The Exilir And The Poison

Chapter 12: A Rapid Fall

The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.
~Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women

The day was far too quiet for his own good. The world must have slept too long, too much at this hour in the morning when the sun peaked right after a storm that had bruised his nerves a night before. The sunrise was glorious! Purple, orange, and red shades deepened their colour as night shadows fused themselves in the warmth of the sunlight, blending together to the rhythm of the breeze that gently tossed the trees. Ranveer looked around himself, watched the empty house, devoid of a living thing. His heart sank.

Suddenly, a voice broke his thoughts. She smiled at him, his own lips forming a smile that matched the brightness on hers. The warmth was more prominent, the glow of the sunlight more than just a patch of light lightening his bedroom. It was a heaven. However, simultaneously, an unknown emotion found him alongside, unprepared. In fear, he gripped her hand, uncertainty tightening its claws around his chest, feelings sprinkled across an empty canvas, trampled on. His heart clenched, fear rose, and emotions began to consume him. He tried to remember the detail of the previous day but his mind was blank.

Through his almost-closed eyelids, Ranveer saw he was stuck in a cell that smelled of loneliness, an anguish that trapped him, wounded him the moment he made an attempt to move. How could it be? He was married to her. He called out her name but only silence was his answer. There was Ritika, holding the child in her arms, her gaze pinning him, questioning him of the things he had no answers of. And then, Ishaani appeared. Ranveer was in the middle of a room, surrounded by a plethora of the mirrors, throwing back his own reflection at him. His white clothes were soaked in blood as it rained hard. Ishaani giggled from the distance, mumbling her cruel words at him which he tried to dodge but in vain.

Oh, how much could he endure?

His eyes pleaded her but she was adamant and unmoving. He couldn’t make out her sentences but the exchange of the words was very well-known to him. He knew too well what she was saying and why.

Ranveer held onto the side of a mirror, its sharp edges making his skin bleed, but it was so much better than everything else he had been feeling. Ishaani disappeared, the image replaced by someone else.. He couldn’t remember the man.

The man declared his wedding with Ishaani. Ranveer’s eyes searched for her once again, the thought of Ishaani leaving his life unbelievably painful, but in response only a faint laughter reached him.

He must have woken Ishaani up, because he found her caressing his forehead, mumbling the words of comfort. He was awake. The night shadows had drifted apart. Either it was the same night or many had passed, he did not know — Ranveer was locked in a cell again. This time, the anguished unleashed a monster that wreaked a havoc that burned both heaven and hell, the fires marching and marching to the infernal heights of the closed room, suffocating him, killing him. He saw blood dripping through her wrist, fully aware he had caused the damage, yet he stood remorseless in the shadows. The water that drowned him — or was it the fire? — soon consumed him again, the monster burned down, but he soon realized it wasn’t the lack of guilt that grappled him — it was the excess of it. For the blood in veins boiled and roared, matching the crimson of the fires and he went down willingly.

It was another nightmare! Ishaani was beside him. He breathed easy, thankful that she wasn’t awake this time. The thought of him hurting her was unbearable. The thought of him making her bleed, dear God, he would rather kill himself! But now the nightmare had passed. She smiled at him in her sleep as though she secretly knew he needed that smile to haul the long walk of life. Oh, he loved her. She was the woman who had taught him everything. From love to what life was. She was the colour of his blood, the muse of his art, and the warmth of the sunlight. She was the kite drifting away from him and he was the thread beckoning her back to him. All the time.