𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊
In a world where love can be both. Beautiful or destructive force, the Raghuvanshi brothers hide behind the cold facade guarding their heart from the pain of love.
"Just because you are my wife and we share a bed d...
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• S H I V A N SH •
The more I try staying away from her, the closer I land. I had made up my mind that I Won't let her bother me, I won't let her affect me. And I'll stay away from her.
But who am I kidding?
Every attempt to distance myself only seems to tighten the invisible threat between us.
I've become an expert at averting my gaze, at schooling my features into careful neutrality. But it's exhausting, this constant vigilance. Every fiber of my being wants to turn to her, to seek out the warmth of her eyes, in the curve of her smile.
The silence I've imposed is a fragile thing, threatening to shatter with each breath. Words crowd my throat, accusations, pleas, declarations but I swallow them back, afraid of what might spill out if I let my guard down even for a moment.
I tell myself That maintaining this distance is the only way to protect what's left of my heart. But in the quiet hours of the night, when sleep eludes me and the house settles around us, I can admit the truth.
I miss her. Desperately. Completely. The ache of her absence is a constant companion, even when she's just beside me.
I notice everything now. The way she lingers in doorways, the forced casualness of her movements when we occupy the same space. I feel her eyes on me, searching, questioning. And it takes every ounce of willpower not to meet her gaze, not to cross the chasm between us.
Because what then?
What if I reach out and she pushes me away again?
What if this fragile peace we've constructed crumbles, leaving us both in ruins?
So I maintain a facade. I bury myself in work, I retreat to my study. I come home late my steps heavy with the unspoken words and unfulfilled longing
Because that's what she wanted. Maybe this is our future.
The thought settles like a lead weight in my stomach. Is this truly what she desires?
This cold war of averted gazes and carefully maintained distance?
This is what she wants?
Didn't she feel the spark and something between us?
All the thoughts were too consuming. I myself was confused about what I felt for her. Without talking to her, looking at her, I knew that it was something beyond attraction, but…
But what? The word hung in my mind, a dangling thread I was afraid to pull. I found myself replaying our interactions, searching for clues, for some sign that she felt it too.
The uncertainty was maddening. One moment, I was convinced that what we had was special, undeniable. The next, doubt would creep in, whispering that I was fooling myself, that she had made her choice clear when she pushed me away.
