Seductive Scars ∘ AbhiMaan ∘

-ˋˏ 9 • Abhira •ˎˊ-

❝So helpless and yearning, 

I don't merit the remedy. 

Shrouded in deceit, the fuel that sets me ablaze. 

Quell the verity, let passion reign, 

I'll succumb to the fiery thrill. 

Enfold me tight, I won't defy. 

Yours to ravish, yours to thrill.❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I don't know what I'm more ashamed about as I toss the throw blanket over the sofa and make myself get up.

The fact that I fucked my husband.

Or the fact that I then refused to go to bed with him.

Not that I told him that. I hid behind work and then snuck out here, to the living room. I didn't sleep on the sofa for more than a few hours. 

Maybe that's what I deserve for being so weak and falling right into his arms the moment he pulled me in.

It's like a spiraling dark hole and I'm falling deeper and deeper, to the point where what I want and what I'm feeling don't make sense and nothing adds up.

I couldn't possibly feel more pathetic at this point. 

And it's because of him.

 Because I love him and hate myself for it.

I glance at my phone on the dining room table as I make my way to the kitchen. I already know what Sue would say. She'd feel sorry for me for going back to the man who cheated on me.

Pity and sorrow for the pathetic girl, clinging to an unfaithful man. Even the bitter thought echoes what I feel.

The thing about love though is that it's not a light switch. You can't just turn it off. You can't erase the memories and move on. She knows that much, she just chooses to forget it.

My head throbs and I'm not sure if it's from the lack of sleep or caffeine. Even the faint sounds of city life from stories down are enough to make my temples pulse.

I groan as I rest against the wall of the living room and try to calm the headache. I close my eyes and feel the weight of all the stress from the last two weeks.

I need aspirin or coffee. Or both. My heart sputters as I slowly walk up the stairs, knowing Armaan's lying in bed alone and that it was my choice.

As I pass the office I remember last night and my thighs clench; I can still feel him inside of me. I can feel his lips on my neck, his rough hands on my body. Taking from me. Relentlessly, possessively. Each step brings my body temperature higher and higher, yet my heart hurts more and more.

Why won't the pain just go away? Why can't my head just shut the fuck up so I can pretend I'm okay for just a moment?

The bedroom door is open and as I walk through the door, I can't take my eyes off the perfectly made bed. The cream and white comforter with black dahlias is pulled tight, looking pristine. A crease forms in the center of my forehead as I walk to the bathroom, listening to my heart beat with each step, but finding the bathroom empty. Armaan wasn't downstairs, I think as I open the cabinet and silently grab the bottle of aspirin. He wasn't downstairs, and he's not up here.