Didn't she see what she did to him? Couldn't she see it behind the careful mask he had constructed?
Weren't the beats of his very heart echoing in her ears as they rang in his? A heart which, despite his mind and body's every effort, could not stop in its singing joy of having her back in his space. Having her scent surround him, stay behind where she had been.
His eyes hungered to devour every tiny detail of her- her hair, her eyes, her lips, the curve of her waist- even as he ordered them to tear themselves away. And it was a tearing, a physical ripping of any part of himself away from her.
Had she gotten thinner? Was she eating? Had she been able to eat? Did every mouthful also taste like cardboard to her? Did each bite scratch her throat as she tried to swallow it down? Her hair looked different. Her face had changed- no. It was still just as beautiful. Her makeup was different. Still his Anika. No.
Not his.
He needed to look at something else. Focus.
His watch? No. How long could he possibly spend distracted by his watch?
Think, Shivaay. Think.
A contract? Yes. He could turn the pages. Make it look like he was actually reading anything in front of him.
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Jerking away from her touch was almost instinctive.
Couldn't she see what her touch would do to him?
He had thought he was broken. Couldn't possibly break any further.
But seeing her again had taught him how wrong he was. She had managed to drag out that fragile, fractured, foolish part of him that he hadn't known he possessed before her. Had hidden away after her.
He had buried it. Forgotten it. But it lived. With her, for her... it breathed.
Music? She was dancing. Playing with him. His heart soared even as it shattered.
Couldn't she feel his heart breaking as she dredged up those beautiful, wonderful moments when his life had been joy? When she had been his. When he had been hers.
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She grabbed his cheeks. Her skin just as soft as he remembered, her touch the same. Still causing his heart to slam against his chest.
Couldn't she hear? Couldn't she-
He looked away.
Looked down at her. Her smile.
He blinked.
"Are you done?"
Enough.
He placed his hands around her wrists, careful Shivaay, don't hold on, pulled them off him. No.
Don't let your fingers linger. Don't hold on.
He let go.
Picking up his file, he walked away.
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He dreamed that night, as he hadn't dreamt in months. Her hands stroking his hair, her lips on his forehead, her warm body wrapping around his own. His heart at peace.
On that hard, cold floor, Shivaay Singh Oberoi had the best sleep he'd had since the day his Anika had gone away.
For it was only in those few seconds before he slept and in those wonderful moments of blissful ignorance when he awoke where Shivaay could admit that he was still her Shivaay, as he hoped against all hope that she was still his Anika.
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Who had placed this blanket on him? Anika.
No. Maybe his Anika would have done such a thing. Not whoever this was. This callous, calculating woman he did not know. Never imagined he would have to know.
Om.
Maybe Rudra.
Dadi.
But not Anika.
He could not let himself believe it had been Anika.
Just a few more hours, he told himself, a few more hours and he will have survived day one. After that, he'd survive day two. Three. Four... Forever.
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I haven't watched Ishqbaaz in so long. But I happened to catch the episode today (lol blame it on the fact that I should definitely be revising right now) and it just... well, inspiration struck. I hope you enjoyed reading this đ
Cricket
CID
