Wounds of the Heart (दिल के घाव)💔

73

A gentle knock on the door startled Manik from his reverie. He'd been lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, the luxurious guest room and its overflowing wardrobe a stark contrast to the simple life he was accustomed to.  He smoothed down the wrinkle on his chosen outfit – a simple, loose shirt paired with tailored pants, a look that felt both comfortable and stylish.

The butterflies in his stomach were back in full force.  Ansh's lavish gestures were undeniable – the private jet, the meticulously planned adventures, and now, this grand palace as their dinner venue.  It was far more than anything a simple fan or music enthusiast would do.  Manik couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope blossom in his chest.  Did Ansh feel something more for him too?

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Manik called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, revealing a young servant with a respectful bow.  "Hukum sa aap ka intezaar kar rahe hain," the servant said in Hindi, his voice soft.  (He is waiting for you.)

Manik's cheeks flushed a warm red.  The formality of the address – "Hukum sa" (master) – sent a jolt through him.  Ansh, the powerful Mr. Rathore, waiting for him?  It was a heady feeling, a stark contrast to the way his own career had stalled.

"Thank you," Manik replied, trying to sound composed.  He straightened his shirt one last time and followed the servant out of the room, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

As they walked through the opulent corridors of the palace, Manik couldn't help but be awestruck by the grandeur surrounding him.  Intricate tapestries adorned the walls, glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow, and the air carried the faint scent of exotic flowers.  It was a world away from the sterile hotel rooms and recording studios he was used to.

Finally, they reached a set of heavy double doors.  The servant bowed once more and stepped back, leaving Manik standing at the threshold.  He took a deep breath, his hand hovering over the ornate doorknob. 

What awaited him on the other side?  A delicious dinner, stimulating conversation, or perhaps… something more?  With a nervous flutter in his stomach, Manik pushed open the doors, ready to face whatever the evening held.

The opulent dining room unfolded before Manik like a scene from a bygone era. A massive mahogany table, laid with pristine white linen and gleaming silverware, dominated the center of the space. Crystal wine glasses sparkled under the soft glow of flickering candles that cast an intimate ambience. But it was Ansh, standing by a large window overlooking the moonlit desert, who truly captured Manik's attention.

Ansh was dressed in a regal white sherwani, the fabric intricately embroidered with silver threads. The stark contrast to his usual business attire only amplified his aura of power and sophistication. Yet, as Manik met his gaze, he saw a warmth in Ansh's eyes that softened the sharp edges of his demeanor.

"Manik," Ansh greeted, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Manik's spine. "You look… splendid."

Manik, momentarily speechless, could only manage a weak smile. The compliment, delivered with such sincerity, flustered him further. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak. "Thank you, Ansh. You… you look quite different yourself."

Ansh chuckled, a rich sound that filled the room. "A change of scenery requires a change of wardrobe, wouldn't you agree?" He gestured towards the table. "Come, let's not waste this delicious spread. I'm famished after our day of exploration."

As Manik joined him at the table, the initial awkwardness melted away. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and shared stories. Ansh was a captivating host, his knowledge of Rajasthan's history and culture weaving a rich tapestry around the meal. He spoke passionately about his love for music, his genuine interest in Manik's work evident in every question he asked.

Manik, emboldened by Ansh's attentiveness, found himself opening up more than he had in years. He spoke about his frustrations, his self-doubt, and the spark that Ansh had reignited within him. As he confessed his fear of losing his passion again, he found Ansh's hand gently covering his on the table.

"Manik," Ansh said, his voice sincere, "your music is a gift. Don't let anyone, not even yourself, dim its light. You have a unique voice, a story that needs to be heard."

The warmth of Ansh's touch sent a jolt through Manik. He looked into Ansh's eyes, their depths holding a newfound intensity. In that moment, amidst the flickering candlelight and the opulent setting, the lines between business and something more began to blur.

The meal ended with a shared dessert, a decadent chocolate cake that felt more symbolic than a mere indulgence. As the last crumb disappeared, a comfortable silence settled between them. Ansh rose from his chair and walked towards the window, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his figure.

"Manik," he said, his voice a husky whisper. "There's something I need to tell you."

Manik's heart pounded in his chest. He stood up, his own voice barely a whisper as he replied, "Ansh… me too."

The air crackled with unspoken emotions.  In the heart of this magnificent palace, under the watchful gaze of the moonlit desert, Manik and Ansh were on the verge of a revelation, a moment that could change everything. 

Would their confessions bridge the gap between them, or would the weight of their unspoken desires shatter the fragile connection they had built?  Only time would tell.

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