His Burden, His Blessing

Petty Queen

I drove home, my mind replaying the events of the past week. Ishaani had been distant, cold, and... different. Ever since that party, something had shifted. She no longer gave me notes, kisses, or any semblance of warmth. Even her lunches, which she once prepared with care, now seemed thrown together, half-hearted.

I should have been relieved by her silence, but all I felt was a gnawing unease. I wanted to confront her, to ask why she was pushing me away, but each time I tried, I held back. There was a stubbornness in her I didn't understand. And somehow, I hated it and loved it at the same time.

As I pulled into the driveway, the smell of spices hit me immediately. My brows furrowed. Ishaani had been cooking. For whom?

"Hmm... smells good," I murmured as I stepped into the house, still in my scrubs from the emergency surgery earlier. My eyes scanned the kitchen. Biryani, chicken 65, payasam, my favorite dishes, all meticulously prepared.

Ishaani was there, her back to me, busy at the counter. I wanted to smile at her, to thank her, but the memory of that dreaded week held me back. I turned away, my lips tightening, my anger and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

Then the doorbell rang.

I furrowed my brows. "Who's here?" I muttered.

Ishaani opened the door, and my eyes immediately landed on him.

Siddharth.

Casual in a white t-shirt and track pants, yet effortlessly confident. My heart sank.

"What the hell is he doing here?" I asked myself aloud, my jaw tightening.

"Sid wanted to taste my cooking, so I invited him over," Ishaani said casually, smiling as she led him inside.

My fists clenched. Cooking for him? Sitting with him? Laughing with him? All the while, ignoring me? My stomach twisted.

We all sat down to eat. Siddharth chattered casually, laughing at Ishaani's jokes. And I watched in silence, my mind a storm. The food was amazing, yes, but the sight of them together, her laughter, his easy smiles, was unbearable. She served him first, made sure he had enough, and barely glanced at me.

I could feel my teeth grinding. Why is she like this with him? Why doesn't she care about me anymore?

I wanted to speak, to claim her attention, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I focused on my plate, on the food, on anything to keep my composure.

When Siddharth left, I felt a fleeting relief, but it was immediately replaced by anger. I watched Ishaani clean up with a calm precision, a small smirk playing on her lips as if she'd already won some invisible battle.

"You seem too close to him," I finally said, my voice sharper than intended.

"So?" she replied, not even looking at me.

"So? Now you finally speak?" I snapped, frustration boiling over. But she ignored me, rolling her eyes, leaving the room like I wasn't even there.

I exhaled, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I can't keep letting her do this. I need to act, to show her but even the thought of confrontation made me hesitate.

After lunch, I felt restless. The air in the house was heavy, and Ishaani's silence weighed on me more than I cared to admit. She didn't speak, didn't acknowledge the way I had treated her, didn't even glance my way beyond the minimal courtesies.

I needed to get out, clear my head. "I'm stepping out for a bit," I told her, keeping my voice neutral. She just nodded, her expression unreadable, and returned to cleaning up the table.

I didn't bother explaining where I was going. It wasn't meant to hurt her. I just couldn't face her yet. The thought of our silent tension made me feel guilty and restless all at once.

Tanisha had called earlier, asking if I could help her get familiar with the city. I had agreed, it seemed harmless, and I needed a distraction. Now, as I drove through the streets, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down. The city lights flickered past, unfamiliar faces rushing by, and yet I couldn't shake the thought of Ishaani, sitting at home, alone, waiting, wondering.

We started with the small streets near the hospital, then made our way to the markets and local eateries. Tanisha was curious, enthusiastic, asking questions about the history of buildings, the best food spots, the quirks of city life. I answered, guiding her around, showing her hidden corners only locals knew.

For a brief moment, I almost forgot the guilt gnawing at me. Tanisha laughed at my jokes, marveled at my knowledge, and for a moment, I felt... competent, appreciated, even admired. But then my thoughts drifted to Ishaani again.

She deserved this attention, care, and company; not me showing someone else around while she sat alone. My heart twisted with the awareness that I had been so selfish, so blind.

By the time I dropped Tanisha at her apartment, dusk had fallen. I could have called Ishaani, but I didn't. My phone was dead, and every passing moment made me more aware of how much I had neglected her.

Driving back, my mind was consumed with one thought: Ishaani deserves better than this. She deserves my honesty, my presence, my respect. And I vowed, silently, that the moment I stepped through our front door, I would do everything in my power to make it right.

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