvement in his wife's murder made the news. Something about henchman working in his network being captured and made to confess. He remembers feeling disgusted, but more so with himself. He could care less for the obvious faults in the character of that monster yet dared compare a woman who only asked so much as to be heard by him to a wh**e.
He looked at her sleeping form, tears failing to fully convey the extent regret. He noticed though, with something of a nostalgic smile forming beneath his swollen eyes that she still slept with her hands neatly tucked under her chin. Something very oddly feminine he always took note of when she used lay beside him as Chulbul.
He loved her.
It wasn't a sudden realization, just a painstakingly late one.
That night, for perhaps the first time in what felt like ages, Omkara let his hair loose. Laying his weary head down onto the edge of her pillow, he claimed one of her hands as his, bringing it to his lips.
"You didn't deserve this," he whispered entwining her hand further in his tousled hair, now beckoning her wrist to his mouth, "I'm sorry," he wept kissing along her frail trail, finally resting his head above her heart--a place he promised he'll one day earn back.
"You didn't deserve this," he whispered entwining her hand further in his tousled hair, now beckoning her wrist to his mouth, "I'm sorry," he wept kissing along her frail trail, finally resting his head above her heart--a place he promised he'll one day earn back.
"I'm so, so sorry."
***
I'm considering a Part 2, do let me know if you'd like to see this narrative continue. I just like the idea of a remorseful, overtly in love and enamored by his wife Omkara so I penned this down. Let me know what you thought,
-A
Parineeti
Chakravarti Samrat Prithviraj Chauhan
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