Seductive Scars ∘ AbhiMaan ∘

-ˋˏ 7 • Abhira •ˎˊ-

❝Within, a searing strength I keep concealed, 

Yearning for desires, fervently revealed. 

Eyes shuttered tight, a torrent held, 

Unspoken truths, in passion swelled. 

Declared strength, a charade, a scorching lie, 

In the flames of deceit, I willingly lie.❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Armaan never texts me when he's working, but he did tonight, and I can't take my eyes away from my phone because of it. My body's still, and my focus is nonexistent when it comes to work. He messaged me. He reached out to me. I can't explain why it makes my cracked heart splinter even deeper. Maybe I wish he'd just be cruel and not try or not care. It hurts so much more to think that he's trying.

I've learned over the years not to expect him to message me or call, not to worry. To trust him and to look for a message in the morning. He always messaged in the morning. I've always thought it was cute how he'd text me to tell me good morning, even if he was only just then getting into bed. 

But it's 2 a.m. in London, and my phone's lit on the desk with a message from him.

I was finally getting some work done. Focusing and managing to write up some feedback and create a marketing tactic for a client. Half of me doesn't want to answer him. I don't want to look and go back into the black hole of self-pity. But I can't resist.

My hands inch toward it, the need to see what he has to say overriding the anger and the sadness. The need to be wanted by him and to feel loved winning out over my dignity.

I hate it when you're mad at me.

I stare at his message, feeling my heart squeeze tight. My fingers hesitate over the keys as I read it again and again. Before I can respond, another message comes through.

Forgive me.

And that's the crux of the situation.

Forgive you for what exactly? I message him back without even thinking. Whatever he's hiding is bad, I know it is. I can feel it deep down in my core. Whatever he's done is enough to ruin us.

But we were already ruined. In my gut, I can feel it. We've grown apart. We're different people now. We don't belong together. We never did really.

I have to get up and move. Even if it's just to walk through the house. I'm only in a baggy shirt and a pair of socks. I wore the shirt to sleep last night and I should really shower and get dressed. It's a rule I've had since I started working from home.

I dress as if I'm going into the office. Well, I used to. Right now I just don't have the energy. Armaan sends two texts, one right after the other as I walk to the kitchen.

We can work through this.

I love you.