Broken I

38

ARNA

I found myself staring at Hridhan's WhatsApp profile picture, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. It had only been a two days since I last saw him, but it felt like an eternity.

This distance I am trying to create between us is driving me crazy, and I couldn’t continue with this charade any longer.

I was done pretending, done with overthinking my every move and plan. For once, I was going to let my heart take the lead.

"Mam, left aa ?" the driver asked for confirmation, breaking my reverie.

"Illa na, right," I corrected him, and he smoothly took the turn.

As I neared our place, my heart began to pound like a freight train. I tried to calm myself, but the closer we got, the more my nerves took over.

I was about to see my husband, yet my emotions were all over the place. Why was my heart racing so much ? I am not going to see any lover in secret.

I stopped the car a street away from our apartment and decided to walk the rest of the distance. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying me faster than usual. Each step heightened my urgency.

Finally, I reached our door. Without a moment's hesitation, I knocked, my impatience evident in the rapid tapping of my fingers against the wood. My breath was shallow, my heart pounding louder with each passing second.

In that brief moment of waiting, I realized just how much I had missed him, how much I needed him.

The door opened within seconds, and without a word, I threw my arms around him. His warmth enveloped me, calming my racing heart. He slowly caressed my back, grounding me in that moment.

"I missed you so much," the words slipped out before I could stop them.

He chuckled softly, and I pulled back, looking into his eyes.

"Enna ?" I asked firmly, curious about his amusement.

"Onnu illa, baby," he replied, his tone gentle.

"Missed you nu sollunga," I demanded, folding my arms across my chest.

"Missed you," he said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Baby nu yaru solluva ?" I asked, my tone teasing but my eyes serious.

He smiled wider. "I missed you so much, baby," he said, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Nejama miss panningala ?" I asked, still nestled in his embrace.

He nodded, his head resting on my shoulder, and I could feel the sincerity in his gesture.

Love isn't about words; it's about actions. If these lines are true, then Hridhan is the perfect example.

I don't easily believe in love, but if it exists, Hridhan deserves all the love in the world. His actions spoke volumes, more than any words ever could.

He didn’t just say he missed me; he showed it through his tight embrace, his gentle touch. In his arms, I found a love that was real and undeniable.

Maybe it exists or it doesn't. who knows ?

"Enna senjinga ?" I asked excitedly as I pulled back.

"Dosa than, baby," he replied with a smile.

"Dosaiya ?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Vanga vanga sapdalam," I urged, dragging his arm towards the kitchen.

"Iru, ma. Un bag eduthu ulla vekkalam," he reminded me gently.

I suddenly realized I still had my bag slung over my shoulder. I shook my head at my own forgetfulness, quickly pulled it inside, and locked the door.

"Vanga," I repeated, pulling him along with renewed enthusiasm.

"Dress ellam eduthu vekkalaya ?" he asked, glancing at my still-packed bag.

I shot him a look. "Ippo athu mukkiyam illa, Hridhan," I replied, wincing and making a face.

"Seri, baby," he said, pinching my cheeks lightly.

"Cutie," he added with a chuckle, as he took out the dosa batter. I hopped up onto the counter, with a usual help from Hridhan, and sat watching him.

"Na cutie aa ?" I asked, swinging my legs as he started making dosas for me.

"Ama," he said, concentrating on the dosa.

I pressed my lips together, trying to control the involuntary smile spreading across my face.

I watched him work, his movements sure and practiced, and felt a warm, contented feeling spread through me.

Hridhan’s simple, caring gestures made me feel more loved than any grand declaration ever could. The smell of the dosa cooking filled the kitchen, mingling with the feeling of being home.

The grand hotel is nothing without him.

"Hridhan, ungaluku onnu theriyuma ?" I asked excitedly.

"Ennathu, baby ?" he responded, looking curious.

"Neenga than oru cutie pie," I admitted, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

"Yen ma ?" He winced slightly as he placed a perfectly cooked dosa on my plate.

"Nejama than, Hridhan. Na sonna namba mattingala ?" I said, breaking off a piece of the dosa and feeding it to him while I took a bite myself.

He chewed thoughtfully, then turned back to the stove, pouring more batter. After a moment, he turned towards me, his eyes soft and earnest.

"Nee poi sonna kooda nambuven. Unmaiya namba matten aa ?" he asked, placing his hands on either side of the countertop, leaning in slightly.

I blinked, the weight of his words settling over me. It was something I needed to hear, something I had craved without even realizing it.

Trust. Belief.

Memories of a darker time surfaced. I still remembered telling my mother about my ex-husband's abuse. I had cried on the phone, desperate for her support, but her response was cold and dismissive: "Stop lying, Arna."

But here was Hridhan, offering unwavering trust, something I had longed for.

I ended the call with a bittersweet smile. My own mother didn't believe her daughter's words. Some things are hard to accept, but we have to, right ?

I did. After that, I didn't tell my mother anything. Not about the scars I got every day, nor the pain I was enduring.

"Thank you," I said, quickly stuffing the dosa into my mouth to hide my trembling lips.

He looked at me curiously, but I pointed at the dosa, prompting him to turn back and focus on cooking.

Maybe I will give a chance to myself this time.

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Will try double update today 👍🏻