BEDIL SHERGILL || ✔ ||

[15] : Shattered Silence

NEXT MORNING

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the curtains, slowly pulling Rakshit from his sleep. He blinked a few times, disoriented, his mind still clouded with remnants of the night before. As awareness returned, he became acutely aware of the warmth pressed against his side.

Drishti.

His arm was draped over her, his hand resting gently on her waist. She was still asleep, her breathing soft and even. Rakshit's heart skipped a beat as he realized how close they were, their bodies entwined as if they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

It wasn't something that happened often-if at all. He couldn't even remember the last time they had slept this close. Usually, there was a wall of distance between them, a gulf that neither seemed willing to cross. But last night... last night had been different.

He hadn't intended to hold her like this, to let his guard down so completely. But something about the way she had felt in his arms-so small, so fragile-had stirred something deep inside him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Protectiveness. Affection.

Rakshit's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of his own emotions. It was infuriating how she could make him feel so many things at once, most of which he didn't want to admit, even to himself. She was his wife, yes, but their relationship had never been about love. It was a marriage of convenience, a power play, a battlefield where neither of them wanted to be the first to surrender.

And yet, here they were, tangled up together, her head resting against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Rakshit felt a pang of something-regret?-as he realized how much he had missed this kind of closeness, this kind of connection. But could it even be real, or was it just another illusion, another trap in the complicated game they were playing?

He sighed softly, careful not to wake her, and gently loosened his hold. But as he did, Drishti stirred in her sleep, her hand reflexively tightening around his arm, as if she didn't want him to leave. The small gesture caught him off guard, sending a wave of warmth through him that he hadn't expected.

He wanted to stay like this, just for a little while longer, to pretend that everything between them was okay, that there wasn't a storm brewing just beneath the surface. But he knew better. Drishti was hiding something-something big-and it was only a matter of time before it came to light.

Reluctantly, Rakshit began to pull away, trying to disentangle himself from her without waking her up. But as he did, he couldn't help but glance down at her face, peaceful and serene in sleep. For a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if things were different-if they could find their way to each other, not just in the darkness of night but in the light of day as well.

But that was a fantasy, and Rakshit was not a man who indulged in fantasies.

With a soft sigh, he finally managed to slip out of bed, leaving Drishti still curled up in the spot where they had been lying together. He stood there for a moment, watching her, a mixture of emotions swirling inside him. He wasn't sure what was happening between them, but he knew one thing for certain: whatever it was, it was far from over.

HALF AN HOUR LATER

Drishti stirred, her body instinctively rolling over, only to find the other side of the bed empty. For a split second, she felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment. Shaking it off, she reminded herself why that should be the last thing on her mind.

She sat up, running her hands through her hair, trying to shake off the remnants of a restless night. The memories of the previous night-the closeness, the warmth, and the confusion-flashed in her mind. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her waist, and it both angered and unsettled her.