The Unventured Passions

The Warmth of her Arms

As the night crept in silently inside the RayBahadur Palace, bringing cold darkness along, Raimoti stood by the netted window with a small brass binoculars in hand, her eyes scanning every movement at the main gate, and the main road, as much it was visible.
Sarthaki had promised to visit her that night, and it was past midnight.
The scattered pieces of newspaper cuttings were now neatly arranged together, like a map, and it lay on her bed, while the discarded papers heaped in the corridor, beside her half closed door.

Sarthaki Babu had promised, then why?

Raimoti paced restlessly inside her room, her mind racing even faster, she needed answers and hence, she needed Sarthaki that night.

Around 1:30 am, letting a sigh out for the unbearable futile wait, Raimoti had finally settled in her bed with a book in hand. Sleep wasn't her best friend, and such nights were meant to seek truths, unfold mysteries, and not to hide behind the emptiness of closed eyelids.

Her thoughts were forming a vague shape infront of her eyes and that's exactly when a sharp sound of someone tramping overhead, on the terrace, made her sit upright, all her senses acutely aware of every possibility.
Raimoti quickly got down from the bed and shoved the paper cuts under her bed, and the moment she turned around to face the door, a pair of strong arms held her shoulders, and then pulled her close to the comfort of a broad muscular chest, with a ardent need.

"Sarthaki Babu??"
Raimoti gasped, letting herself surrender in his strong embrace at once.

Satyakirth hummed, and his grip around her body grew tighter, his face was now resting on her shoulder, and Raimoti suddenly was aware of the tender vulnerability that the sound that his heartbeat produced.
She didn't ask any further questions, nor did she try to move away. She just stayed still, as that was the exact need of that moment.
Satyakirth's embrace had become stronger than anything she had ever known, as if holding her wasn't quite enough, he had to feel every ounce that she was pressed into, every ounce that was her. In that moment of feeling, Raimoti felt so close to him that she felt awake, somehow, more alive than she had been in so very long. For there were times, despite her high walls she had built, she was as a butterfly who had yearned for the cocoon, to be safe within walls, protected. That's what she felt, that's what he made her feel. And, it helped, both.

"Raimoti, can I lay in your lap tonight?"
Satya's voice was wet, hoarse and Raimoti just rubbed his back slowly.

They stood still for another few minutes before Satya spoke again.
"I saw death today, up close, and all I could think of was you." His words were like a whisper and she squeezed the small of his back, making him feel her closeness.
"We won't meet after all these are over... I don't want you to see death."

Raimoti planted a soft kiss of assurance on his shoulder, that's where her lips had reached, and he slowly loosened his grip around her body, letting her pull herself away from him, gradually, their eyes locked with each other the entire time.

"That's for a debate Sarthaki Babu." Raimoti neared the door and latched it up.
"But, right now, I want you to open your shirt and sit quietly on the bed."

Satya suddenly was at loss of words. He swallowed, not sure what the say and how to react, and hence he decided to follow her command to the tee.

A sharp pinch made his face flinch as he unbuttoned the white shirt slowly and pulled it out of his body. Raimoti picked it up, examining closely the knife slash and the blotches of blood on it.
Her eyes narrowed, and glistened at the same time.

"Turn around." She ordered, pulling out a swab of cotton from the bedside drawer, and a small bottle of antiseptics along with it.

"Why would the doctor not treat himself?" She murmured softly, sniffing a tear back, her hands busy cleaning the darkened blood clot on his ribs and shoulder.