As the morning sun ascended, casting its golden glow across the room, Ahalya stirred from her slumber. Glancing at the bed beside her, she noticed that Nisha was still peacefully asleep. However, the absence of Ashwath prompted her to rise from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate.
With practiced ease, Ahalya gathered her unruly locks into a neat bun, securing them with a deft twist. Stepping out of the room, she embarked on her search for Ashwath, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. She checked the hall and the washroom, but he was nowhere to be found.
Her quest led her to the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of freshly cooked breakfast greeted her. There, amidst the gentle sizzle of the skillet, stood Ashwath, fully engrossed in his culinary task. Dressed in his casual attire, he wielded a spoon with practiced precision, flipping dosas with expert finesse.
A piece of cloth draped over his shoulder hinted at his meticulous attention to cleanliness, a testament to his dedication even in the simplest of tasks. Ahalya couldn't help but smile at the sight, her heart warmed by the love and care he poured into their morning meal.
"Good morning," Ashwath greeted warmly, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.
"Morning. It's fine, Ashwath. Why don't you take a day off?" Ahalya suggested, concern evident in her tone.
"My mother never took one," he replied stoically, his sense of duty unwavering.
"It's Sunday today. I would have prepared," Ahalya insisted gently, hoping to persuade him to rest.
"You freshen up. I'll make you some fresh dosas," Ashwath offered with a small smile, his determination to care for her evident in his words.
"How long will you hold the pain inside, Ashwath?" Ahalya's voice was filled with concern as she watched him.
"Nothing like that," Ashwath replied, his tone dismissive as he focused on the task of cooking.
"Look at me," Ahalya insisted, her gentle touch turning his face towards her.
"Go freshen up, dear," Ashwath said softly, his voice betraying the emotions he tried to conceal.
Ahalya gently held his face in her hands, her eyes pleading with him. "Ashwath, stop fighting yourself, please," she implored, her words laden with emotion.
Ashwath took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the effort to control his emotions. Turning back towards the pan, he flipped the dosa skillfully, his hands moving with practiced precision even as they trembled with suppressed tears.
" Ashwath!" Ahalya's voice cut through the air, commanding his attention. Her eyes glistened with tears as she locked gazes with him, her voice soft but insistent. "It's okay, Ashwath. Cry it out."
Ashwath's eyes welled up with tears, but he fought against them, his body tensing as he struggled to contain his emotions. He ran his hands through his hair, his movements erratic, his breaths coming in rapid succession. Clenching his teeth, he tightened his fists, refusing to let the tears escape. "I'm fine," he forced out through gritted teeth, his lips pressed together in a tight line.
But the dam broke, and tears began to stream down his cheeks despite his efforts to hold them back. Each drop was a release, a testament to the pain he had been carrying inside. Ahalya enveloped him in a comforting embrace, her words a soothing balm to his wounded soul. "It's okay to cry," she whispered, offering him the solace he desperately needed.
Ashwath's tears flowed unchecked, his body racked with silent sobs as he trembled uncontrollably. He struggled to form coherent words, his voice choked with emotion as he repeated the mantra, "I'm fine, I'm fine," his words a desperate attempt to convince himself more than anyone else.
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THE END
Action" What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." -T.S. Eliot In the enigmatic town of Kshaya lurks a figure shrouded in infamy: SHAITAN, the most wanted criminal whose true id...
