LOVE AGAIN | 18+ || ✔

☆ || S t a r s || ☆

"Don't draw the stars around my scars. Hydrogen smashes; helium burns."

"Isn't that how the stars shine? The fusion."

* * * * *

A A R N A

"Mr Rajvansh."
I gasped wondering.

He said he wouldn't come home tonight. Then?
One of his arms was bruised badly; meanwhile, there was a cut on his left forehead.

My lips parted to speak but the words didn't come out.
"Will you give me some space?" He asked monotonously. My presence on the door was blocking his way.

"You're injured." A gasp leaves my mouth, palming it when he just rolls his eyes, enters the kitchen and grabs a water bottle from the refrigerator.

"What happened? You're injured badly, Mr Rajvansh." I inquired, worried, my eyes getting slightly watery.

He gulped some water and spoke while closing the cap of the water bottle.
"Don't worry. I'm not dying."

I suppress my mouth from bursting. His arm is injured badly, and he asks me not to worry.
"But it's really deep. It should be hurting. Let me Bring the first aid box." Panic shot in my voice and body.

"Aarna."
I started to go but he held my wrist. His deep voice bursts the hormones in me to explode with all the care I want to shower him with.

"It's the fake blood. See." He dipped the finger on his arm under the pool of blood and smeared it on my palm."Nothing it is. It's the cornstarch mixed with water and some red food colour."

I gulped and looked up at him.
"Is it?" My tone was curt when my heart exploded with resentment. Anyone's concern doesn't matter to him.
He nodded. And then inhaled a deep breath.
"I'll just take a shower. Is dinner ready?"

My lips pressed in a thin line.
"You said you won't come for dinner and I didn't have an appetite so I asked Martha to not cook. There was enough food from the lunch."

He rubbed his forehead and then shook his head.
"You should have told me then. And why don't you have the appetite? What did you eat at lunch?"

I looked elsewhere, not answering his particular question. How should I tell him that I didn't have my lunch? Crying made me tired. And I didn't feel like eating. I tried eating dinner, but it was just a spoonful of soup, and I discarded it.

Without giving him a reply, I came out of the kitchen. He stopped me gripping my wrist.
"Don't avoid me."

Says who? He's a total hypocrite.
I inhaled wiping my cheeks.
"Are you crying?"

"No." Yes.

"God!" He muttered under his breath and then faced me standing closer. As close as we don't have a gap in between. His palms cupped my neck, brushing my cheeks with his thumbs. "You should have done your lunch atleast. I can't accompany you in the noon."

How does he know I didn't eat my lunch?
Is he replying to my morning question to atleast have breakfast and dinner with me?

Why is he being so soft suddenly? When I decided to get accustomed to his cold nature now he's acting so sweet.

"I—I didn't have an appetite. I had a heavy breakfast."

He shook his head while cupping my neck and coarsely forcing his thumb on my chin to make me look up. His palm skin is rough and hard but the warmth emanating from them feels soft and comforting.