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This chap is affectionately dedicated to thesunhater -
🖤✨
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"Do not underestimate your heart
It's been played, stabbed, cheated, and broken, but somehow it still works...................."
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The house was shrouded in darkness and silence when Vatsal finally returned home, much later than expected. The weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on him. He was sure everyone had gone to bed, or so he thought. But as he approached the front door, he noticed a faint light seeping through the living room curtains.
Inside, Shubhita had been unable to find any peace since the morning’s heated arguments. Her mind was a tumult of worry, anger, and confusion. She had wandered through the house, replaying the events over and over, unable to settle. She couldn’t shake the unease that gnawed at her, the uncertainty of their future hanging over her like a storm cloud. Her heart raced every time she thought about the harsh words exchanged, the tension that had filled their home.
The moment Vatsal barely touched the doorbell, the door swung open, revealing Shubhita standing there, her eyes wide and searching. He was taken aback, not expecting anyone to be awake, let alone waiting for him.
Their eyes locked, and in that instant, a flood of unspoken emotions surged between them. There was a desperation in their gazes, a silent plea for understanding, for connection. Yet, there was also a barrier, a chasm created by the recent events that neither knew how to bridge.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” Vatsal said softly, his voice tinged with guilt and surprise.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, her tone clipped but betraying her concern. “Did you eat anything?”
He shook his head, his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. “No, nothing.”
“Wash your hands and come to the table,” she instructed, her voice firm but gentle.
Vatsal complied, feeling a mix of relief and confusion at her care. He had expected anger, maybe even coldness, but her concern caught him off guard. When he returned to the kitchen, he saw her at the stove, rolling out fresh chapatis. The sight struck him deeply. No one had ever done this for him before. If he missed a meal, he would be served cold food stored in casseroles and containers. Even his mother had always done it that way.
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