What If He Didn't Die?

Chapter 28: A Mistake

(Flashback contd...)

Time has a particular natural speed. 60 seconds make one minute, 60 minutes one hour, 24 hours one day, and so on. That is how it should always work.

But it doesn't and it didn't.

"... Easter Eggs."

The moment I heard those words I was thrown back, literally, as if the land under my feet had moved, and the next few seconds, or maybe minutes, went by at phenomenal speed.

Or perhaps, nothing had accelerated at all. Maybe everything seemed to go by quicker because I had stopped, unlike the world around me.

When I froze, the flower pot didn't. It continued to savour its free fall. I was confused and nothing was in my control.

The big heavy pot was about to hit my toes and grind them into a fine paste when I was pulled out of my space. I watched the clay pot hit the floor and shatter into multiple pieces with soil scattered all around it. The noise was dangerous to hear and only then, did I realize what kind of harm could it have done to the car that now stood unharmed just two feet away. Or to me, had I not been pulled back in time.

When I finally loosened my stiff frame and my nerve cells started operating again, I realized my surroundings, which were nothing other than two muscular arms styling fancy dark tattoos all over them.

Shit.

The moment things made sense to me, I pushed myself out of his grip. Every single centimetre of my skin that he'd touched, was blazing in heat. I looked up at him to find the same infamous cold eyes staring down at me.

What was the first thing that I felt at that moment?

There's no honest answer to it. Because there was no such single word to describe it. It wasn't one thing at all. I felt multiple things. Numerous familiar sensations and infinite unfamiliar ones.

For one thing, I knew that time had suddenly decided to slow down on me contrastingly and mercilessly.

My skin was burning everywhere he'd touched when he pulled me out of the pot's way. It should've been burning with anger and disgust. But that wasn't it.

My skin was burning with desperation and need. As he still stood just inches away from me, I could feel the heat his body radiated. The same heat that put my skin that much on fire. This was the first time his skin had touched mine after that wicked night.

Damn it. It was the first time we'd been so close in so long. My skin had almost given up on the hopes of feeling his on it ever again.

This sudden unannounced encounter hence, ignited a fire in me and all it asked me to do was to jump in his arms and stay there until my skin felt like his, but the cold look in his grey eyes was enough to stop me from doing any of it.

I stayed stuck on my spot.

While I still felt on fire by his touch, his eyes were shooting ice daggers at me and the resulting pain was unknowningly and indescribably unbearable.

His cold eyes blamed me. For so many things. Stealing the warmth away from those eyes and his life, being one of them.

The resulting guilt was something no one deserved to ever feel, but I didn't let it show on me. Hiding the extremest emotions was one thing I'd become used to in the past few days. The talent turned out to be very handy in the situation but the moment was far from over.

Although, amidst all those daunting feelings, there was a ray of hope. Easter Eggs he'd said and I couldn't stop hearing it. He'd called me by the nickname he gave me. Even after all that had happened. Even after all this time.