Rishi and Lakshmi One-Shot Compilation

A vow for retribution

He doesn't quite believe that she's left him until it's too late. He's standing surrounded by the world, yet his eyes search for her. A glimpse, a fraction of a view, is robbed of him, and he stands as a criminal to his own fate.

In her correctly placed cruelty, she denies him sight of her. He had not expected it, but her anger, her hate that radiated should have been enough of a warning. Perhaps one he did not pay heed too in his own selfish desire.

His father stands in the limelight, and watches him with an edge of indifference that strikes his heart harder than perhaps her absence did. He can hear the faint conversation, his father making another excuse to begin to explain his daughter-in-law's absence and yet, his eyes remain fixated to his son. The true offender.

He feels suffocated, and as he gasps for a breath to live, he sees the edge of her red sari fluttering; her back to him as she deserts him again. He wonders if she is but another fragment of his imagination, but as her sisters join her side, his hallucination changes to reality.

Malishka holds his arm tightly at the sight that she too catches, and he hears amongst the ringing of his ears, his father make an excuse for that too. He shrugs out of her hold, takes rushed steps forward and as his wife catches sight of him making his way towards her, she turns on her heel sharply.

His sister in law's regard him with pain. Do not call him by his title in their life, and at their hostility, he grabs for the nearest drink to numb the pain. His guilt amounts when he sees her stand uncomfortably in the corner, rubbing her arms consciously as she musters up the courage to smile to the guests that approach her, the Oberoi daughter-in-law. But the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, and he hates himself for being the reason.

He turns to back to the bar, a place he had long stepped away from and he pours himself a glass of whiskey for comfort. He brings the glass to his lips, hopes to find his redemption through the liquid but with a small sniff of it his eyes are forced to close, her disapproving gaze greeting him in high definition.

His eyes open frantically, but she stands just where he had seen her last, smoothing out the wrinkles to her crisp sari that she looks heavenly in.

He chucks the glass down, and stands, unknowing of his true direction, he walks until he's a meter away from her and he wonders if it's too late to turn back around, he decides to persevere despite the warning signals that sound in his head.

She regards him with practiced coldness, as if his presence is not setting her alight. He doesn't know why but the thought causes his heart more pain than he has ever known.

"Lakshmi." He breathes her name, like a prayer lost in translation. She passes a smile to the ladies who giggle nearby, but it is full of falsity and as she tucks her hair behind her ear, he reads her nervousness instead. The attention is never something she had been able to handle well, and as her eyes lower a fraction he cannot help but think she is beautiful.

The silence is louder than he can ever imagine as he waits for a response, and as his eyes beg for it, she turns to look him finally with ignorance and caution that has him gulping.

"Dance with me." He begs, and she like the Goddess she is, extends her hand as a moment of mercy in public. He pulls her closer, wraps his arm around her waist as tightly as he can manage without hurting her. Her chest rubs into his, and as her hand comes to rest upon his back, his eyes close. She says nothing, avoids his eyes as he leads her gently through the steps of a dance that he can barely remember the steps to.

"Lakshmi." He can say nothing but her name, does not know how to ask for retribution other than look at her, and she evades his eyes just as she evades with conversing with him. She spins herself out of his embrace in hopes of evading that too, but he does not let her, and as he pulls her into his chest, he watches as her jaw tightens.