Shattered Hearts: A Journey Through Darkness and Redemption

[8] Forehead Kiss

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Ishitha's POV

I was already running late. I needed to be at the flower shop by 8:30, but... look at me.

I could barely make it out of the bedroom on time, my thoughts still tangled in the events of last night.

As soon as I stepped out, I saw him-my husband-standing there, bathed in the soft morning light, his eyes locked onto me.

His gaze was sharp, and intense, as though he was reading every thought in the back of my mind.

The way he watched me- it always made me feel exposed and vulnerable.

Yet, there was something magical in it.

My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me.

Before I could fully gather myself, he interrupted,

"Where are you going, wifee?" His voice calm, almost casual.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

"Umm...work," I replied, my voice sounding more fragile than I wanted it to.

For the briefest moment, something flashed in his eyes-displeasure, perhaps even irritation.

It was so quick that if I hadn't been paying attention, I would have missed it.

But it was there, lingering just under the surface. And it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

What was wrong with him?

Just yesterday, he had told me that he would let me go to work.

Now, suddenly, he seemed annoyed at the very idea.

Before I could make sense of it, he spoke again, his tone leaving no room for debate.

"Have breakfast before you go."

It wasn't a suggestion.

It never was.

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him I was running late, but then I stopped myself.

What was the point?

His moods were always unpredictable, and pushing him would only ignite the spark of fire I wasn't prepared to face this morning.

Besides, having breakfast would give me the energy to get through the day.

And the fact that he had ordered Indian breakfast, out of all other cuisines, was surprising.

The smell of warm spices filled the room as the food arrived.

My stomach growled in response, reminding me how hungry I was.

Without thinking twice, I began to eat, savoring the familiar, comforting flavors.

But as usual, he didn't want me to do anything in peace.

"Wife," he called his voice, low and commanding.

Every time he called me that, it sent a shiver down my spine, like something cold creeping under my skin.

But today, there was something more in his tone, something I couldn't quite place.

"Yes?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"When are you planning to return?" His question came so casually, that it felt almost foreign coming from him.

It was as if the words didn't quite fit in his voice, their softness out of place.