|OS- Bhoola Denge|

Bhoola Denge…

The wind echoing around him, the drapes caressing his back as the air ruffled them through the open window. Sighing, he leaned his head against the corner of the window, letting his dark locks to fall on his forehead as he bowed his head, eyes closed tightly. Again, his mind was filled with thoughts of her. That night, that moment had been so special to them both, but just like that, in a snap of fingers, she had walked out of his life, leaving him vulnerable for once in his entire life. That vulnerability had not ended…a year has gone by yet her thoughts haunted him every minute of the day.

Even his dreams were of her, their memories, the moments they both had laughed, those rare occasions he would show his romantic side, hidden deep beneath his exterior of a detective. She had caused that side of his to come out, she made him laugh, made him realize that life isn't just about doing your duty, it's about laughing and having fun, being with your loved ones for as long as you can and then leaving this world with peace in your heart.

Their first meeting was of her yelling at him, she had thought he was trying to hurt the little boy somehow. She had raised her hand to slap him, she almost had succeeded, but he had taken her small hand in his big one, holding it tightly while she glared at him. Her first words had echoed around him in anger, "Freakin prat" she had called him. He remembered, behind him, his friends had burst out in laughter and were hooting at them. Idiots, he recalled adoringly.

After her departure, they had been his pillars of strength, holding him up while around him, his very world had crushed. In a fit of anger, he hadn't slept for a whole week, running around to search for her and the cause of her leaving him. When he had found out that it was his enemy who had taken her away from him, away from this world, he had fallen into a mode. The mission was to have that man being brought to justice, so her death would not be in vain, next to the others he had killed.

And here he was, his eyes opened to glare out at the world below his window, in New York to have his mission become a success. Tomorrow he would be getting engaged for the second time in his life, this time to the woman he didn't love. He knew it was wrong to play with her emotions, but…for him now, nothing mattered, and only having those terrorists taken in prison mattered. He was doing this, while placing a rock on his heavy heart, so he could get closer to the bad men. So he could know more of their plans to be able to end them, before any more lives were lost at their hands.

If she had been alive, she would have scoffed at his attitude, hurting an innocent girl to get his bad men. She would have hated him for doing this to her, ruining the life of someone who didn't even know his real face, his real name. He wondered if he would be strong enough to do this in the end, to put that ring on her finger, signifying a love that didn't exist. Would he be able to take off his past ring? To allow a new one to take place on the finger that is said to lead straight to the heart? Would he, could he? He didn't know anymore.

Turning around, he glanced at the dressing table next to his bed. The picture on it was lit by the moonlight trailing in through the window, his frame blocking some of it, causing the frame to be lit half way and the darkness to with hold the rest of the image. The girl in the picture, holding the young child, a boy, in her lap was his angel. His reason for living, the same girl he was thinking of right now. Black hair was falling down her back, with big brown eyes twinkling at him, half-smirk lighting up her face.

Closing his eyes tightly, he smacked the window sill roughly, the edge cutting his hand, causing bright liquid to trail down, hitting the carpet and turning it to dark red. A desperate sound left him as he slid down, sitting on the carpet, his unhurt hand tugging through his dark locks frustrated.

Why did she not leave him be? Why did she continue to haunt him? Why, why, why?!

The door to his room was pushed open, hesitantly and slowly. A man stood in the doorway, blue eyes stared into the dark room carefully before falling on his fallen frame. The newcomer ran hurriedly over to him, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder, causing him to raise his hand and stare at his friend with teary eyes.

"Why Danny, why?" he asked in a soft broken whisper.

Danny closed his eyes, pinched his nose as he sighed, sounding utterly exhausted.

"Preet, you need to stop this" he dared to utter, opening his bright eyes and looking his broken friend straight through the eyes, making sure his message was delivered as seriousness.

"But how can I? She won't leave me alone! I need her back Dan, I need her. It hurts, it hurts here" Preet placed his hand over his heart. Danny blinked quickly, trying to hide the water that was taking over his eyes. He could not stand to see his friend in this state.

"I know mate, I know. Trust me, we all miss her. But no one as much as you, but Preet, she's the reason we're doing this. One of the reasons to make sure this mission doesn't fail, what would she say if she saw you this broken? Where's the Preet, the confident man that had managed to woo her swiftly? Where's that man who knew exactly what he's doing next?

You're Preet Juneja! Detective Juneja, don't forget, many people and their lives rest on our shoulders, we need to do this. She would've wanted us to make sure that the bad dudes got what they deserve. She would have wanted this mission to succeed, and we sure as hell will make sure it happens. Come on man, get up. You look pathetic" Danny muttered, wrinkling his nose with what seemed like disgust.

Preet knew he was doing this to fire him up, but it wasn't working. Not this time. He was giving up, for the first time since that incident, since his mission was given to his team, he felt like giving up and going away from everything.

"Preet, you're going to get them, I just know it. Just wait and watch, you'll kick their asses and you'll be getting medals and thanks from everyone!"

Echoed through his mind suddenly, he glanced around anxiously to find where that voice, her voice had come from. A hope had lit in his heart, that she was around him right now, but he couldn't find her. Only a confused Danny was with him.

A lost sigh left him as he stood, walking to the bathroom to bandage his hand, leaving behind Danny to stare after him with sad eyes. Standing in front of the sink, he stared down at his hand; the blood was stopping and had long ago become dried on his skin. It brought back memories, the ones he wanted to forget.

Screams, pain, desperation, search, hope squashed.

Opening his eyes, he wondered when he had closed them in the first place, breathing rashly, echoing silently around him. Tears began to trail down his cheeks as a piercing pain hit his chest suddenly, the memories that had become so alive, haunting him yet again. When would he be able to rest peacefully? Just when?

Glancing at the mirror, he was left frozen as the smiling image of her stood next to him. She turned her eyes down to stare at his hand and suddenly scowled at him, motioning for him to take care of the cut before it got infected or re-opened. His eyes, wide with something akin to hope, never strayed away from her image as he turned on the tap and stuck his hand under the water, allowing the blood to melt away, leaving his hand to be once again clean.

He blinked and she was gone.

"Take care of yourself you idiot, what if I'm not around to help you someday?"

"But you will be, after all, you're my angel"

"Preet, stop trying to manao me. Just look, you're hurt and you don't even care about it"

"I don't need to, that's why you're here"

"Pagal"

"Lekin tumhara pagal, right?"

"Right"

Hopelessly he glanced around the small bathroom, hoping that she was still somewhere around him. His heart felt that she was somewhere near him, but his mind criticized at him for dreaming about things that weren't reality.

A soft whisper, a plea left him.

"Rinki"

But it remained unanswered.

-||-

Comments/Critisism/slaps?

- Rinki