Posted:
I wanted to dedicate this story to our Shahi. Actually, it was a fiction written a long time ago. Heart-breaking one. Again, not my original idea. I'm like a director who takes a novel and turn it into a movie. 😆 I hope I did a good job with it. It's not more then 5-6 chapters. Don't kill me after reading it. 😉😆
Here goes nothing ... if you do not want to get embarassed by crying ... don't read. 😛 By the way, I didn't know Angad's last name so I used "Khanna". You will know why ... 😉😆
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Chapter 1: Her Headstone
A yellow convertible screeched to a stop front of the graveyard. A well-rounded man gets out, with flowers held lazily in his left hand. With long, semi-unruly hair, piercing blue eyes and bulging biceps, he walked into the graveyard ...
As 28 years old, Shabd Sareen placed the flowers on the fresh dirt of the grave as he wiped away his tears. God, how glad he was that nobody else was there except him, as he had spend the last couple of minutes bawling his eyes out. Hell, it hurt so much to think about it. He had refused to allow himself to feel anything for last couple of days. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help himself. Standing front of her headstone -- brought all those memories back. Sweet. Sour.
Mahi Malhotra, his closest friend in the entire world, was dead. Murdered. Brutally murdered by her abusive husband, Angad. Angad Khanna.
Shabd could never understand how Mahi, or any woman, especially Mahi, could live like that. Yes, she had left him several times. He would wait, then beg her to come back. Every time, it took some time, but she always did. Why? She was always such a head-strong person, why would she go back? To him? He asked those questions to himself a lot of times ... but did he have answers to those questions? Guess not.
Shabd still remembered the last time vividly: When she had shown up at his door with the girls, he didn't hesitate. Her daughters. Her beautiful daughters: Sur and Diya. Of course, they could stay. They always did. The girls got the large master bed, Mahi got one of the couches and so did he. The next day, when he knew Angad would be home and Mahi would be occupied, Shabd gathered Taya ji and his cousin brother, Jeet together. Having tried other ways in the past, they spoke to Angad in a language he'd understand: Fists.
Of course, even that hadn't worked either ... or Mahi couldn't have been ...
Sighing, he remembered the day she decided to go back to him. That last time, she said. He'd begged her on his knees, not to go. He was so afraid for her, for the girls. Things had gotten so intense, he had almost let his secret slip. That he ... But he'd choked it back. Once she was gone, he had broken down completely. Why did he hold back? Why didn't he just tell her? Maybe, if she knew, she could have stayed. Something, kept him from saying it, every time. Dammit, what was it?
It's too late now. The woman he loved is dead. He knew that part of him felt like he had killed her with his own filthy hands.
Shabd thought he was alone. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar female voice: "You loved her, didn't you?"
