LOVE AGAIN | 18+

☆ || E f f i m i n a t e || ☆

Men who Don't have manly egos are not special.
Men who speak effeminately are not special.
Men who don't cheat are not special.
Men who treat women with equality are not special.
Men who cook in their homes and take care of the baby are not special.
Men who support their wives are not special.
This is what a normal man should be like.

Babes, there might be something wrong with yours I doubt.

* * * * *

A A R N A

"I'm coming." I hung up the call after hearing his voice. My palms cover my face as I try to restrain the sobs, but they consume me badly anyway, reminiscing about the death of my parents and brother.

I cried my heart out, lamenting with only one thought about how people sum up the courage to live without the person they love. When we lose someone in accidents, breakups, or some other reason. I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how it feels because whenever I recall my close one's demise, it just scares me more than that it makes me cry.

It's cruel. The feeling. Dying is the ultimate truth I know. But imagine losing that one person you can't live without. The thought itself wrenches my heart in a bad way. Very bad.

I'm a crying mess right now. My nostrils are blocked, and my vision blurred as I wipe my cheeks now and then, sniffing my runny nose.

I can live with people who don't love back. I can even live with the ones who hate me. But I can't tolerate the fact of their absence. It brings back my anxiety attacks. After the therapy, it was shunned, but when my throat chokes and I feel short of breath, I'm zoned out to some other world.

"Aarna. Oh God!"
I can hear his thick voice while my eyes remain closed. The Loud thumpings of his boots coming near. I try to inhale sharply but my nostrils are blocked. I sniffled dryly.

"Aarna. Are you crying?" I feel him sitting in front of me, his warm palms pressing over my even warmer cheeks and pushing a drop of tears away from my eyes.

His face seemed blurry with my vision, so I shed tears to only see his face; the relief washes against my heart. His deep-set grey eyes have turned darker, the worry in them. It's for me?

"Why are you crying tell me?"
The wavy layer of his jet-black hair sets furiously over his forehead. My heart melts with his touch, the warmth in them melts my poor heart.

I press my lips tighter, stifling the cries and choked voice. "Tell me what happened?" His head tilted lower to ask me calmly.

"I— That— that accident. . ." Gulping down the bile formed I realised my Saree was inappropriately arranged. I sat up straight, and he shifted back to give me space only to settle beside me. I wiped my tears completely trying to look normal. What am I doing? Crying just over a movie.

I kept sniffing under the room full of stars at the ceiling and the silence occupied in every fibre. My runny nose made it even more awkward when I had nothing to stop it. His hand came forward offering me his pristine white handkerchief.

My gaze flickered up to him. He had no emotions on his face to be precise. Gulping the saliva down my throat, I grabbed the handkerchief, and at that exact time, a loud sneeze hit my mouth making my throat sore.

I wiped my Waterous nose with the white cloth when he decided to end the silence. "You were crying over this movie?" His finger pointing at the big screen in front of us where I paused it at Emma's accident.