dead girls don't love [dgdl]

chapter 30 \a

IVANYA COULD NEVER KILL ANYONE; the way she was, she had rather had husband of hers murder her whole or piece by piece like he had continued to for five years. This became an oddly familiar routine for her.

And it was not how he physically trampled her beneath his feet, but how he destroyed her so much mentally that all she was left was a afraid, hopeless and unalive woman; a broken mess.

It is a pity or maybe worth a celebration that she had realised it only now, or two weeks after her birthday when she had received another bouquet of lilies like she always did; she had realised that love was nothing like what she was given, that love nowhere meant being bashed against walls till white skin turned violet or pierced until red blood gushed out black.

Love never lay in the meaningless I love you's that were chanted to her, not even in the mellifluous sweetness whispered into her ears.

Not at all in the several bouquets of roses given to her when all she felt were thorns pricking her.

And there was no reason to believe that it lay in the lilies gifted to her. But only if the hope that, if love lay somewhere, it was in those plain white and purple lilies she had been gifted.

This time, too, like every year, she had lied through her scared guts that they were sent by Ashna, her sister.

And while she had decorated those ordinarily plain flowers into a vase, she could not help the smile that made way on her worn face.

She had always deluded herself and in delusion, she had continued to live. Lilies were her favourites and she had gone through worse when she had lied, "I like roses better now."

Then, she had never wondered that the worst would come too soon until she saw it and felt it on her skin and bones.

When she was held by hairs until the stinging brought tears into her eyes, screeching until her throat became sore, thrown into things until her bones gave way, bashed against walls until nothing could be seen, dug nails into skin until she was marked, bruised and bled such that nothing more than her aching breath was left alive in her body.

And when all of that was done by the very man she had chosen for herself cause she loved him until her heart shattered into pieces that could never be stuck, she knew no love existed and that hell was nowhere but in the arms of the man she loved.

Only, in the arms of the man she loved.

Now, she was waiting for a beginning, not realizing it was going to be the end but maybe, an end was what she desperately needed.

As everyone does, sometimes.

Ivanya missed her sister, one she had not seen for so long; it was only with her, she could feel a little at peace and yet, it was her who avoided her. Ivanya understood and still, it hurt.

This time, she did not even come on her birthday and Ivanya felt no right to persuade her, not even for the suppressed fifteen minutes she usually did.

So, Ivanya just bit back her tears yet again, something she has grown an expert of. Her words had bothered her the first time they were said, and only now did they start to sink into her frozen mind, little by little. "Maybe it's thorns which you like better."

She loved her husband, one hell of a rich man who hid himself under the facade of an angel and every night the devil in him rose, he seemed like he was someone else. Sometimes, even mornings were tinted black with his presence.

But that was that.

Shekhar was too handsome, so much so that she was lost in his light eyes like nothing, nothing dark on her skin was his painting.