Tales of SaiRat (Completed)

Kabhi Nahi_A SaiRat OS

Before you read, people, most of what's written below is from Sai's perspective and may or may not be the truth. It's just a way of perceiving matters.
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If you asked her to differentiate between the room she now sat amid and the life she had been living for the past few years or so, she'd tell you they're just the same; void except for a few things. Void of liveliness, of joy, of happiness, of love, of her... her Virat sir.

Neither was completely empty, though. The room had a single bed that lay in a gloomy corner of the room, a cupboard that lay at another corner, a window, between the bed and the cupboard, which remained closed throughout the year, a table and a chair which lay on the opposite corner, and a last corner at which stood a door that opened to a small bathroom. What it lacked, though was human presence, besides the woman who sat on the unmade bed. As for the life, it had misery, distress, painful memories, heartbreak, tears. What it lacked, though, was everything that made life worth living. Everything that motivated you when the merciless life threw hurdles in your way.

A few floors beneath this flat, music echoed. A music that suspiciously represented her life, but she wasn't listening or she'd have cried some more perhaps.

Her back facing the wall on the North, she took her white coat off and threw it away. It landed onto the chair, but she couldn't care less about it right now.

She lifted the only pillow on the bed and pulled from beneath it a photo frame. In there, in front of a background so cheery she couldn't bear it's radiance, stood the smiling figure of the man she had fallen in love with.

Why are humans so complex? she thought, pulling the photo a bit closer and tracing a smile she remembered so well that it hurt.

She loved him, and, somewhere within her heart, she knew he reciprocated her feelings. Yet none ever confessed. The barrier between them stood erect evermore, and none ever could do anything to destroy it. She saw it all. His advances, his gestures, his care, even his... his love. But he never affirmed it. He let her solve this mystery alone. Why? Why did he think she could realise his true feelings when he masked them for the sake of a promise?

Yet when the day came, when their deal expired, she waited and waited and waited for him to come to her and tell her he loved her. That she was more than a responsibility to him, that their relationship was more than a deal to him. That he wouldn't let her go, that they'd be together forever.

But that never happened. He never stopped her. He let her go. He set her free. She did not want this freedom! What's the purpose of this freedom when she was imprisoned in the past even now, and perhaps forever? What joy does freedom bring when it snatches away your love from you?

But was he the only one to be blamed? Why didn't she tell him she does not want to go? Why did she not take a stand for her love and let the barrier between them intervene as it pleased?

But it was a slightly better feeling, blaming others, wasn't it? Saved you from cursing yourself. From regret. If was better for the blame to rest upon someone else's shoulders.

She shook herself out of her daze and focused onto the photograph, and just like every day, the memories of the moments which had been so sweet that it felt she was in heaven, now pierced her heart so painfully. The once-beautiful memories now were forever scarred. They ruthlessly injected their venom within her and sucked her soul out of her slowly and steadily, torturing her everyday.

"Kyun kiya aapne aisa, Virat sir? Kyun nahi roka mujhe?" she questioned his photograph. Her eyes were dried and void of any emotion, she had shed enough tears to last her a lifetime. The photograph prolonged its enchanting smile and said no word in response, enraging her.