Heal Me

32.Whispers of midnight

Esha's POV:
.
.
.
.
I lay on my bed, my gaze fixed on the ceiling as the faint light from the street lamp outside flickered through the window. The air was cool, seeping through the slightly ajar window, making the sheer curtains dance ever so slightly.

The moonlight poured in, casting soft, silvery shadows across the room. I sighed, hugging my pillow tighter as a gentle breeze caressed my face, my hair fluttering lazily.

I should be studying, I thought to myself, but how could I focus on anything after what had happened today? Ishaan's face flashed through my mind for the hundredth time tonight. I tried to push away the thought, but it only made me smile wider. The memory of his touch lingered, warm and electric, sending little jolts of excitement through me.

Our kiss. It was all I could think about. My heart raced just recalling it—the way his hands had cupped my face, the intensity of his gaze right before his lips crashed into mine. It was like he was telling me something without words, something deep and unspoken.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the giddy feeling rising in my chest, but it was useless. My cheeks flushed pink as I hugged my pillow tighter, rolling over onto my side, unable to stop the soft giggle that escaped my lips.

Stop it, Esha! You’re acting like a schoolgirl.

But I couldn’t help it. Ishaan had this way of getting under my skin, making me feel things I had never felt before. I never knew I could be so giddy, so happy, even in the midst of everything going on in my life. And yet, here I was, smiling like an idiot, feeling like I was floating on air.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of yelling from downstairs jolted me out of my thoughts. I winced, pulling the pillow over my head in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Mom and Dad, again.

Their voices echoed through the walls, harsh and cutting. They’d been fighting more than usual lately, and it was starting to wear on me. It felt like I was stuck in a constant battle between them, always walking on eggshells, always caught in the crossfire.

I didn’t want Ishaan to know about any of it. I didn’t want him to see this side of my life—the messy, complicated side that I was always trying to hide. What if he found out and decided it was too much? What if he didn’t want to be with someone whose life was so chaotic?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they clung to me like a shadow, always lurking in the back of my mind.

Just as I was about to drown in my thoughts again, a soft tap on the window made me freeze. I glanced towards the open window, my heart leaping into my throat. My mind immediately went to the worst—an intruder? A ghost? But then, a familiar face peered through the gap.

It was him. Ishaan.

I blinked, sitting up quickly, my heart racing for a different reason now. He was perched on the ledge of my window, his eyes twinkling with mischief, that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“What the—" I started, but he cut me off, jumping through the window with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. "You do realize this isn't a Bollywood movie, right? Sneaking into my room daily like this—what if someone saw you?"

He just grinned, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Kya karoon? Mujhe apni heroine se milna tha."

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep up the act of being annoyed, but it was impossible to stay mad at him. His presence was like a warm blanket, and as much as I wanted to be stern, my heart fluttered every time I looked at him. He had that effect on me.