Posted:
After effects of skimming trough ADHM
ShraMan OS: Breaking Free
Suman Tiwari tossed and turned around restlessly on her bed, in her room, in Tiwari Villa. Everyone had retrieved to bed - it had been a long and tiring day. But, she laid wide awake, her senses had adjusted to the dark and to the incessant tick-tock of the clock near her bed side table as the pendulum swings one way to another. Her mind is a jumble of messed thoughts.
She changed sides every five minutes, not knowing how to sooth the restlessness that seemed to capture every nerve of her mind, it didn't let her have a moment of respite for herself and yet she was careful not to mess up the mehndi Aditya had forcefully carved over her palm - it hadn't dried yet.
She raised both of her hands in front of her. In the dim light the moon offered through the open window of her room, she let her eyes wander over every minuscule details and designs. The girls had indeed carried on a meticulous work, the design was intricate, the kind one would look at for hours in wonder and amazement.
Not an inch of skin could be perceived, her hands looked delicate and demure and the dark colour against her pale gone skin created a striking contrast alas the name written in giant letters only added to her misery as she blinked back the furious tears she had been holding while she sat among the gathering, while she sat in front of him.
Her chin quivered as she repeated the name of the man she was promised to as if to try and coax herself into this idea, to engrave Aditya in her mind, to make herself see reason that she couldn't go on like this, she couldn't miss what she had never had, what was never meant to be, she couldn't possible mourn for it.
And the more she repeated his name, the more it left a bitter almost metallic taste in her mouth. His name written in big bold letters stalked its claim over her, taunted her. He had marked her deliberately and slowly and for her it felt no less than a deprivation of her self-respect - the only thing that truly belonged to her was slowly slipping away from her grasp like sand between your fingers. It felt like her self-worth relied in this man's name.
She should be happy, ecstatic after all she was getting married in three days, she had everything for herself then why did it feel like her heart was tearing into two halves?
She was good at pretending, always the best at wearing the mask of indifference then why did her eyes seem dull when she looked at herself in the mirror, why did her shoulders remain rigid even when she held her head high why did her pursued lips refuse to blossom in the brilliant smile she used to wear when he was in breathing vicinity?
It should have been his name hidden in her mehndi and she knew for a fact that he wouldn't have staked his claim on her but rather would have left only the initial of his name or only a sign that would have reminded Suman of Shravan. She would never suffocate while walking down the road with him. He was fiercely protective of her but his love would have let her breathe and tackle her own storms and when she would be battered and tired enough to let go of her stubbornness, he would haul her in their safe cocoon and wrap her in blankets, like a child.
It should have been him, her friends teased her about as she duck her head down in embarrassment. It should have been him who cornered her against the wall of her room and he wouldn't have to force an I love you' out of her because she would have repeated it again and again to witness his eyes sparkling with infinite tenderness, beads forming at the corner of them -
he would have waited too long to hear it from her.
It should have been him she went to shopping with. He would have chosen the right colours, not too loud, not too bland. He would have chosen the right flowers, the right jewellery because he was the only one aware that as basic the golden and red combination was, it was her favourite that even though emeralds were her favourite she would only wear her mother's jewellery at her wedding and that even if it was impossible in this season the mandap would be decorated with tulips because roses were too overrated for her.
Shravan stood in front of the bar's entrance, a bottle of wine in hand and flowers to celebrate Aditya Ahuja's bachelor party, he had been invited to early in the evening. He stood still at the threshold as if it was a line he couldn't get himself to cross. Not yet. The corners of his lips pulled up in a sardonic smile. Tonight, he stood as a man. A man, whose actions would have consequences. A man, who could break the feeble foundation of a relationship with mere words. He was the master of his own will. He would never be only a second option. A substitute.
Once, he would pass the threshold and take this one step ahead, the feeble link that bound him to his older self would give away and he would be free from any kind of promises, responsibilities or devotion. This would be his slap to Nirmala Ahuja, for the years of constant indifference she had bestowed him with, for abandoning him without a second thought, for reducing him to the scarred teenager bearing the burden of a broken family on his tender shoulders.
He wanted his mother to suffer. He wanted to see her face twist in helplessness, her eyes to well up with tears of despair and her heart to hurt so much at the sight of her beloved foster son who would come back home with a broken heart, she would have to nurse back to life. He wanted to be the one giving the wounds. He was done being a healer when the only thing he had ever done in life was to nurse his wounds back to life.
Revenge was his sole motive and it ran through his arteries like blood. And perhaps after all hell broke loose, his soul would receive some peace, he would be able to close his eyes even if it meant to never open them again. At least, he would have this night for himself.
Because he didn't exist to her. He, the only son of his mother, the flesh of her flesh was inexistent to her. Transparent. Replaceable. Misunderstood.
Tonight, he would stumble into the darkness and he would ensure that everyone followed him suite to his doomsday, if he was embarking on a journey of self-destruction, he would make sure every single person around him would be left with mere shreds of their insignificant self.
He took a deep breath and took the first step towards the entrance when his phone buzzed in his jean's pocket. It was Rachna Mausi's call. Alarmed and worried for the fear that something bad had happened which could be the only reason behind the timing of this call, he answered immediately.
"Hello, Mausi sab theek to haina? Nanaji?" He asked distancing himself from the entrance he was about to cross, a few seconds ago.
"Bapu ji to bilkul theek hai, lekin Suman..."
"Kya huwa, Suman ko?" Unbeknownst to himself his voice had raised. He had stopped breathing for a second as he let her sentence linger in the air. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the thought of something unfortunate hitting her and he gulped in apprehension to shake these baseless thoughts that plagued his mind.
"Wo theek nahi hai, pata nahi kyon lekin wo mujhe pareshan lag rahi hai, koi baat hai jo wo chupa rahi hai, wo khush nahi hai," Rachna spoke without any hesitation, her niece's welfare being her utmost priority at the moment.
'Wo khush nahi hai'
He didn't need anyone to tell him for him to realize that but how did it even matter anymore? He would have given her the world but she had settled for a home made of glass. He would have given her a life of laughter and light but she had chosen convenience and facility.
"There is nothing as such. Shaadi main kuch din bacche hai wo baas stressed out hogi." His voice had never sounded more unconvincing to himself as it was in the moment and he thanked his stars that he wasn't in a court of law he was a pathetic liar.
"Tum keh rahe ho to maan leti hoon," She said, hoping and praying that it was only the stress and the rapidity of the wedding that explained Suman's lack of interest towards her own marriage.
"Accha, tum usse phone karlena ya kaal aake mil lena, tumhe bohot yaad kar rahi thi, puch rahi thi mujhse ke Shravan kahan gaya," She infomed him before greeting him good night.
'Tumhe bohot yaad kar rahi thi'
His chin quivered and his hands clenched and unclenched around the bottle. He couldn't breathe, he felt suffocated, he had to go, he had to run away. The flowers were left to wilt on the road. He ran as fast as he could, without looking back. He screamed. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Nirmala Ahuja had rubbed off on him. He turned out to be her son. Children are Parents' reflection, it often happens that when a child comes to harbour an aspect of their parents' personality, they tend to mould into the same person and thereof starts a journey of self-discovery or self-hate. He had ran away like a coward, a man too weak to break another's heart no matter the amount of times his heart had been teared apart, he could never harm her. It was unnatural for him, not to be her protector.
All that anger, that hatred balled up in his throat which he had dismissed as an effect of the circumstance had finally carved their way out. "I hate you, Suman Tiwari, I hate you! I hate you! He yelled in agony, his voice boomed through the silence of the dark brilliance as pieces of glasses came to crash against the wall of a building. Like those pieces of glass, his parts were scattered here and there and he was left alone to pick them up, one by one.
And it him like a whiplash as he stood like another face among the crowd, she was the centre of his universe and he the misfit in her life. This is why he couldn't himself to cross the line, because she was holding him down. She was the part of his humanity that would never let him succumb to his dark side but now she was someone else's. She was gone and with her departure, sooner or later his demons would consume him and he would be another name left to drown into oblivion.
Roaming around the house, she kept checking the doors and the windows. A habit she had picked on early in her childhood for the fear of getting stolen or simply to assure herself that everything was in order. When she made her way to the main door, she felt the need to open and verify if there wasn't anyone on the other side. Was she being paranoid? Without any doubt.
She peeked through the half-open door and her body paralysed with dread and sound something like a gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the man sitting on the small staircase, his back resting against the pillar next to him.
Slowly, she stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her, the sound should have caught his attention and he should have looked up at her like she anticipated but he didn't look up, his gaze stayed steady ahead of him. He knew it was her the moment he heard the door creak open behind him he didn't have to see it from his own eyes to know it.
She took small steps towards him, hesitant not knowing what to say or do. They had drifted apart from each other and even though he was in breathing vicinity, so close to her that she could caress the back of his head, she felt like he was at a million kilometres distance and steps heavy, confident or feeble and small nothing could ever diminish it.
"Shravan? She called out, her hand came to rest on his shoulder.
He slightly looked up, his eyes lingering on her hand that rested on his shoulder through his peripheral vision. He turned towards her as she knelt down in front of him. She stood taller than him on her knees while he was sitting on the floor. He looked distressed, broken just like he had lost something and it was now time to mourn over it. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair unkempt and she could tell by the looks of it that he had run his hand through it multiple times and his knuckles were bruised.
He held both of her hands in his trembling ones as if it was what kept him sane and sound. She peered down at him and felt her heart breaking at the way he was looking at her hands and realized that it was another demonstration of how much he had lost to others in life.
He was careful not to touch her. Her hands were so small and so warm against his cold gone hands. Her hands were always warmer and he would always find an opportunity to hold it, to feel the warmth of her fingers, slipping through his. He had never felt more completed.
His fingers merely ghost over the soft skin and she flinched from the tenderness of the gesture. She couldn't remember the last time he had touched her. He traced a circuit from her wrist to the pads of her fingers as if he wanted her to remember this moment for the rest of her life, for them to hold onto this memory before saying goodbye.
He raised her right hand, the one which had been marked and he laughed. A humourless laugh that would stay with her for the longest time - he had lost her for good. "Ye hi haath pakda ta na usne tumhara?" He held it out in front of her. His voice sounded hoarse as if he had been crying for hours and it broke her heart all over again.
He grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her for making an escape, he was still holding her palms between his, his hold had grown tighter and now she understood why he was avoiding to look into her eyes. He was suppressing tears.
He gulped back the lump in his throat and took a deep breath, his thumb running soothing circles on the skin of her wrist. "You have to let me go," He announced in a shattering sigh. She peered down at him, searching for his eyes, unable to comprehend what he meant by that. His eyes always let her know which storm he was fighting, which emotion he was dealing with.
His tears continuously fell on her covered palms. "Jaane do mujhe, please. His head was bent down and his voice was reduced to a mere whisper and to hear him, she had to bent down as well, her forehead touching his hair.
"Ab ye saab mujhse nahi hota. I can't be this person anymore, I can't go on like this" He fell silent when his voice quavered under the pressure of his heart's hurt and no matter how much he controlled his tears, they wouldn't stop. He tried to get rid off them, but they ended up making his vision of her blurry and this is what he would remember from his last conversation with Suman Tiwari. Whenever he would want to go back to her, the name of another would appear in front of his eyes, reminding him that he didn't mean anything to her.
"I have to go, okay?" He needed her permission for her to let go of him. Of the hold she had on him. Of the hold Sumo had on him. He needed her permission to lessen his guilt, to break free of the responsibility he felt he had towards her. He was once again leaving her.
"Jaon phir? He asked in a breathless whisper, praying that she would agree to let him go because if she fought tooth and nail with him he would surrender, if she tried to make him see reason, he would see reason and that would break him.
"Okay?"
She didn't utter a word but nodded her head in the affirmative even though he missed the slight movement as she bit the inner flesh of her cheek to stifle the sobs that shook her body. She blinked a few timed in order to get rid of the liquid in her eyes, making her tears fall in the middle of her palm and mingling with his tears. He smiled looking at her palm and shook his head at the thought - she would never make it easy for him.
Snapping his head, he looked at her, really looked at her and in that moment he knew that he had to let go of her, they had to let go of each other. The love he had for her was paralyzing and slowly steadily but surely killing him.
He could no longer be this person, the son abandoned by his mother, the man who harboured feelings for a woman who was getting married to another, he couldn't be this person anymore and to distance himself from this man he was slowly begins to resemble, he had to go away, run away and just let go of all the anger, the anguish, the rejection his heart had suppressed till now.
He let go of her hand, of the link that bound them to each other, his fingers slowly slipping away from her and he almost felt her holding onto him, pleading him in a silent way not to abandon her to her loneliness.
But like he had taught her so often, she gathered the last shreds of courage that was left in her and let him increase the distance between them.she didn't run after him to make him see reason, she didn't plead him for she had the knowledge that one day he would come back to her as a better man, as the best version of himself and she was ready to wait an entire lifetime for him.
He didn't turn to look at her even once because if he had done so, if he had committed the blunder of listening to the feeble voice that whispered him to go back, he would have staggered right back.
He walked away and with every step he took away from her, the breeze caressing his face, he felt liberated and free for the first time in ages, he could finally breathe
He was breaking free.
ShraMan OS: Breaking Free
Suman Tiwari tossed and turned around restlessly on her bed, in her room, in Tiwari Villa. Everyone had retrieved to bed - it had been a long and tiring day. But, she laid wide awake, her senses had adjusted to the dark and to the incessant tick-tock of the clock near her bed side table as the pendulum swings one way to another. Her mind is a jumble of messed thoughts.
She changed sides every five minutes, not knowing how to sooth the restlessness that seemed to capture every nerve of her mind, it didn't let her have a moment of respite for herself and yet she was careful not to mess up the mehndi Aditya had forcefully carved over her palm - it hadn't dried yet.
She raised both of her hands in front of her. In the dim light the moon offered through the open window of her room, she let her eyes wander over every minuscule details and designs. The girls had indeed carried on a meticulous work, the design was intricate, the kind one would look at for hours in wonder and amazement.
Not an inch of skin could be perceived, her hands looked delicate and demure and the dark colour against her pale gone skin created a striking contrast alas the name written in giant letters only added to her misery as she blinked back the furious tears she had been holding while she sat among the gathering, while she sat in front of him.
Her chin quivered as she repeated the name of the man she was promised to as if to try and coax herself into this idea, to engrave Aditya in her mind, to make herself see reason that she couldn't go on like this, she couldn't miss what she had never had, what was never meant to be, she couldn't possible mourn for it.
And the more she repeated his name, the more it left a bitter almost metallic taste in her mouth. His name written in big bold letters stalked its claim over her, taunted her. He had marked her deliberately and slowly and for her it felt no less than a deprivation of her self-respect - the only thing that truly belonged to her was slowly slipping away from her grasp like sand between your fingers. It felt like her self-worth relied in this man's name.
She should be happy, ecstatic after all she was getting married in three days, she had everything for herself then why did it feel like her heart was tearing into two halves?
She was good at pretending, always the best at wearing the mask of indifference then why did her eyes seem dull when she looked at herself in the mirror, why did her shoulders remain rigid even when she held her head high why did her pursued lips refuse to blossom in the brilliant smile she used to wear when he was in breathing vicinity?
It should have been his name hidden in her mehndi and she knew for a fact that he wouldn't have staked his claim on her but rather would have left only the initial of his name or only a sign that would have reminded Suman of Shravan. She would never suffocate while walking down the road with him. He was fiercely protective of her but his love would have let her breathe and tackle her own storms and when she would be battered and tired enough to let go of her stubbornness, he would haul her in their safe cocoon and wrap her in blankets, like a child.
It should have been him, her friends teased her about as she duck her head down in embarrassment. It should have been him who cornered her against the wall of her room and he wouldn't have to force an I love you' out of her because she would have repeated it again and again to witness his eyes sparkling with infinite tenderness, beads forming at the corner of them -
he would have waited too long to hear it from her.
It should have been him she went to shopping with. He would have chosen the right colours, not too loud, not too bland. He would have chosen the right flowers, the right jewellery because he was the only one aware that as basic the golden and red combination was, it was her favourite that even though emeralds were her favourite she would only wear her mother's jewellery at her wedding and that even if it was impossible in this season the mandap would be decorated with tulips because roses were too overrated for her.
Shravan stood in front of the bar's entrance, a bottle of wine in hand and flowers to celebrate Aditya Ahuja's bachelor party, he had been invited to early in the evening. He stood still at the threshold as if it was a line he couldn't get himself to cross. Not yet. The corners of his lips pulled up in a sardonic smile. Tonight, he stood as a man. A man, whose actions would have consequences. A man, who could break the feeble foundation of a relationship with mere words. He was the master of his own will. He would never be only a second option. A substitute.
Once, he would pass the threshold and take this one step ahead, the feeble link that bound him to his older self would give away and he would be free from any kind of promises, responsibilities or devotion. This would be his slap to Nirmala Ahuja, for the years of constant indifference she had bestowed him with, for abandoning him without a second thought, for reducing him to the scarred teenager bearing the burden of a broken family on his tender shoulders.
He wanted his mother to suffer. He wanted to see her face twist in helplessness, her eyes to well up with tears of despair and her heart to hurt so much at the sight of her beloved foster son who would come back home with a broken heart, she would have to nurse back to life. He wanted to be the one giving the wounds. He was done being a healer when the only thing he had ever done in life was to nurse his wounds back to life.
Revenge was his sole motive and it ran through his arteries like blood. And perhaps after all hell broke loose, his soul would receive some peace, he would be able to close his eyes even if it meant to never open them again. At least, he would have this night for himself.
Because he didn't exist to her. He, the only son of his mother, the flesh of her flesh was inexistent to her. Transparent. Replaceable. Misunderstood.
Tonight, he would stumble into the darkness and he would ensure that everyone followed him suite to his doomsday, if he was embarking on a journey of self-destruction, he would make sure every single person around him would be left with mere shreds of their insignificant self.
He took a deep breath and took the first step towards the entrance when his phone buzzed in his jean's pocket. It was Rachna Mausi's call. Alarmed and worried for the fear that something bad had happened which could be the only reason behind the timing of this call, he answered immediately.
"Hello, Mausi sab theek to haina? Nanaji?" He asked distancing himself from the entrance he was about to cross, a few seconds ago.
"Bapu ji to bilkul theek hai, lekin Suman..."
"Kya huwa, Suman ko?" Unbeknownst to himself his voice had raised. He had stopped breathing for a second as he let her sentence linger in the air. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the thought of something unfortunate hitting her and he gulped in apprehension to shake these baseless thoughts that plagued his mind.
"Wo theek nahi hai, pata nahi kyon lekin wo mujhe pareshan lag rahi hai, koi baat hai jo wo chupa rahi hai, wo khush nahi hai," Rachna spoke without any hesitation, her niece's welfare being her utmost priority at the moment.
'Wo khush nahi hai'
He didn't need anyone to tell him for him to realize that but how did it even matter anymore? He would have given her the world but she had settled for a home made of glass. He would have given her a life of laughter and light but she had chosen convenience and facility.
"There is nothing as such. Shaadi main kuch din bacche hai wo baas stressed out hogi." His voice had never sounded more unconvincing to himself as it was in the moment and he thanked his stars that he wasn't in a court of law he was a pathetic liar.
"Tum keh rahe ho to maan leti hoon," She said, hoping and praying that it was only the stress and the rapidity of the wedding that explained Suman's lack of interest towards her own marriage.
"Accha, tum usse phone karlena ya kaal aake mil lena, tumhe bohot yaad kar rahi thi, puch rahi thi mujhse ke Shravan kahan gaya," She infomed him before greeting him good night.
'Tumhe bohot yaad kar rahi thi'
His chin quivered and his hands clenched and unclenched around the bottle. He couldn't breathe, he felt suffocated, he had to go, he had to run away. The flowers were left to wilt on the road. He ran as fast as he could, without looking back. He screamed. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Nirmala Ahuja had rubbed off on him. He turned out to be her son. Children are Parents' reflection, it often happens that when a child comes to harbour an aspect of their parents' personality, they tend to mould into the same person and thereof starts a journey of self-discovery or self-hate. He had ran away like a coward, a man too weak to break another's heart no matter the amount of times his heart had been teared apart, he could never harm her. It was unnatural for him, not to be her protector.
All that anger, that hatred balled up in his throat which he had dismissed as an effect of the circumstance had finally carved their way out. "I hate you, Suman Tiwari, I hate you! I hate you! He yelled in agony, his voice boomed through the silence of the dark brilliance as pieces of glasses came to crash against the wall of a building. Like those pieces of glass, his parts were scattered here and there and he was left alone to pick them up, one by one.
And it him like a whiplash as he stood like another face among the crowd, she was the centre of his universe and he the misfit in her life. This is why he couldn't himself to cross the line, because she was holding him down. She was the part of his humanity that would never let him succumb to his dark side but now she was someone else's. She was gone and with her departure, sooner or later his demons would consume him and he would be another name left to drown into oblivion.
Roaming around the house, she kept checking the doors and the windows. A habit she had picked on early in her childhood for the fear of getting stolen or simply to assure herself that everything was in order. When she made her way to the main door, she felt the need to open and verify if there wasn't anyone on the other side. Was she being paranoid? Without any doubt.
She peeked through the half-open door and her body paralysed with dread and sound something like a gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the man sitting on the small staircase, his back resting against the pillar next to him.
Slowly, she stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her, the sound should have caught his attention and he should have looked up at her like she anticipated but he didn't look up, his gaze stayed steady ahead of him. He knew it was her the moment he heard the door creak open behind him he didn't have to see it from his own eyes to know it.
She took small steps towards him, hesitant not knowing what to say or do. They had drifted apart from each other and even though he was in breathing vicinity, so close to her that she could caress the back of his head, she felt like he was at a million kilometres distance and steps heavy, confident or feeble and small nothing could ever diminish it.
"Shravan? She called out, her hand came to rest on his shoulder.
He slightly looked up, his eyes lingering on her hand that rested on his shoulder through his peripheral vision. He turned towards her as she knelt down in front of him. She stood taller than him on her knees while he was sitting on the floor. He looked distressed, broken just like he had lost something and it was now time to mourn over it. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair unkempt and she could tell by the looks of it that he had run his hand through it multiple times and his knuckles were bruised.
He held both of her hands in his trembling ones as if it was what kept him sane and sound. She peered down at him and felt her heart breaking at the way he was looking at her hands and realized that it was another demonstration of how much he had lost to others in life.
He was careful not to touch her. Her hands were so small and so warm against his cold gone hands. Her hands were always warmer and he would always find an opportunity to hold it, to feel the warmth of her fingers, slipping through his. He had never felt more completed.
His fingers merely ghost over the soft skin and she flinched from the tenderness of the gesture. She couldn't remember the last time he had touched her. He traced a circuit from her wrist to the pads of her fingers as if he wanted her to remember this moment for the rest of her life, for them to hold onto this memory before saying goodbye.
He raised her right hand, the one which had been marked and he laughed. A humourless laugh that would stay with her for the longest time - he had lost her for good. "Ye hi haath pakda ta na usne tumhara?" He held it out in front of her. His voice sounded hoarse as if he had been crying for hours and it broke her heart all over again.
He grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her for making an escape, he was still holding her palms between his, his hold had grown tighter and now she understood why he was avoiding to look into her eyes. He was suppressing tears.
He gulped back the lump in his throat and took a deep breath, his thumb running soothing circles on the skin of her wrist. "You have to let me go," He announced in a shattering sigh. She peered down at him, searching for his eyes, unable to comprehend what he meant by that. His eyes always let her know which storm he was fighting, which emotion he was dealing with.
His tears continuously fell on her covered palms. "Jaane do mujhe, please. His head was bent down and his voice was reduced to a mere whisper and to hear him, she had to bent down as well, her forehead touching his hair.
"Ab ye saab mujhse nahi hota. I can't be this person anymore, I can't go on like this" He fell silent when his voice quavered under the pressure of his heart's hurt and no matter how much he controlled his tears, they wouldn't stop. He tried to get rid off them, but they ended up making his vision of her blurry and this is what he would remember from his last conversation with Suman Tiwari. Whenever he would want to go back to her, the name of another would appear in front of his eyes, reminding him that he didn't mean anything to her.
"I have to go, okay?" He needed her permission for her to let go of him. Of the hold she had on him. Of the hold Sumo had on him. He needed her permission to lessen his guilt, to break free of the responsibility he felt he had towards her. He was once again leaving her.
"Jaon phir? He asked in a breathless whisper, praying that she would agree to let him go because if she fought tooth and nail with him he would surrender, if she tried to make him see reason, he would see reason and that would break him.
"Okay?"
She didn't utter a word but nodded her head in the affirmative even though he missed the slight movement as she bit the inner flesh of her cheek to stifle the sobs that shook her body. She blinked a few timed in order to get rid of the liquid in her eyes, making her tears fall in the middle of her palm and mingling with his tears. He smiled looking at her palm and shook his head at the thought - she would never make it easy for him.
Snapping his head, he looked at her, really looked at her and in that moment he knew that he had to let go of her, they had to let go of each other. The love he had for her was paralyzing and slowly steadily but surely killing him.
He could no longer be this person, the son abandoned by his mother, the man who harboured feelings for a woman who was getting married to another, he couldn't be this person anymore and to distance himself from this man he was slowly begins to resemble, he had to go away, run away and just let go of all the anger, the anguish, the rejection his heart had suppressed till now.
He let go of her hand, of the link that bound them to each other, his fingers slowly slipping away from her and he almost felt her holding onto him, pleading him in a silent way not to abandon her to her loneliness.
But like he had taught her so often, she gathered the last shreds of courage that was left in her and let him increase the distance between them.she didn't run after him to make him see reason, she didn't plead him for she had the knowledge that one day he would come back to her as a better man, as the best version of himself and she was ready to wait an entire lifetime for him.
He didn't turn to look at her even once because if he had done so, if he had committed the blunder of listening to the feeble voice that whispered him to go back, he would have staggered right back.
He walked away and with every step he took away from her, the breeze caressing his face, he felt liberated and free for the first time in ages, he could finally breathe
He was breaking free.
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Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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