Someone To Love

8. understanding.

Daksh opened his eyes to the dim light around him. He had slept fairly well last night, the medicines had worked. His head did not hurt as it did yesterday, his hand was under physiotherapy and he was very grateful to have opened his eyes to the world today. His mind automatically muttered the small prayer that he said every morning, and he was fairly surprised that his body remembered to do that after the coma.

He had taken to believing that everything in his life may have gone wrong after he failed to move his arm yesterday.

But noticing that his body still functioned especially his brain, he was relieved.

As he tried to adjust to the surrounding light, he felt tiny breaths of air on his hand. Struggling, he turned his neck to his left, the sight ahead making everything come to a halt.

There she was.

Sleeping by his side and holding his hand as if her life depended on it, he could see the pretty black strands of her curly hair falling on her face. She looked beautiful, the dim white light creating shadows on her face, yet making it stand out. Her face reflected her innocence, expressing everything she felt. She was one of the very few people he knew who conveyed everything through their eyes and facial features and he was blessed to have noticed it. Many times when she would open the fridge to find it stocked with her favourite, a smile would make its way on her face. And even though she tried hiding it, when her eyes met his, she failed miserably.

A failure that brightened his day.

She was extremely shy around him, and even after weeks of marriage, every time she saw him, she would first look away.

It took her a while to be accustomed to his presence around, every single time, and Daksh chuckled, remembering her face and flushed expressions.

And here she was, clutching onto him, so close to him.

They did not share rooms, for obvious reasons. He did not want to come off as a creep, so he offered her her own private space, her bedroom. And even though a huge part of him wanted her to deny it and just say that she would be fine sharing a room with him, she did not.

He did not know what it was between them, between the stolen glances, the subtle touches of hands, the waiting up for each other and having dinner together, the shared housework, the small talks that made their way through the comfortable silences, one thing he knew was he wanted her to be relaxed.

No matter how his mother felt about her, or how they have labelled their marriage as an escape from their own families, she was still his wife.

His wife.

Butterflies.

He cursed himself as he could not move his hand to remove the hair strands troubling her, and no matter how hard he tried, he just could not do it. Her hold on his hand slipped and her palm fell, instinctively causing her to make a frustrated sound. He could see her adjust her shoulder and neck without even opening her eyes, and after a couple of seconds, she held his hand and fell asleep.

Again.

For any other person, it may seem very normal but for Daksh, it was beyond something. This simple act of affection, the trust she showed without even seeing him, the very basic act of holding his hand, did something to his stomach.

God save him.

His thoughts were broken when she suddenly jerked up, her hair all over her face. She ran her palms through her face, brushing all of the strands away, and oh boy, they were just as stubborn as they could get. They came on her face again, blocking his view, and she let out a frustrated sigh, holding all of them together before tieing them up using a rubber band on her wrist.