Solace

|47|unfolding

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NIDHI

"It was taking too long," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

"And what were you planning to do—push the car?" he snapped, his words hitting me like a wave. I could feel my eyes start to sting, tears threatening to spill over. I hated how easily I could cry, especially in moments like this.

"When I say something, you listen," he said firmly, his voice lowering but still edged with irritation.

"I shouldn't have to repeat myself." He walked past me, grabbing my arm with a firm grip—not painful, but the weight of his words hurt more than his hold.

He opened the car door for me, and I slid inside without so much as a glance in his direction. Leaning toward me, he gently placed the pallu of my saree over my lap. As he straightened, our eyes met—his gaze slightly softened, but not enough to melt the coldness I felt. I quickly turned my face away, choosing to ignore him entirely.

He stood by the car's bonnet, the surrounding an industrial landscape, feeling cold and desolate. To our right, towering buildings loomed, while to the left, a few under-construction structures added to the eerie silence.

Suddenly, a group of bikers sped past, hooting and gesturing as they rode off into the distance. A chill of fear coursed through me.

I was torn—part of me still simmered with anger at him, but another part was grateful that in moments like this, I wasn't alone, anymore.

Without warning, he re-entered the car, causing me to flinch closing my window with the touch of a button and cracking open his own. He then stepped out, locking the doors and tossing the keys onto my lap through the slightly ajar window.

"Stay inside," he commanded, his voice firm.

"At all costs," he added, the tension evident in his tone, his demeanor rigid and his stance protective. He walked around the front of the car, positioning himself in front of my window, shielding me completely from view.

Couldn't he have been a bit gentler while asking me to stay inside?

Why does he have to be so abrasive and exasperating sometimes?

I wasn't going to talk to him. I don't talk to him, yet he speaks to me this way. I always converse respectfully—why can't he?

Doesn't he realize how much his words affect me?

Even the last time, without considering my perspective, he just yelled at me.