"I am so sorry, Ambika," Rudraksha choked out, his voice thick with emotion. With trembling hands, he withdrew, his eyes downcast as if he could not bear to meet her gaze. "I... You don't deserve this," he continued, his words laced with anguish. "Y...
As Ambika's gaze fell upon Rudra, her heart skipped a beat at the sight before her. There he stood, a vision of strength and grace, his tall frame exuding a quiet confidence that commanded attention. The soft glow of the room accentuated the contours of his chiseled features, casting a mesmerizing aura around him.
Draped elegantly over his shoulder was a beautifully designed Pashmina shawl, its intricate patterns adding a touch of sophistication to his attire. Beneath it, he wore a simple yet striking black kurta, the fabric clinging to his form in all the right places, emphasizing his masculine physique.
Ambika found herself captivated by his presence, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight before her. His every movement seemed to exude a magnetic allure, drawing her in with an irresistible pull. In that moment, she felt a stirring within her-a rush of emotions that she struggled to comprehend.
"I will go and take a shower," Rudraksha announced.
Rudra's unexpected declaration sent a ripple of confusion through Ambika, her brow furrowing in concern. "Why? You'll catch a cold," she protested, her worry evident in her voice.
Ignoring her protest, Rudra continued on his path toward their bedroom, his gaze fixed ahead as if lost in thought.
"I went to the Manikarnika Ghat," he added.
(Manikarnika Ghat is one of the river Bank of Ganga in Varanasi, it's also a cremation ground)
"Why?! Who died?!" she blurted out, her mind racing with a multitude of possibilities.
Halting in his tracks, Rudra turned to face her, their eyes locking in a moment of intense connection that left Ambika breathless. In that charged silence, unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air, a silent exchange passing between them.
"No one, I went there to meet a friend" Rudra replied softly, his voice carrying a weight of reassurance as he sought to ease her concerns. Ambika nodded in understanding, though the lingering tension in her features betrayed her lingering apprehension. Why would someone go to a cremation ground to meet someone's friend?
With a final glance, Rudra continued on his path toward the bathroom, disappearing behind the closed door of their bedroom.
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With a heavy sigh, Ambika pushed herself up from her seat, her movements deliberate as she made her way to the kitchen. There, amidst the familiar clatter of pots and pans, she began the task of setting the table with the dinner she had cooked. Yet, as she worked, her mind wandered to a place far beyond the confines of their small apartment.
Lost in thought, Ambika couldn't help but reflect on the significance of the meal she was preparing. The soup she ladled onto their plates had once been a favorite of her abuser-a haunting reminder of a past she had fought tirelessly to leave behind. And yet, here she was, a decade later, serving the same dish once more-but this time, it was not for him, but for the man she loved with all her heart, Rudra.
