Chronicles Of My Darling Husband | ✓

150. Aarambh

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"Nishita..."

Nishita's mind was a whirlwind trapped in a skull. The chaos within her was overpowering, each thought colliding with the next in a turbulent sea of confusion.

Jagdish! Her Jagdish's voice...

Each time she had closed her eyes, she had seen his face—a light in the storm, yet a constant reminder of the gaping hole in her world. It was his voice she craved, a threadbare comfort she clutched in her dreams. Days bled into one another, measured only by the growing intensity of the pain in her heart. 

Yet, beneath the crushing weight, another ember flickered—a desperate hope that mirrored the love that still burned fiercely within her. Did he feel its warmth too? Did he yearn for her touch with the same aching intensity? The questions echoed in the hollowness of her being, a relentless chorus that demanded an answer.

It was a profound love that felt like a physical wound, a gaping maw that only his presence could heal.

"Nishita..."

Why did it sound so real? Was her mind playing tricks on her, weaving delusions that felt so vivid they blurred the line between fantasy and reality?

A flicker of delirious hope ignited in Nishita's mind as her eyelids fluttered open. There, bathed in an ethereal glow, stood a figure that couldn't be real. Jagdish, his beautiful brown eyes—molten pools of love that defied the harsh light of day. A dream, perhaps? Or a cruel hallucination conjured by her yearning heart?

It had to be.

Yashoda had confirmed his self-imposed isolation, a fortress built to keep everyone out, even her as he forgot that she was waiting for him. Each night, tears had been her only companions as she grappled with fate's cruelty. Finally, she had grasped the true meaning of love, the joy of being cherished by Jagdish. But with that epiphany, their child had vanished, and now, it seemed, so had he.

"Wifey..."

Her hand reached out, to caress the face that shimmered before her, a figment woven from love and loss.

As soon as her fingers brushed against his skin, her eyes widened in disbelief, and she instinctively pulled back, a soft whimper escaping her lips, "Jagdish?"

His murky orbs glistened with unshed tears. "Yes, my love."

Nishita blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as she struggled to sit up. Ignoring the prickling discomfort, she reached out, her hand trembling as it cupped his face.

He was there; it was real.

Warmth seeped through her palm, a tangible confirmation. Relief morphed into a searing anger. With a choked cry, she lashed out, a stinging slap echoing through the room.

Jagdish flinched but remained silent, his gaze a mixture of sorrow and understanding. The dam within her burst—tears streamed down her face as she struck him again and again, each slap punctuated by a heart-wrenching cry of his name. Her strength ebbed, and she collapsed back onto the mattress, drained. But before she could sink further, a strong arm encircled her.

Nishita recoiled, lashing out with renewed fury. Her cries, a torrent of pain and longing, filled the room. Jagdish held firm, a silent anchor in the storm. He absorbed her blows, her tears, and her pain.

Silence stretched between them, a heavy, suffocating blanket. Eons seemed to pass before Jagdish spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Nishita, I... I don't know if forgiveness is even a possibility. But..." He trailed off, his eyes pleading. "Can I just...be your home again? Please."