Some random scenes I wrote tell me what you think. Kartik POV!
One~ Kartik reflection on naira talking to him
Two~ What if Naira moved back into goenka villa fake pregnant...
Really short I know but I do love writing. I just don't have that much time...
~ONE~
Kartik listened to Naira talk on, incredibly aware she had no idea how much he yearned to hear just the sound of her voice itself, the tone, the texture, the pitch... she was giving him a detailed report of what anmol and mansi had told her recently. It reminded him of the past, he would spend hours just listening to her talk about anything and everything and still not feel content. And her hands-always the busiest tool she used to express herself-were motioning and measuring, thin fingers pointing, marking, making those delicate circling movements with a twist of her pale slender wrists that were so achingly familiar to him.
It made him want to hit something. Because the sound of his name falling from her lips and the hand movements might belong to Naira from before, but nothing else about her did. Not the priggish hairstyle, nor the dowdy clothes, nor the expression in her eyes-which should be animated while she talked but was as dull and flat as the tone of her voice. The old Naira was a vivid bright fireball of energy. This one was still shocking him by her stillness, her lack of passion for anything.
~Two~
Kartik shuddered and despised himself, that was not a new feeling to him. He ached with such desperation that it physically hurt when he thought of her leaving him again. It was easier when he knew nothing. It was easier to assume that she was wrong. It made it easier for him to cope with the violent loss he felt of her presence in his life. It made it easier for him to meet her wounded gazes when ever she looked at him. Never in his life had he accepted a lie so easily as the one that had brought her back to him. In front of him. He found himself, going to his room repeatedly everyday leading up to Anmol and Mansi's wedding to double check if she was, really there. He woke up at midnight and checked then too, again to see if she was really there sleeping in his bed. He would sometimes find himself busy with a client on his phone and completely loose track of the conversation at the sight of her. Even in her dowdy clothes and hair style, with slumped shoulders and flat eyes, she somehow made those clothes look beautiful on her and distracted him. When he would not find her, he would go back again to their room and stare at her unpacked suitcase almost willing it to unpack itself.
Soon she would leave. Again. No lie, no truth nothing would bring her back to him. Nothing would tie them together, not love, not anger not hate. Everything would be over with that single thought, he found it hard to breath.
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