'Tumhe meri zaroorat thi...?': Shivika

Originally posted by: geet.a

It's a long post, so here goes:

Her heart in her throat, and with tears streaming down her eyes, he barely had a glimpse of her before she rushed into his eternally-waiting arms.

As he wrapped his arms around the terrified, sobbing woman, his heart all but collapsed. With a shaky voice, he tried to soothe her, caressing her hair, as much as trying to ease away the terror in her voice as to breathe normally himself.

With all borders breached between them in that brief moment, they refused to maintain any space between them as shortly after answering him, she hid her fears in the only person who was there to collect them, erase them.

'main aa gaya hoon'

It was the only consolation he could give her, that he was there, and he would not go anywhere, he would not leave her to deal with this terror: She was not alone.

After years of battling loneliness and the world, the monster under the bed finally made its move, and she realized she was not that strong after all. How could she be in the face of such tangible danger?

And yet, he was shattered to see her like this.

Did he ever expect he would see these helpless tears in this strong, beautiful woman's eyes?

Still, he refused to think or call her weak. And so he soothed her by the one reassurance he could give: He was here now and no one could hurt her. Thankfully, she did not notice the slight trembling of his hands as he caressed her hair, calming himself in a childish gesture meant to comfort her; nor did she notice the hitch in his breath as she wrapped her arms around him.

She held on for dear life, to the man who had come through for her, to the one person who had eventually always come through for her when she needed him, even when she did not know it.

Breathing in his calmness, she allowed herself to be caressed and rocked, to be held like she mattered, after such a long time, a feeling that was alien to her. And yet, she did not want to let it go. She did not want to let him go, for when he held her, the nightmares faded away and all she felt was a light behind her eyes, warm and bright. She touched his blazer, just to ensure herself he was real, as if his words were not enough, as if his touch wasn't enough.

In a shock, he knew she needed care, and so he offered her the only thing that always roused her: water.

With a worried frown, he reminded her to drink it when she held the glass in her hand, unmoving.

'Andhera tha'

All he needed to hear was that slight tremble in her voice and he knew he'd had enough. She had to come with him where he could take care of her properly, in his own house, where she spent more than half her days.

After such a harrowing experience, did it even register that she had all but revealed her fear of the dark to him, that he out of all people would be able to sense the undertones in her voice?

And yet, his eyes seemed to be almost pleading hers to accept, knowing all the while that she would deny.

'hum sab ko sahare aur madad ki zaroorat hoti hai'

He could never deny her strength and her independence, these were qualities that had made him admire her for so long and incidents like these could not take an iota of strength away from her, he knew. And yet, he needed her to understand that she could use some help sometimes, that she did not have to do everything alone, not anymore.

And his next action seemed to prove it: she did not need his help to have water, that calming elixir, and yet he needed to help her as much as he wanted to reassure himself that she was there, she was okay, she would be fine, and that he had eased her troubles just a little bit, had contributed in not throwing water on her, but in dousing the fiery flames of terror in her eyes.

So, he gently led his hands to support hers, and that glass of life she drank from. He would ensure she lived, she experienced, and she was safe.

That grip on her hands was a misnomer, it was a mere caress, just a touch to reassure her that she needn't be afraid, that he would stay by her side in this moment of terror.

Surely she must have noticed the hesitance in his tone as he changed his question into a statement, one that must have been plaguing him ever since he had entered her home: one of leaving without her?

Was that why she stopped him? To prolong a moment that was dying its unnatural, hasty death?

And she asked the question that had been plaguing her, one that demanded answers. Did he notice the shyness in her voice as she asked how he knew she needed him.

In that moment, did either of them realize what she had admitted?

This need for him in times of danger: he was the first person she had thought of, and he had not failed her.

The enormity must have struck him so he stuttered his way out of it, by logically explaining away the uneasiness and the speediness with which he had driven to her house.

In the middle of explanations, he admitted to the biggest insecurity he had about her and her behaviour towards him: Tumhe meri zaroorat hai?

A question so carefully slipped in, that it seemed like a pause between two statements about something as banal as the weather.

And yet, she heard it, and answered with the only thing she knew could appease him at the moment: his name in her voice. She gave him what he had so fiercely demanded from her, she gave him his name back, and she accepted the right he had given her, no, thrust upon her.

Why did it take so much time for her to utter a name? After all, she'd called him so many times before?

Did she realize what that name meant to her, after all? all that it represented, all that it had come to mean to her: A safehouse after the storm, a pair of warm arms, a pair of glacial to fiery blue colour-changing eyes, and a voice that could be velvety and rough within seconds, someone to depend on?

Why did she want to believe in him? Why did she wish to protect him from all harm, only she was never as vocal as he was, when he talked about letting him help?

So she gave him the only thing she knew he wanted from her: his name, spoken with as much emotion as she could have put in one word, for one person: Shivaay.

A talisman to calm her down, a name to heal, a reassurance against the storm even though mostly, he was its originator.

Shivaay had no idea how it would feel to hear that word from her voice, a word spoken with a hesitant right, not easily given, nor easily accepted. And yet, she had claimed it after all this time, finally, when he thought she would not call to him again. She called him, and her voice echoed in his heart, bringing an involuntary spark in his eyes, and a near-smile on his face.

'Kisi cheez ki bhi zaroorat pade, I'm just a call away'

'jaanti hoon'

How much relief did those words give to his heart? Knowing she would reach out to him IF she needed his help? Knowing she wouldn't try and bear all her fear and pain but call him? That she had accepted him, and his offer for help?

With a much lighter heart, and a happier smile, he left her to her thoughts, her tear-filled eyes following him, yearning to call him back and knowing that was a ridiculous thought, aware of the cold his warmth had been replaced by and she shrugged it all away, thinking about the events of the night.

Okay that's it from me!

Hope it did justice to the scene😳😆

love

Geet