VEER AGNIHOTRI
Hidden in the shadows, I rise unseen,
A ghost in their army, cunning and keen.
Forming my own from the wreckage of the past,
My father's gone, but I'll find him at last.
She steps back into my life, a spark from before,
But darkness...
A/N: The bonus chapter from Our Beautiful Love is the prologue here. I have rewritten it and you may skip it, but please drop a vote as a token of encouragement. Thank you 💜
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"I can't do this anymore..."
"I do love you very much, but it was never how you love me."
"I hurt you, I know, and I hope you'll forgive me one day."
Never.
Neither will I forget nor will I forgive.
It's been one month, two days, and yet I haven't moved on. Daddy said this embittered anger would fade in a couple of weeks, so maybe I'm just another pathetic heartbroken teenager to hold a grudge but I don't fucking care.
He hurt me. He hurt me in the worst way.
My boyfriend broke up with me for my brother.
Hilarious, right?
We'd been together ever since we stepped out of our diapers. Then, suddenly, he's attracted to my asshole of a twin. However, according to him, he has always (unknowingly) felt drawn towards my brother who is proudly gay. By now, I should've accepted his homosexuality and got over it like a mature best friend, but I just can't!
Having spent seventeen years of my existence with Ishaan, I've fallen in love with him every year with the dream of marrying him one day, when we'd be ready. I'd dreamt of having babies and growing old with him and that he'd live longer than me... We shared our first kiss and took each other's virginity, and as messy and awkward as the moments were, they were special nevertheless. Every moment with him was special; memories to treasure for the rest of my life.
Why did Ishaan choose Randhir over me?
Why can't he love me the way I love him?
I'm tired of crying till my throat becomes sore, my eyes sting and my head starts to hurt. Tired of pretending okay when all I want is to scream at whoever tries to console me. Except for Daddy. He's rather more comforting than Mommy. Never once told me that I was overreacting or being insane. "You're normal; so are your emotions," he'd said, patting my head. His words mean everything to me, sometimes law, sometimes motivation, but they're always all but reassuring. He's not only Daddy Dearest but also my closest friend who knows every secret. Not that I have a jar of them, anyway.
Instead of returning home after the lingerie photoshoot, I take a cab ride to the nearest beach. I love going to the beach at night, though Mommy officially hates it, and that's exactly why Daddy accompanies me every time, unlike now. I take off my flat sandals, walking barefoot on the soft, cold sand. A breeze pushes my long hair in front of my face, so I tuck it behind my ears. The waves of the never-ending, Persian blue ocean crawl to the shore, leaving their mark on the sand that instantly yearns for their return.
