UNWANTED

CHAPTER 27 - P86.15 - LIZAVETA

That night I slept alone with Jazzy's head on my tummy. I was so determined to not cry, to bottle up the emotions slowly bubbling up to the surface.

Who was I kidding, believing Zabdi even for a second? Ilyaas was not going to change his mind and I had to live with that; the life of unhappiness he has condemned me to.

I snorted at myself. I was already condemned to that when Upapa died, or maybe even earlier than that.

I bit my lip to keep the sobs from making any sound. From what I could hear, I was sure Zabdi was outside my door. He was trying to be silent, but I recognized his breathing. He eventually decided against knocking and left.

Setting him free was the last act of love I would let him have of me. I just wished he would have had the same level of love for me to do the same. But no, he had to try to dictate who I'd marry. As if pointing in a direction away from him wasn't enough, he wanted to push me to the direction of someone he liked for me.

Did he have no mercy for me at all? Didn't he know that every day he tried choosing the right man for me was a daily reminder of him not choosing me?

I had no one else. No one.

I refused to believe anyone else would be able to accept me as he always had. No one had seen so much of me and stayed.

But it was my fault, wasn't it? I redefined his acts of kindness as acts of desire... maybe the image of him I had in my mind was nothing more than a figment of my lonely imagination.

And I clung to each tiny piece of him he gave me like a lifeline.

Who cared about the scars on my back? Ilyaas hugged me, nevertheless. Who cared about what they said about my hair? Ilyaas kissed my head despite it. Who cared about the dark places my mind went? Ilyaas only ever saw me in the light.

But at the end of the day... who cared? Even he didn't.

To him, we still lived in a world where convention mattered so much more than emotions. Or maybe, to him, there was none. Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was just me and the desperate need to be loved that fooled me into thinking he loved me at all.

No one loved me. Not even him.

How unfair it was... running away from loving him was like running in a circle. Every step away was a step towards.

Jazzy brushed against my chest, chuffing.

So, this was a broken heart. Pitiful. Lamentable. I had other, greater things to fail at. This was a mere inconvenience.

I wished I had the strength to pick up the shards of that damned heart and stab him with it. But even picking them up would cut me first before it cut him.

He didn't care if it cut me.

And so, I cried into the soft fur of my only companion, awaiting the sun to rise in New India, where I would spend a day trying to replace the only person I'd ever loved.

×+×

I was dressed in an anarkali when I descended from the train, wrapped in the starkest white, embellished in Kashmir sapphires and gold.

Out of all the people who barely knew me, Adee knew me enough not to send me rubies at least. I didn't want to keep lugging around a piece of fabric around my shoulders so instead if the expected saree, I was handsfree.

Still, it was heavy around my shoulders, the jewels adorning my head almost forcing me to bow. I kept my head up though, finding a balance, welcoming the sun and fog.