Naina looked up at her husband, her eyes brimming with tears. She wished she could just wake up from this nightmare.
"It's okay, Naina. I'm here for you. I'll help you move on from him. It's okay," Zayne comforted her, drawing closer. "I'm going to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Naina
It had been two months since I last saw Zayne and poured out my darkest secrets to him. We still talked on the phone, but neither of us brought it up again.
I started seeing a new counselor. She was different—understanding yet strictly focused. Our sessions hardly ventured into my past, except briefly during our first meeting. When she asked about my goals, I told her I wanted to move on from Advik and find myself again.
She guided me through coping mechanisms for when thoughts of returning to Advik crept in or when I had panic attacks. She had me identify and document my triggers, then practice my responses until they felt natural. She asked me to write down one thing I was grateful for each day and to perform a daily act of kindness that offered no benefit other than inner joy. She also encouraged me to set one short-term goal and one long-term goal, and we worked towards them together.
Gradually, the flashbacks faded. I hadn't experienced a panic attack, nor had I broken down in the past two months. I was finally doing well; I finally felt like I was going to be okay.
"Naina, were you able to get leave for Onam?" Zayne asked me one day.
"Yeah," I replied. "I have five days. What about you?" Time off wasn't a big concern for me, as my official graduation would be delayed and I wouldn't be eligible for subspecialty exams this year.
"I have six days off," he said. "Let's take the train?"
I nodded in agreement. The train would take us 9 hours overnight, while a flight would only take 5 hours but would eat up daylight hours.
Finally, the departure day arrived. Zayne met me at my apartment, and we headed to the railway station together.
I had prepared mint chutney sandwiches and packed samosas for our journey.
"Here," I handed Zayne a sandwich, smiling at him. He looked particularly handsome today in his casuals. He wore a white cotton jubba paired with blue jeans. His top buttons were undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest. I couldn't help but stare. His chest was a bit on the hairier side, and I wondered what it would feel like to slip my hand in there. We had been married for four and a half months now. Surely that wouldn't be a crazy thing to do.
My eyes wandered to his arms, partially hidden by the jubba but still showcasing the contours of his muscles. I knew he worked out to stay fit, not to bulk up, yet he had just the right amount of muscle. His hands were another story—long fingers and well-kept nails. Our daughter should inherit his hands, I thought.
When I finally looked up at his face, I saw that he was keenly observing me. Our eyes met, and he smiled. I wished I was sitting next to him rather than opposite him. I longed to be close to him.
We ate our samosas in a comfortable silence.
"How is your PG going?" Zayne asked.
"It's going well. I have some new interns this month. We've been hanging out," I replied.
