Grief: My Sciamachy- OS Collection

4- Underwater

UNDERWATER:

'Wo kehta hai ki wo mujhse pyaar karta hai. Par agar pyaar itna painful hota hai, toh log iske peechhe kyun bhaagte hain? Pehle bhi toh pyaar karta tha wo mujhse. Agar yeh pyaar hai, toh wo kya tha? Agar wo pyaar tha, toh yeh kya hai?'

Koel crumpled the paper up, flushing it down in the toilet. She stood up, gasping in pain as her cut up feet protested to the action.

She stumbled to the sink, washing her hands. She winced as her wounds opened up, leaking blood onto the floor.

"Baby", a voice called, and her stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot.

"Aayi", she called back. "One second." She stumbled to the door, unlocking it and opening it. "Haan, baby."

"Chalo, na", he said, smiling at him. "Movie night?" She forced a smile at him, nodding.

"Chalo", she said, gesturing him to lead.

The smile dropped as he turned, and she followed him.

He had an infectious smile, making her smile whenever he smiled. At least, he used to. Now, she wanted to wrap herself in bundles every time he quirked his lips up, dread clenching her stomach. Same smile when he put medicine on the wounds he had given her.

He snaked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer before starting the movie. She watched the frames pass by idly. They didn't make too much sense.

Nothing seemed to, anymore.

It was like... her head was under murky water and she couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't see. But she could feel. The panic, the pain, the fear, the helplessness. She could feel those clearer than she has ever felt them.

She stood up as the credits rolled, forcing a smile on her face robotically when Abhay smiled at her, following him to their bedroom. She laid down, listening to him talk about the movie, nodding where it was appropriate.

She stared at the ceiling, watching the fan spin. He was sleeping. Wasn't he just talking? If she thought hard enough, she could remember his eyes drooping sleepily, him reaching over and switching the tube light off and switching the night lamp on.

She wasn't supposed to feel that detached from everything. She was supposed to enjoy the movie, enjoy the talk and snuggle to her husband and sleep peacefully. She wasn't supposed to lie at 2 in the morning and watch the ceiling fan.

She got out of the bed. The floor was cool beneath her feet, and she exhaled, feeling a shiver tingle down her spine. It hurt the scabs on her feet, but the pain jolted her awake.

She paused at the photos, her eyes landing on the middle one. Her wedding. Their wedding.

She was... happy. In love. Was she too much in love to see who he really was? Or was she the metaphorical frog who couldn't jump out of the cauldron because it couldn't tell the gradual change of temperature?

No, she wasn't the frog. The frog lost.

She wouldn't.

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