Cradling her fragile form in my arms, I observed her unconscious state with a mixture of concern and pity. Her face, usually marked by the weight of her struggles, now bore an unexpected tranquillity, as if she were a child peacefully slumbering, unburdened by the troubles of the world. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil that lingered in her past and the torment etched into her present. As I carefully manoeuvred her onto my lap, the juxtaposition of her vulnerability against the backdrop of her traumatic history struck me with a surge of compassion. She resembled a Disney princess, an unsettling beauty in her repose, much like the fabled character who captured the prince's heart even in a death-like slumber.
A sense of sorrow enveloped me as I contemplated the unfairness of her experiences at such a young age. Pity welled up within me, and yet, the urgency of unravelling the mysteries shrouding her past compelled me forward. I needed answers, and for that, I needed her to wake up. Gently placing her on the couch, I fetched a glass of water, intending to rouse her from the unconscious realm. A few droplets sprinkled on her face yielded no immediate response. Frustration knitted my brows as I pondered the next course of action. She stirred slightly, squinting her eyes in response to the water, but remained in a state of semi-consciousness.
Sighing with a tinge of exasperation, I contemplated my options. The idea of shaking her to prompt a more profound awakening crossed my mind, but the memory of her flinching at my proximity dissuaded me from such an approach. Resorting to another round of water droplets, her eyelids fluttered open, a breath of relief escaping me. Mindful not to startle her, I withdrew, giving her the space she seemed to need. The room held a hushed tension, suspended between the desire for answers and the delicate task of navigating the fragile terrain of her consciousness.
"You're awake," I uttered softly as she stirred on the couch. Confusion clouded her gaze initially, her eyes scanning the surroundings in a state of disorientation. As her eyes finally landed on me, a kaleidoscope of emotions erupted within them, each flicker telling a story of its own. In that fleeting moment, I sensed a myriad of sentiments swirling within her. The most pronounced among them were anger, a searing flame that danced in her eyes; sadness, a heavy shadow that cast a pall over her features; and an unmistakable thread of hatred, an emotion that seemed to be directed squarely at me.
The convergence of these emotions created a complex tapestry, a storm of conflicting feelings that played out vividly in the depths of her eyes. It was a gaze laden with unspoken pain and a history of unresolved turmoil, leaving the air charged with a palpable tension that lingered between us.
"Get up, Vaani," I barked, the impatience in my voice slicing through the air like a blade. Her eyes, a tumultuous swirl of emotions, met mine with a challenging glint. Dismissing her defiance, I pressed on, "You need to answer my questions. Tell me everything, and don't you dare miss out on anything. Continue from where you stopped before you fainted. I need to know, Vaani. Now, spill it. What happened next?" Uncompromisingly, I grabbed her by the arms, yanking her from the couch. Despite her shivering and the reflexive flinching at my touch, I forced her to sit on the sofa. Ignoring her discomfort, I stood over her, a silent demand for compliance etched in my demeanour. The room hung heavy with tension, my insistence cutting through the air as I awaited the unwinding of the tale she had kept hidden.
YOU ARE READING
Aawaz- The Unheard Sound
RomantikVaani:- "Ye kya kar rahe aap, hum gir jaayenge! Niche utaariye humein. Aan, put me down." In a surprise turn of events, she didn't even realised what she called him. Aanvik:- "Don't ever call me that, only my family members are allowed to call me by...