" 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 "
Advait Agnihotry... He was my pride.
My heart.
The reason I breathed.
But now... now for the first time in my life-I qu...
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" Damn it! Can this piece of metal fly any faster?!" Advait grunted, his fist hovering just above the glass table in front of him, as if a single push will successfully shatter it to pieces. He was fuming, the anger boiling under his skin that was clearly visible in his eyes.
Diya's saddened expression haunted him, her face flashing before his eyes like a ghost he couldn’t shake. The weight of this unfamiliar feeling pressed down on him, making it harder to cope. He closed his eyes, his lips thinning into a tight line as dissatisfaction coursed through his veins, cold and bitter.
Why is it always like this? The harder he tried to make her feel comfortable, to give her a sense of belonging, a safe place to rest, the more it seemed to backfire. He wanted her to feel like she had someone she could trust, someone to rely on, someone who was always there—but instead, he ended up making things worse.
And it’s her. Not just anyone. Hurting her, even unintentionally, twisted something deep inside him. It was a pain he wasn’t familiar with, a discomfort he had never allowed himself to feel. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything—he built his life on that. Years of effort, carefully constructing a cold, unbreakable exterior.
His heart was never supposed to be involved. But now? His heart, poor as it was, struggled to maintain that hardened front. His mind screamed to stay distant, to remain detached, but his eyes betrayed him. Every time he closed them, he saw her. His wife. Her face. The intensity made him lose his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
His eyes still closed, he leaned back in his seat, his head resting heavily against the headrest. The stewardess stood across from him, silent and trembling slightly. She knew better than to speak when he was like this—anger radiating off him in waves. It was rare to see Advait Agnihotri lose control. He was known for his calm, cold demeanor, his complete indifference to almost everything. He never wasted energy on emotions, especially not anger. He had no time for that. No one was worthy of that—except, maybe, his family. Except his wife.
Today, though, everything felt different. The frustration that usually rolled off his back had clung to him like a heavy cloak. The more he tried to shake it, the tighter it seemed to wrap around him.
Advait sat through the entire flight, feeling restless and on edge. No matter how hard he tried to focus on something else, Diya's face kept popping into his mind. Her sad expression, her silence, everything about her was pulling at him, and he hated how much it bothered him. He was never like this before—never confused about his feelings. He had always been clear-headed, always knew what he wanted, but now, everything felt different.
