tough love

part two

A/N: Great news for everyone who asked for a second part. Should have known the episode would piss me off enough to write more. Like, I hated this episode, but also loved it?? It's serving pre & peri-divorce track idiocy and giving me hope that they'll bring back his post-realisation rona-dhona desperation again. And there's nothing more appealing in the world than a man who grovels a little. 

Either way, cranked this piece out far too quickly, when really, I wanted to work on updating my other story. But meh. Apologies, as always, for the lack of editing!

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Armaan meant to go to her. Really, he did. He'd gotten as far as his car, ready to rush over to Manish sir's house and beg for her forgiveness. A chance to start over. The last one of the many he had asked of her already.

But then Ma and Dadi sa got into it again, neither happy with the other—all because of him. They were both miserable, and as the cause of their misery, he found himself unable to leave, punishing himself by staying.

By the time he could leave, Abhira was already back, visibly happier after meeting her par nanu. She milled around the house, chatting with all of the Chorus Gang and distributing the mithai that her par nanu sent her back with. He tried intercepting her, but Charu whisked her away for something or the other. She shot him a quick smile over her shoulder, brightening his mood by miles.

Fine, he could wait for her in their room. She'd be there soon enough, and everything would be okay.

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He was slow to wake the following day, hardly remembering when he had fallen asleep. His plan to woo Abhira washed away by his exhaustion. He looked around, the room still dark. Squinting at the clock by the bedside, he read the time. 4:37 AM.

Still far too early in the morning.

He glanced over at Abhira, her face serene. All the worry lines he had seen on her face smoothened away by sleep. I am sorry. Main sach mein tumhaare liye better husband ban'na chahta hoon. Careful not to wake her, he reached for the hand she had left lying palm-up in the centre of the bed. He placed his own hand over it, drifting back to sleep.

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When he woke up again, it was the furthest thing from slow. He shot out of bed in a violent motion, terrified on the heels of his nightmare. Maa was leaving. He was all alone.

Abhira jerked back from where she had been hovering above him, her eyes widening in fright and embarrassment. Of course. Of course, he had fucked it up again. There she was. His wife. Trying to wake him up sweetly on their first morning together and he had to go and stomp over all her efforts.

His heart ached at the thought of the easy days in the outhouse. The way he teased and pleaded, claiming that he only really ever slept well if she was by his side. Her constant refrain had been: shaadi ke baad. And here they were, shaadi ke baad, and nothing was right.

Lost in his self-recrimination, he hardly noticed when she left the room.

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She looked stunning.

It wasn't a fact that he was prone to forgetting, but yet, with rivulets of water running down her face, ruined makeup and wet hair plastered against her skin, he couldn't help but be reminded of the way she took his breath away.