Seductive Scars ∘ AbhiMaan ∘

-ˋˏ 8 • Armaan •ˎˊ-

❝I plead remorse, words falling like a seductive whisper, 

Irrevocable deeds echo, a silent, fiery lisper. 

No need for words, just a relentless desire, 

In your arms, my only pyre.

No battles sought, no fleeing from fate, 

You're my sole craving, sealing my state. 

Forgive me, love, for sins undisclosed, 

I'm yours, consumed, no redemption proposed.❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I try to shut the front door softly, as quietly as I can, so I don't wake Abhira up if she's passed out. Our loft is small, and the walls are thin, so you can hear everything in here. I stop in the foyer, setting the duffle bag and my luggage down and look at the living room.

The room is mostly gray, just like the city. There's a paned glass mirror above the long sofa and black and white accents everywhere. 

I hated that mirror from the moment we got it, but Abhira loved it, so I never said a word.

My eyes scan the room in the faint light from the city that's shining through the gap in the curtains. Five years of marriage, six of creating this place together. 

Each piece of furniture is a memory. 

The wine rack that we purchased was the first thing we bought together. 

The gray sofa with removable pillows was a fight I lost. 

I didn't want the cushions to be removable because they always end up sagging, but Abhira insisted the brand was quality.

The plush cushions still look like they did in the store, and I wonder if she was right or if it's just because we don't even sit on the damn thing. I'm never here, and she's always working. What's the point of it?

The bitter thought makes me kick the duffle bag out of my way and head past the living room and dining room, straight to the stairs so I can get to bed and lie down with Abhira. 

It's been almost a week since I've slept in the same room as her, and I refuse to let that go on for another night. I pause to look at the photos on the wall.

They're all in black and white, the way Abhira likes her décor. All but one, the largest in the very center. It's also the only one that's not staged. She's leaning toward me, and her lips look so red as she's midlaugh, holding a crystal glass of champagne and wrapping her fingers around my forearm. 

Her eyes are on whoever was giving a speech. 

I don't remember who it was or what they said, but I can still hear her laugh. 

It's the most beautiful sound.

She was so happy on our wedding day. I thought she'd be stressed and worried, but it was like a weight was lifted, and the sweetest version of her was given to me that day.