IshRa OS: In your arms (June 1)

A soulful voice boomed in the room, as the song traveled to his senses, jolting him awake.

Under the dim lighting of candles, he found himself in an unfamiliar place as he slowly opened his eyes, with the scent of roses and something else filling his nostrils. It took him a minute or two to ascertain his belongings and gather himself up, as he felt the weight of something heavy leaning across his chest. He adjusted his neck to take a closer look, when his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

It was her, the woman whose haunting memories haven't let him obtain one moment of peaceful sleep these past seven years, but who was now spreading her arms across his chest as if this was routine.

This was routine, he grudgingly admitted to himself, until it just wasn't, until she went away, so so far away.

A glance at his sleeping beauty, and he could not stop himself from staring, as if he was filling his cup of love just by looking at her.

Where were they? How did they come to this point?

She was in his arms, yet she wasn't. He wanted to hold her tight and never let her go, yet he could not. The pain they shared was far too brutal for them to even try going past it.

It seemed a part of another lifetime in a parallel universe, when he had her in his arms, in another hotel room, with the flickering candle flames casting long shadows on their intertwined selves. When he kissed her for the first time, when she held him close enough to hear his heartbeats. When he held onto her in his sleep, even as she drifted away to speak on the phone. When she clasped his fingers in her sleep, as he blew on her face trying to tuck that culprit strand in.

He hadn't slept soundly in years, and yet he had not been more peaceful than in this last one hour.

He was home. Her arms were his solace, and he was finally home.

There had been no simpler truth in his life.

This woman, who brought him back from the skeleton he had once become.

This woman, who pushed him into the abyss of darkness by obliterating her presence from his being.

This woman, who broke his guard once.

This woman, who built his walls again.

This woman, whom he loved to hate with vengeance.

This woman, whom he hated to love with reverence.

This woman, was his home.

No matter how much he tried to run away from her, no matter how much they both hurt each other, but never had anything felt so right in these seven years than these stolen moments, with this woman. This drunk, crazy, hurting, fighting madrassan who entangled his heart in her cobweb once again and ended up gifting him the comfort he had always known.

He looked at her deeply, drinking in all her features lest she magically disappear the next second. She had become more beautiful, if it was even possible to improve perfection. With those curls she had acquired, and the bold, colorful saree she was wrapping her curves in, the sparkling addition on her shapely nose, his personal Aphrodite, one he could worship day in and night out.

His right arm, over which she placed her head with those beautiful curls fanning across her gorgeous face, acted of its own accord, and placed his hand on her back. Unknowingly, his fingers began tracing patterns on the buttery smooth skin that he had come in contact with after so long, that it brought on a physical ache in the pit of his stomach.

"Ramannn... Sone do na please!"

He froze. It felt like a dream. It was a scene he had replayed in his mind over and over again all these years. He had wrecked his imagination thinking about how it would feel to tease her one more time, and how would she respond to his touch. Turns out, his imagination did no justice to the heavenly reality he just experienced.

She uttered his name. In her drunk, sleepy form, she uttered his name.

Did she remember his touches as vividly as he did hers?

She did, otherwise why would she call out to him the way she just did?

Did it mean... she still belonged to him? As he belonged to her?

It did not matter. Right now, here, in this instant, all that mattered was that she was in his arms, like she was always meant to be, that he was holding her, like he was always meant to be. Everything else ceased to hold any significance as long as he could envelop her in the folds of his heart.

In her presence, he had no control over his mind, body, heart and soul and just for this night, he wanted to stop fighting with himself. He leaned in and brushing her loose curl aside, pressed his lips on her temple long enough for her to take notice, and hug him tightly.

A lone tear tried to escape from the corner of his eyes, only to be caught and wiped away, as he lightly brushed his lips with hers, savoring the taste.

What could have been theirs forever vs what actually did come their way.

He raised his left arm to check what time it was.

03:12 AM.

Four hours before he lets his anger and pain take over his heart once again, before the world as he loved crumbled once again, and the steel walls resurrected stronger than ever. Four hours to hold the love of his life in his arms once again, before she goes away hurt by his venom spewing tongue, and their truth as they know it changes.

Four hours of fantasy before the reality hits.

Four hours of being, in your arms.

Hugging her back, he drifted off to sleep, as the song that started it all, neared its end.