Cuddle

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Shivangi's POV

After returning with Rocky, a doctor came by to check on me. She examined me, gave a few instructions, and then left the room. Now, I’m sitting here alone. I can't help but wonder—did Rocky really care? Do I truly matter to him? Is there really someone in my life who genuinely cares about me? These thoughts start to overwhelm me as I sit lost in my own world.

When Rocky mentioned he’d be back soon and suggested I should eat while he was gone, I couldn’t help but stop him. There was something in his voice, something that made me uneasy. He didn’t protest when I asked him to stay; instead, he sat down beside me, but not in the usual way. He turned away, sitting with his back to me, which immediately set off alarm bells in my mind. Rocky never does that—he’s always facing me, always engaging with me directly, making sure I’m okay. He usually has this way of talking about anything and everything, just to distract me from whatever’s bothering me, or he’ll look me in the eyes and tell me how much I mean to him, how I’m not alone.

But today, it’s different. There’s a distance in the way he’s sitting, a silence that feels heavy and unfamiliar. It’s like he’s shutting me out, keeping something from me that he doesn’t want to share. I can’t help but worry. What’s going on with him? Why is he acting this way? The more I think about it, the more it starts to feel like whatever he’s going through is serious.

I reached out and gently placed my hand on Rocky’s shoulder, turning him slowly to face me. His eyes were fixed firmly on the ground, and I struggled to understand what he was feeling. I called his name softly, “Rocky,” hoping to break through whatever was clouding his mind, but he didn’t lift his gaze. I tried again, calling his name with a bit more urgency, but still, there was no response.

Worried and desperate to connect, I moved closer and carefully held his chin, guiding his face up so that he would look at me. As his eyes finally met mine, I was taken aback by the sight of tears shimmering in his eyes. It was a stark contrast to his usual demeanor, and it struck me deeply. The vulnerability and sadness reflected in his eyes were overwhelming, and I felt a wave of concern and empathy wash over me. The unspoken tension between us was suddenly palpable, and I knew that something serious was weighing heavily on him.

I placed my hands on Rocky’s shoulders and gently turned him to face me. His eyes were looking down, and I struggled to understand what he was feeling. I called out softly, “Rocky,” hoping to get some reaction, but he kept his gaze on the floor. I tried again, “Rocky,” but he still didn’t respond.

Growing more worried, I reached out and gently held his chin, lifting his face so that he would look at me. When he finally did, I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cry—of course he can—but the suddenness of his tears left me confused and concerned.

I asked softly, “Rocky, what happened? Why are you crying?” Before I could say anything else, he hugged me tightly, which took me by surprise. I wasn’t uncomfortable with his touch; actually, his hug was incredibly comforting, the most soothing I’ve felt since my mother’s hugs. The way he held me showed just how much he needed this moment of closeness.

I wrapped my arms around him and gently patted his back. “It’s okay, you can cry in front of me, Rocky. I’m here for you, okay?” I said softly. Watching him break down like this was both painful and worrying. His tears and the depth of his sadness were hard to bear, and it left me deeply concerned about what might be troubling him so much.

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