Abhigya:SS:The Girl Nobody Loved: COMPLETE - Page 31

Originally posted by: kdsubs

Don't, don't, don't give this story a traditional happy ending. Please. Just don't. Ok?

Last week was spectacularly busy and i missed your last 3 updates. Heck, i should have just waited till you finished and read all 4 parts together. Stupid sense of urgency to catch up. Bleh.

I am not going to say you write darned well. I am not going to sigh over the last few chapters. Been there, done that. You know the obvious already, so why waste your time and mine? Right twinnie? (see? i am not above taking liberties to excuse my own laziness 😆).

What i am going to talk about though is the ever disintegrating dynamic between the two and that last line Pragya utters. The last update i had read - when Abhi has the flashes of memory of what he could have potentially done to her - i thought that was about the worst he could tolerate. Or not tolerate. His realization that he had almost raped her. Just the fact that he could have done so was enough to destroy him as a man.

Funny isn't it (and not in a humourous way) but despite all the pain one human can inflict on another, it takes the sheer physicality of something like rape for people to begin to comprehend the extent of harm one can do another. And yet, rape is not only physical. The psychological damage, the emotional devastation, the complete erosion of sense of self that one person, or a group, can make another human go through, is often way worse and far more potent than a physical attack can be. (I need to have you read my Broken Wings).

And much as Abhi had realized the extent of the damage he had done to her, he never imagined the depth, had he? For, when she loves him, she hates herself. I am speechless. And all i can say is - ish. Even if he had survived the knowledge of that potential physical rape, can he survive this one? The fact that he has made her hate herself for loving him, for being unable to hate him, for being unable to stop herself from loving him?

Abhi would have been able to deal with her hatred for him. He may not survive her loathing of herself.

Originally posted by: valschanya

Right, that little speech at the end.. basically every single angsty story in a nutshell. I'm such a glutton for angst it's taking over my life👏

Originally posted by: rosal_awesome

Advena! Omg you're by far one of the best writers whose writing I have ever had the pleasure to encounter!! :')) The kind of depth you've given to the characters is just...beautifully unimaginably amazing 👏 You were so bang on about their feelings...that last paragraph was just perfect; pragya left not because she hated him but he made her hate herself and that kiss was described so beautifully... I've never, not once seen a writer, at least by my experience this far, explain a simple kiss with such emotion...it just drew me right in 😳 as an awed reader, I'd appreciate if you could please pm me of any future stories that you'd write on AbhiGya 😛

-Sanaya

P.S terribly sorry wasn't able to comment on earlier 2-3 chapters because I was really busy!

The Girl Nobody Loved

Chapter Ten - Tomorrow

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[YOUTUBE]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxVUee4WsoA[/YOUTUBE]

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We know full well there's just time
So is it wrong to toss this line?

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Present Day,
Pune.

Once again, Pragya found her hand shaking ever so slightly as she fit her key into the door.

The last time she had walked away from this house, she'd left with him.

And here she was again, walking back in, and in the most inexplicable ways his absence made her feel oddly hollow inside, hollow in places she didn't know how to reach, hollow in places that ached to be held, and hollow in places that she knew would never completely fill up.

The soft click of the lock, making her bite her lip as a wave of something damningly close to anticipation, swept around her, like the soft gust of wind that pushed at the door.

The bitter-sweet taste of defeat still clung to her lips, just as the memory of that one punishingly delicate touch of his lips clung invisibly to hers. She'd nearly given in then. She'd nearly pressed back and gave in one last time.

But there was never a last time with him.

There was always more, always something else in the offing that would force her to turn back and pretend that there was nothing wrong. It used to be, that she would do it because it was easier to pretend nothing was wrong, than face the reality she was subjected to, but slowly, at one point, it wasn't easy anymore, and it wasn't convenience that made her turn a blind eye to the unforgivable.

At one point it was hope that made her pretend, and even the crippling irony of something as pure as hope being sullied by the likes of pretense couldn't make her wake up.

Until one day she did.

There was no rhyme, or reason.

No logic.

She simply realized that it was.

In that one moment Pragya Arora Mehra, broke free from the chains of a corrupt hope.

She stopped promising to pray harder and more often.

She stopped pleading, and begging and bargaining.

She simply stopped.

And then, one gentle tear escaped her soul, and did what the soft touch of reason, and the brute force of reality before it hadn't been able to do.

It pulled away that last frayed thread of hope and taught her to give up.

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If your heart was full of love
Could you give it up?

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Ten Years Later,
Sanjay Gandhi Park, Mumbai.

Any other musician, who saw a grubby handed five year old manhandle a custom made Fender guitar, the way his was currently being manhandled, would quite possibly have fainted dead away in horror.

Anyone but him, that is.

Silently pocketing the now worn silver sikka he used in lieu of a guitar pick, Abhishiekh Mehra, the once upon a time Rockstar, made his way back to his momentarily abandoned perch, up on the grassy slope, of the festooned Public Park he had partially rented out for his God-daughter's Princess-themed' 8^th birthday.

His hand still in his pocket, as he gave his sikkha one final rub, Abhi found himself crouching carefully, to bring himself level with the chubby cheeked, enchantress, currently holding his guitar hostage.

Seemingly undaunted, by his presence, Abhi found himself the object of one little princess's rapt attention, as he watched amused, as her fingers closed possessively around the central chords, all the while eyeing him assessingly, while her other hand was spread thoughtfully across her cheek in a near perfect imitation of his own.

It was a good thing, he silently admitted, his lips curving up in an irrepressible smile, as achingly familiar doe eyes peeked out from under softly curled lashes, that Abhi was no longer surprised by how easy it was to fall in love, with someone's shadow.

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'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special

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Ten Years Ago,
Mumbai.

For the first time in a long time, Abhisheikh Mehra, heartthrob of the nation, felt a sharp almost keening sense of loss.

"...I don't hate you Abhi. It's just when I'm near you, I'm so weak, I can't not love you, and when I let myself love you - I hate myself."

Was this truly what he had reduced her to?

His throat working convulsively as he fought back scalding tears, flames of intangible torment scorched the remnants of his already shattered soul.

In the past year, Abhishiekh had allowed himself one luxury - hope.

Day after day, week after week, he had told himself that he would find her and that once he did everything would be okay.

Not because he decreed it, or because he willed it, but because he was willing to do anything in his power to ensure that it was.

In the twelve nearly intolerable months of her absence, Abhishiekh found himself turning time and time again back to that one unfailing hope, and like a beacon perched delicately on a rocky shore, that one single hope shone, guiding him like a lost ship in an ocean of doubt.

Every night that he had almost given up Abhi closed his eyes and envisioned that beacon of hope, he envisioned it because for him, hope was far from an intangible fleeting light - he envisioned it because he could.

Hope, after all was far from intangible in Abhi's heart. Hope was real, she was pure and perfect. She had a smile that tempted you to smile back, and a sweetness that made you ache.

For months Abhi held on to hope, because hope was her.

Hope was finding her, hope was loving her, hope was holding her in his arms and never letting go.

What he had never in considered in all this was that it would all come at a cost even he wasn't willing to bear.

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Don't give me up
Don't give...
Me up
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It was almost dawn.

She could tell by the way the pulsing darkness of the night sky seemed to concentrate itself. Soft biting winds, clattering ever so softly as they hit the brittle old glass of the despondent window frame she'd been keeping company all night.

It had been a month since she returned from Mumbai.

The silent vigil she now held was now almost a habit.

Almost, because despite the long hours, she'd spent standing alone, never once did the same eyes look outside.

Sometimes, a woman would look out, brave, strong, and courageous, this woman knew exactly what she wanted, and with this knowledge came a sense of liberty, of freedom, of escape.

Sometimes, it was a young girl with carefully nurtured dreams that she'd shielded against the monstrosity that was reality.

Sometimes it was a lover, lost and anguished as she screamed silently inside to be allowed, just once more to run into arms she knew were waiting.

Night after night, the eyes in the window changed, and yet ironically, everything - the silence, the absence, and every almost that racked her tattered heart - remained the same.

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How unfair, it's just our love
Found something real that's out of touch
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It had taken him a month to finally put his affairs in order.

It was almost funny now he thought of it. His entire life, he'd strived to ensure the entire nation's heart beat to the rhythm he dictated, and he'd done it all for one reason - consequence.

Tipping his fedora, just a bit lower over his forehead, Abhi buried his face into the soft folds of his newly bought scarf, as an group of men seemed to be gathering, to walk towards the neighbourhood mosque in answer to the haunting early morning call to prayer.

Young, stubborn and seemingly invincible, Abhishiekh had once fought tooth and nail to crawl his way so high up - that even the Gods he refused to invoke couldn't ignore him.

Yet here he was - four weeks and almost six days later, disheveled, unshaved, and desperate to be invisible.

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But if you'd searched the whole wide world
Would you dare to let it go?

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It was that knock that made her heart go into overdrive.

After nights of unrequited longing to just see him one more time that soft, yet solid knock, at Four A.M gave Pragya more hope then she had a right to ever feel again. And yet she did.

But sharp on the heels of her hope came something darker, something more weary, more frayed.

For a second everything stopped, and she simply stood there in front of the door, her breathing still shallow from her torrid decent down the stairs, her eye glued to her own shadow as it seemed to seep through the pitiful wooden wall - between them. And it was him.

Sight unseen, she knew.

"Pragya."

Drawn inexplicably to the husky voice, as it bled into her soul, Pragya gave in. Her hand pushing against the rough grainy surface of the wood, as her fingers trembled on the lock, she gave up - she was so tired of fighting.

She loved him.

Did anything else really matter?

The lock finally unlocked, Pragya tugged the door open, and only to have the quick bite of winter closed just as suddenly.

"Don't."

"Abhi..." she whispered, uncertainty mingling with some other indefinable emotion, her hands, once again curving around the doorknob, only to be silenced by the pained harshness of his voice, as he held the door shut against himself.

"I can't do this if I see you Pragya. I won't have the strength - Oh God, Sweetheart please..."

Confusion and a fear unlike any other paralyzed her for the briefest seconds, before she nodded her head. It wasn't until she heard Abhi drag in a ragged breath from outside that she realized he couldn't see her. "Yes." She whispered, her lips fitted carefully to the edge of the doorframe, her hand pressed flat against in a mute surrender.

For long moments, all she could hear was the echo of the Azaan as it seemed to fill the weighted silence of the night, and then she heard his voice, heavy with remorse, and that one other indefinable emotion she'd been reluctant to name only moments earlier.

"I was going to come after you.

Not to find you and take you home, or to tell you how sorry I was and how I wanted to make things right - I was coming after you to fight for you.

Because, I wanted to prove to you that you are worth fighting for.

Because while you spent months fighting for us, I was being a dense idiot who didn't know better, till now, till this moment, when I realized I could fight hard enough for both of us.

Because you could never hate yourself as much as I would love you, because I will love you enough for both of us.

I wanted to fight for us.

I wanted us to have a chance.

But then I realized, we had our chance, didn't we?"

Her eyes clenched shut as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, Pragya bit fiercely down on her lips. No, she wanted desperately to scream. No! We never had our chance, we had mistakes and almost's, and secrets - but never a chance.

Her forehead pressed painfully against the door, she nodded in silent admission of the "Yes" she could not voice. In the end, she hadn't needed to.

His voice as it came through the paneled wood, was resigned, sad almost, "I thought so."

For a second, she thought he'd left, and her hand tightened imperceptibly on the doorknob once again, to pull it open and run after him, or to tug it firmly shut, and turn away from him she would never know. But that infinitesimal action seemed to communicate itself to him, because he spoke again, his voice steady, calm almost, as he explained -

"I'm not here to fight Pragya, or to beg.

We've fought enough, and after everything else, that last thing you deserve is to be on the receiving end of pleas that you should never have to forgive.

I'm not here to fight, Sweetheart.

I'm here to wait."

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'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special

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Abhi hadn't known what he was expecting to do once he came back to Pune.

Part of him, had simply wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless, and keep her that way - to hell with the world, and the past.

But standing outside her door, his forehead pressed against the door, with the sound of her rushing down the stairs as if she'd been waiting, oh -so long - something changed - it was almost as if a part of his ragged soul recognized the cracks in her own, and in that moment everything changed.

He didn't want this for her. Not if all he was doing was tearing her apart.

And so he told her. His hand still wrapped around the handle of the door, as he held it shut against himself, Abhi could feel her weight against it. Months ago, he would have given anything to have been this close to her, and nothing would have kept him away - and yet here he stood, holding himself carefully aloof.

"I'm here to wait." He repeated, his fingers trailing gently across the surface of the wood, as if they were trailing the silk smooth surface of her cheeks instead.

"Because it feels like that is the one thing no one has ever done for you.

No one waited did they?

They all just went on with their lives, like nothing happened. I just went on with my life," he admitted guilt flickering to life yet again, " - and you were left behind. Always."

A ragged sob tore through the silence, and for the life him, he couldn't say whose it was. All he knew as that it was his voice, that was fiercely and yet oh so solemnly promising, "I'm not leaving you behind today, I'm not leaving.

I'm waiting.

Here.

Today.

Everyday. As long as you need me to."

"Abhi..." And in that one word, Abhi heard every secret doubt she couldn't voice. Every, 'I can't', every 'Won't' and every 'Not Again', she added silently, and yet oh so loudly, into the aching miles of what if's' that stretched between them.

Light finally began to filter through the greying clouds, light that traced the delicate copper pot of kumkum, Abhi pulled out of his pocket, and placed tenderly on the welcome mat. His hand hovered over it for the briefest of moments, and then swiftly, decisively, he flicked it open and pocketed a red streaked silver sikkha.

Reaching his free hand out to the rough teak door that stood between them, Abhishiekh Mehra closed his eyes in silent surrender, and once again he repeated, "I'll wait for you. "Always, he promised just as silently and yet just as loudly, into those same aching miles of what if's' that stretched between them.

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Don't give me up
Don't give...
Me up

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Ten Years Later,
Sanjay Gandhi Park, Mumbai.

"Mamma! Mamma! Mammaaa!"

"Uffo! Ayi!" called Pragya, shaking her head as she passed Purvi the tray of cake slices that needed to be passed on, "Ask Suresh to show you where the napkins are, I need to go find my 'Mamma' before she decides to scream the invisible roof down."

Shaking her head, as she fought to hide her smile, Pragya, carefully made her way up the grassy slope, to the beaming five year old, perched carefully atop the park bench, as if she hadn't a care in the world. Scrunching her nose, as she held her hand out to her perfect if precocious little toddler, Pragya asked, in a mock-stern voice, "And what exactly are you doing up here?"

But the child in her arms was far too loved, and far too cherished to be intimidated, by any admonishment, and with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she bussed her mother lovingly on the cheek as she answered, the sweet surety in her voice bringing tears to Pragya's eyes.

"Waiting Mamma."

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'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special

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Waiting.

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It's not about not about angels, angels

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A/N:

Since this is our very last chapter of TGNL, and you are apparently reading this, I would love to actually hear from you, no matter who you are or what you have to say. So please do Read and Review.


EDIT: It's been brought to my attention that there may be a little confusion with this chapter so let me clarify - The ending was an open end - part of me wanted to make it simple for them and just spell it out either way - but in the end I think the incompleteness resonated with me.

Much Love,
A

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Originally posted by: MarGan

Waiting for that time advena...😛