Silent Hearts

13| Thirteen

"He knew he was in love with her when her tears became the reason for his agony; when her smile became his responsibility."

***

The warmth that enveloped her melted into each nook of her body, dissipating the anguish of her soul into a mystical mellow, she had never known. The arms around her back felt stronger than anything as all her senses withered into emptiness. Nandini had been in the arms of him many times, yet this time, something felt unusual. There was something so warm in his arms, yet the frozen emotions spoke differently, there was something so right yet something that howled wrong. Something known, yet many things, unknown.

She let her body slack under the feel of the unsought warmth, her arms losing her hold on the rigid body flush against her, falling limp by her sides, as her eyes slowly opened, coming to meet a broad chest the next following moment. Suddenly, something caught up in the web of her senses. His smell. Why did it felt different? He never smelt such as that. He never smelt of woods, the warm flavour in him along with the distinct cedarwood tingled her senses as a prominent frown etched upon her face.

Nandini titled her head back, a little but then, looked down, afraid of looking at the man she, disgustingly crashed into. Her tired arms moved up until they reached the broad muscles around his torso, her palms flat against the sky-blue shirt. He was never this broad, Nandini thought, fear illuminating her dark, oblivious soul. Hesitantly, not wanting him to fade away with her dreams, Nandini lifted her gaze.

She gasped. Tushar, she mumbled.

No, no, no! What had she done? How could she? How could she not realise it was him, and not her love? That it was always him. How did she dare to hold onto him? She was never this desperate, then why? Contempt surged through her sanity as she shook her head, repeatedly as if trying to bring herself to believe it was only him.

She pushed herself from his warmth, her face red with anger on herself or humiliation, she knew not. Her hands shivered with the hate that unleashed through her depths. She watched as the man before her, Tushar stepped back, a guilty realisation tugged him back to reality, and his eyes widened, ever so slightly. His lips pulled into a thin line. The next second, however, Nandini glared at him as his mouth opened and then again, as if not believing the situation, he nipped on his bottom lip.

His confused stare roamed through the paths beneath the depths of her eyes, trying to understand her feelings. He stepped forward, his right hand pushing towards her as if in an attempt to comfort or push her, she knew not, but before his fingers touched her own, her hand yanked up and the next coming moment, her palms that, just minutes ago laid over his chest, came in a harsh contact with his left cheek, and the sound of her palms hitting his flesh echoed throughout the room, brushing the silent air around them with hurt and hatred.

Tushar remained before her, his face, unnoticeable to him, slightly was tilted to the right, as if the force of her slap shook him. His calm expression and his thin lips, and the way there was a tightness in his jaw, named his anonymous feelings she did not bother to read. Nandini saw the way his eyes never looked away from her eyes and a burning sensation of resentment brewed inside her with his straight gaze.

She took a step back, her fingers releasing from the tight fist. "You–" she began, her voice coming out in between the heavy puffs of breath she took, harsh yet low to her own ears. "Why, why had you allowed me to be–to come–" she gulped, her fingers again yet folding into another fist, "–near you?" The last part, however, came out in a note, lower than before, in a breathy mumble, as she felt the growing heaviness in her heart as ripped it apart, the hatred clawing at her tone, not unnoticed by him.