~ MUQAABIL ~

~ Itminaan ~

KAAINAAT'S POV

As I spoke those words, my heart raced, a mixture of fear and anger swirling inside me. I waited, bracing myself for his reaction. What would he do? Was he going to lash out at me like before? Was he planning to hurt me again? The memories of that night still haunted me, leaving me on edge, uncertain of what to expect.

But what he did next was nothing like what I had anticipated. Instead of raising his voice or making a move toward me, Avinaash silently sat down on the cold, hard floor outside my cell. He placed a tiffin between us and carefully opened it, releasing the comforting aroma of home-cooked food into the sterile, oppressive air of the jail.

He looked up at me, his eyes searching mine, as if waiting for me to join him in this simple act of sharing a meal. But I hesitated, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. How could he expect me to sit down and eat with him after everything that had happened? The wounds were still fresh, the betrayal still raw.

When I refused to sit down, he didn't force me or say anything to push me. Instead, he quietly took a morsel of food and extended his hand toward me. The gesture was so gentle, so unexpected, that it caught me off guard.

I don't know what came over me at that moment. My body seemed to move on its own, leaning forward to accept the food he offered. As I took the first bite, everything else seemed to fade away. The food was warm, comforting, and somehow, it felt like the first real meal I'd had in ages. I had never tasted anything so delicious. Where had he gotten it from? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I found myself staring at him, at the softness in his eyes.

He never apologized outright, but every action of his spoke volumes. The way he carefully fed me, the way he waited patiently, the regret that seemed to hang in the air between us—it all conveyed a silent apology, a deep, unspoken remorse. It was as if he was trying to show me that he wasn't the man who had hurt me, that he wasn't capable of such cruelty without a reason that tore him apart inside.

At one point, as he fed me, my lips accidentally brushed against his thumb. It was a fleeting, innocent touch, but it made my heart skip a beat, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks like a teenager with a first crush. I quickly looked away, embarrassed by my own reaction, but then I noticed something that sent a flutter through my stomach. He subtly licked the same spot on his thumb where my lips had touched, as if savoring the connection, however brief and innocent it might have been.

The gesture was so tender, so intimate, that it left me feeling vulnerable in a way I hadn't expected. For a moment, the walls I had built around my heart began to crack, and something unfamiliar started to grow in the cracks—something that felt dangerously close to hope.

After feeding me, he packed the tiffin with deliberate care, as if he was reluctant to let the moment end. I watched him, still unsure of what to make of everything that had just transpired. He stood up to leave, and for a second, I thought that would be the end of it. But before he turned away, he looked at me with a determination that made my heart ache.

"Mai firse aaunga, agli baar aapko bhi saath lekar jaaunga, yeh mera wada hai," he said, his voice firm yet gentle, like a promise he intended to keep no matter what.

I never thought I would ever feel hopeful or optimistic in this wretched cell, but as I listened to him, something inside me shifted. For the first time in what felt like forever, I dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this darkness. And that belief, however small, was enough to keep me going.

As he turned to leave, a pang of fear shot through me. I didn't want him to go. The thought of being left alone in that dark, cold cell again, with only my despair for company, was unbearable. But the words to stop him wouldn't come. I just watched him walk away, a silent plea lodged in my throat. I couldn't understand why I wanted him to stay, why his presence had suddenly become the only comfort I could cling to.