Kalaba Kadhala | Part 1

Chapter 29

Prabhas stood at the threshold of the rustic wooden door leading to Anushka's room, the sun filtering through the tightly woven cane curtains, casting flickering shadows that danced over the room's modest furnishings.

Anushka lay in her room, the pale light filtering through the cracked window illuminating her fragile frame. She had always illuminated his world—a beacon of innocence in the suffocating darkness he had crafted around himself. But now, her spirit seemed dimmed, shadows pooled around her like fog that refused to lift. The sight of her made him catch his breath.

"Prabhas..." her voice was soft, barely a whisper, yet it commanded his attention. She offered him a shy smile, one that did little to conceal the pain etched across her face. Her wounds—bruises vivid and stark against her cinnamon skin—parted the veil of his hardened exterior, forcing him to confront the horror of his chosen life.

He took a step forward, each footfall weighted with guilt. "Anushka..." his voice trembled slightly as he approached her bedside. She shifted to sit up, propping herself against the faded wall, her eyes reflecting both love and pain.

"What have they done to you?" The rage simmered just underneath his skin, threatening to break free like a beast clawing at its cage. As he reached out to touch her, he hesitated—afraid, yet yearning, remembering more vividly than ever the daylight that had splintered into darkness, taking her along with it.

"It doesn't matter now," she replied, her expression a tapestry of resilience and suffering. "I'm just glad you're here." Yet, even as she tried to comfort him, he could see every bruise, every sign of the torment she had endured in his absence.

"It matters," he snapped, his veneer cracking. The gangster within him stirred—pent up anger and a thirst for vengeance that threatened to overshadow everything. How could he let the people responsible roam freely, knowing they'd hurt the only one who mattered to him? "I'll make them pay for this," he vowed, his voice a low growl, the air around them thickening with the promise of violence.

"Prabhas, no..." Anushka's voice steadied him, grounding him despite the flood of emotions. She reached out weakly, her fingers brushing against his. "Don't go on a war for me."

"I will!" he hissed back, barely keeping his voice from breaking. "Because you are worth fighting for." His chest tightened as he realized he was teetering on the brink of love.

In the stillness, the tension thickened like the humid air. Anushka, with her deep, penetrating gaze, studied him as if seeking to unravel the labyrinth of his soul. "You know this path of violence ruined my childhood" she said softly, her eyes glistening with tears. "I've seen it take everything from me, and I... I hate it."

Prabhas's heart sank. He had always known that the life he led, the path carved by betrayal and murder, would never be something she could embrace. And yet, he could sense something else simmering beneath her surface — a flicker of something deeper. She drew a breath, steadying herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was laced with vulnerability.

"But... I can't help but love you, Prabhas. I love you for who you are beneath the cold-hearted gangster," she said, her confession tumbling from her lips like a tender cascade. "Though I hate what you do, I couldn't stop myself from loving you."

His breath hitched, a pulse of conflicting emotions flooding through him. "You deserve so much better," he breathed out, his fingers still lingering along the curve of her wrist where the bruises faded to pale skin. "You should be free from this. You should be living a life filled with laughter, not fear."

"I'm free when I'm with you," she countered, meeting his fiery gaze with her own fierce conviction. "Don't you see? You don't have to be that man for me. I need you to promise me..."