Seductive Scars ∘ AbhiMaan ∘

-ˋˏ 5 • Abhira •ˎˊ-

❝Whispers of farewell ignite a flame, 

Deeper desires that dare not have a name. 

In the dance of longing, our bodies conspire, 

Fueling the passion, setting souls on fire. 

I may resist, yet the craving persists, 

A seductive flood, in your touch, it exists. 

Fight or flight, a futile run, 

The dance of damage has only just begun❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

My eyes feel bloodshot. They burn just from the cool air as I finally sit back down in my office. I'm always here. I never leave this room unless I have to.

And when I do, I bring my laptop with me. Workaholic is a word for it. I'm not sure that even does it justice. I gave up everything for this. 

It's why I came to New York. 

It's why I spent years in the publishing industry, making contacts and creating a brand that's recognizable. 

But I do it on my own.

While Armaan stayed the same, and carried on with a life that was a fun distraction, I've buried myself in work. Growing farther and farther apart from my husband. 

Ignored friends ... at least I didn't have family to ignore. 

Other than Armaan.

I rub my eyes again and try to soothe them, but the darkness is all I can see. It begs me to sleep. I desperately need it. I can't even read an email right. My meeting with Jacob is next week. I spent an entire hour sitting mindlessly in the coffee shop on my own before I bothered to check the time and date.

At least the coffee was comforting. But the rain was coming down in sheets, and any sense of ease was gone by the time I dragged my ass back home to an empty townhouse.

My shoulders rise and fall as I take another look at the screen. The black and white is too harsh and I almost shut the laptop down and give in to sleep, but my phone goes off, scaring the shit out of me.

Armaan. 

It's my first thought and I hate how my heart sinks when I see it's not him. 

It's his father. 

In my contact list, it still says Armaan's parents' house. 

It's the house phone in Armaan's family home.

Marie gave the number to me the night I first saw her, so she could call me about next Sunday's dinner, all those years ago. Every time I see it, Armaan's parents' house, I'm reminded that only Henry remains.