From the Point of Three

chapter 6

It was 10:36 am when akira woke up. Her feet took her to the kitchen where she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Sucking the water in she closed the door, which was bare except a single note that read:

𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠. 𝙎𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮!! 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 (𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙠) 𝙗𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙮 5𝙥𝙢.𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡!! 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

Re-reading the note she finally felt the emptiness of the apartment. She took a large swige from the bottle she was holding. Before bee lining to the bathroom where too half of belongings belonged to her. As if she lived here.

After having kayra's well prepared hearty 'cereal breakfast', she cleaned up, grabbed the only thing she brought with her, her small bag.

Taking a deep breath she stepped out of the apartment, locked it and descended the building. Reaching the parking lot she tried to remember where she parked her car last night.

Getting in the car, she knew what she was doing and already hated the idea but her pathetic side wanted to go home. Maybe the pathetic facet of her was more dominant than the rational one.

She started the engine and pulled out. The next thing she knew was her standing at her door step.

Akira had never trembled so much in her life before, standing in front of her own door, it was just 6 minutes away from noon.

She couldn't predict what would happen next, "what will he say, maybe his temper might be cooled down by now or what if he'd be more mad?" she was thinking all of it out loud while her hand feverishly search her bag for the keys. Why was it taking too long, maybe a part of her didn't want to go in if he's still there.

Maybe he'd be past out drunk but she knew that's impossible cause he never got drunk, not even once, everything was supposed to be measured if its going in his stomach.

Akira could picture him sitting on the couch waiting for her again. But why was him waiting for her felt unnerving, this isn't what it's supposed to be like right?

Grabbing hold of the bunch of keys she hesitated before pulling it out. The cold metal against her skin felt the same as last night's cold streams hitting her body.

Those keys felt heavy in her palm like all the gravity is focusing on one tiny object drawing it to the ground. Her hands couldn't handle it's weight and it finally slipped through her finger. The metallic thud and following echo rang through the empty hallway.

A weak breath and she bent over. Picked it up. Her hand still feeble she turned the key in the lock. Bracing herself she opened the door and was greeted by the stillness of an empty apartment.

A wave of relief washed over her as she walked in straight to the couch where he was last night. All of a sudden she lost all her strength and dropped her bag on the floor and herself onto the couch.

She landed on something hard, she hissed in pain. Her hands snaked through the plush cushions searching for the culprit.

It was her old album. Not too big and not too small. Purple leather, thick pages filled with countless memories. She flipped through pages travelling to different parts of her own life.

Her days when everything was going good with her parents. Her first day of school, first painting of kayra, all of her birthday celebrations with kayra on different rooftops, all of kayra's birthdays with her. Every single thing they did together. All of it captured by kayra and documented by her.

Her eyes caught a group picture from college, the time when they had to work on a group research with randomly chosen colleagues and he was there.

Just by looking at that single picture she travelled back in time like the couch was her time machine and that album was the remote.

Now she was nineteen trying to make it to the roof top of the university without passing out on the stairs. Kayra was waiting for her on the top.

A voice from behind stopped her ascend. It was him. The voice that was foreign for her at that point of time. She turned around and he was there.

Both his hands clutching on both straps of his backpack somewhat in a flustered way.
But the half smile amd half grin on his face had nothing nervous about it. The curve of his lips was a combination of mischief, awkwardness and shy confidence. It was charming. His eyes had a certain gloss that can outshine the summer sun.

She was dazed or was it exhaustion from climbing two whole flight of stairs? Yes the step count doesn't seem much but it was like encountering hell for her burning calves and air deprived lungs.

He kept on staring until she broke the silence with a single, " Yes?"

"Oh yes!?" He seemed to wake up from some dream. Running his right hand through his straight dark hair or was it his left hand. He pulled out a thick, brightly tinted book and offered it to her.

"I heard you like art so...," he had a look that said he practiced these lines a lot but was still struggling with what comes next, " I brought an art book for you, i hope you like it, he paused, gulped and continued, " and like me too a little." His eyes averted and were back in a split second searching something into her's.

But akira's eyes travelled from his face to the book he held for upteenth times before he blurted, "happy birthday!"

"Thank you," Her lips formed a small shy smile.

"Will i see you around?" His right brow arched.

"Sure," she resumed her ascend again, but something stopped her, turning back she saw him still standing on the same spot.

"Your name?"

"Ishaan Palve" his caramel eyes has a shine to it.

"mm hmm, Akira Roy," she pointed to herself.

"I know," he grinned , "see you tomorrow."

He left climbing down the stairs and she was back on the couch again of their empty apartment that they used to call home once upon a time.

She shuts the album as her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. She blinked it back,would she ever have days without tears?

Getting up still holding the album close to her heart, she walked to the large bookshelf he built for books he never read. He just loves to own them. Placing the album of forgotten memories among the forgotten books.

She knew he doesn't love her anymore, but she also knew she can never accept this fact.

Why can't she let go?

She know he was hurting her but she'd rather have him with all the pain he caused than yearn for his love.

It was hard to let go of someone for whom she once fought against her parents, Kayra and the world. And now she fights with her own self to just be with him.

She left the shelf and looked around for any clue he left of his whereabouts or when was he going to be back which he has a habit of never leaving.

Accepting her defeat she first went to her studio thinking maybe art will help but stepping inside felt overwhelming and exhausting.

She just went back to her room, to her bed, under the covers she searched for solace and let sleep embrace her fragile conscience.