Her Nightmare | 18+

| Surviving the Crash |

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DEVANSH

As I stepped out of the hospital with Pari, I intended to suggest she take the back seat, but she preempted me and settled into the passenger seat.

Suppressing my frustration, I took a deep breath and instructed the driver, "Keys." Without hesitation, he handed them to me and promptly stepped aside.

Turning towards PA, I remarked, "Send any important files home." With that, I settled into the driver's seat, preparing to fasten my seat belt. However, as I reached for it, my hand accidentally brushed against Pari, causing her to tense up noticeably. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I accelerated away from the hospital premises.

Driving requires my full concentration, especially when I'm struggling to contain my emotions. Despite my desire to focus solely on the road, I couldn't ignore the tension in the car. Pari's tight grip on her seatbelt indicated her discomfort, prompting me to ease off the accelerator and slow down, hoping to alleviate her unease.

As we drove, Pari gazed out of the window, lost in her thoughts. I decided to lower the window to offer some distraction. The moment I pressed the button, Pari turned towards me with a startled expression.

When she's surprised, her eyes widen in disbelief, and it seems like my presence only adds to that sense of astonishment. Contemplating this, I found myself growing increasingly annoyed with my own behavior and its impact on her.

As we pulled up to the house, Pari quickly made her way inside, leaving me to gather my thoughts in the quiet of the living room. As I sank into the sofa, the weight of the day's events settled heavily upon me. Pari's absence was palpable, and I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air.

After a few moments, Pari reappeared, now clad in her uniform. The sight of her in that familiar attire stirred up a storm of emotions within me. Mix of anger and frustration surged through my veins, but I struggled to articulate any of it.

Pari busied herself with dusting the dining table, seemingly unaware of the tension hanging in the air. I mustered the courage to approach her, my footsteps heavy with the weight of unsaid words. But as I neared her, she instinctively took a step back, her eyes darting nervously away from mine.

My attempts to communicate with her had been met with silence and avoidance for far too long. The frustration boiled within me, threatening to spill over at any moment. In a sudden fit of rage, I seized a vase from the nearby side table and hurled it to the ground.

The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the room, mirroring the chaos that had consumed my mind. Pari looked up, her eyes wide with shock and fear, as I turned away and retreated to the solace of my room, leaving her to confront the aftermath of my outburst.

As I sank onto my bed, the weight of my actions from that night bore down on me like a suffocating burden. The memory of my reprehensible behavior sent shivers down my spine, filling me with a profound sense of dread. The words uttered by Pari echoed relentlessly in my ears, each syllable a sharp reminder of the pain I had caused.

Unable to face myself in the mirror, I avoided my own reflection, opting instead to bury my head in my hands. The shame and guilt washed over me in relentless waves, threatening to drown me in their suffocating embrace. It was this overwhelming sense of remorse that had kept me away from home for the past week, unable to confront the consequences of my actions.