BEDIL SHERGILL || ✔ ||

[26]: Drenched Souls, Unspoken Words

As the first light of dawn gently spilled into the room, Drishti slowly opened her eyes. The events of the previous night still weighed heavily on her mind, but the sight of Rakshit sleeping peacefully beside her offered a strange sense of solace. For a moment, she simply watched him, taking in the rare softness of his features. His face, usually so composed and guarded, was relaxed in sleep, revealing a side of him she seldom saw.

She took a deep breath, her thoughts swirling. "I won't mind whatever happened last night. I need to forget it all." She whispered to herself, trying to convince her heart to let go of the emotions tugging at her. "I have to distract myself from it." It was easier said than done, but she was determined to push forward, to focus on the present.

Careful not to disturb him, Drishti slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

As Drishti stepped out of the bathroom, the soft pink saree clinging to her damp skin, she felt a renewed sense of determination. Today was about letting go of the heaviness from the night before. She had made up her mind—she would not allow her emotions to dictate her actions, at least not today. Her hair, still damp from the shower, fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and she adorned herself with a pair of delicate silver jhumkas that swayed gently with each movement.

The pink saree brought out the warmth in her complexion, and as she looked in the mirror, she felt a flicker of confidence returning. She whispered a quiet prayer, hoping that today would be different, that the day’s festivities would provide a much-needed distraction.

As she walked back into the room, she couldn’t help but pause for a moment. Rakshit was still in bed, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. For all his sharp edges and cold demeanor, there was something undeniably innocent about him when he slept, something that tugged at Drishti’s heartstrings in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge.

For a few moments, she simply stood there, watching him. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight furrow in his brow that remained even in sleep—it was a sight that made her heart ache, but also one that she found oddly comforting.

"Why does he have to be so... human in these moments?" she thought to herself, feeling a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.

With a sigh, she decided it was time to wake him. Leaning down, she called softly, "Mr. Shergill, its morning. Wakeyy wakeyy!!"

He stirred slightly, his face scrunching up in the way it often did when he was annoyed by something. "Kya hua?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Ganesh Chaturthi hai kal. Aunty ne shopping ke liye jaane ko kaha tha, bhool gaye?” she reminded him, her voice gentle but firm.

He let out a groggy groan, finally opening his eyes. As he blinked away the remnants of sleep, his gaze landed on her, and for a moment, he simply stared.

The sight of Drishti in that soft pink saree, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, and those delicate jhumkas swaying slightly as she looked down at him—it was enough to leave him momentarily speechless. There was something ethereal about her in that moment, something that made his heart skip a beat.

"Why does she have to look so… breathtaking?" he thought, irritation and admiration battling within him.

His initial annoyance at being woken up early faded as he took in the full sight of her. She looked like a vision of calm and serenity, but he knew better. Beneath that calm exterior was a storm—one that he was both intrigued and terrified of.

“Ohh… subah subah shuru ho gayi Madonna” he muttered, trying to mask his feelings with sarcasm.

Drishti rolled her eyes at his words. “Uth kar ready ho jaiye, Mr. Shergill. We’re going shopping together today, remember?”