Passion & Dilemma

45. For a man like you?

Prerna's POV

Sarthak threw his tie on the ground and I held the edge of the dressing table for support, my face still turned away from him in fear.

I heard the sound of the bathroom's door locking that broke my trance.

Only then I realised how I had tightened my muscles and shut my eyes closed in order to prepare myself from physical pain which my brain had expected from Sarthak.

I exhaled a short breath. My knees gave up and I sat on the ground by the support of the dressing table.

My eyes involuntarily raised to look at the closed bathroom door. Sarthak was on the other side of the door and yet it felt like he was so far away.

What just happened.

What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened.

My palms fisted in my lap as my lips quivered.

"Sarthak." I called for him in a voice so low that even I could not hear it.

My fist tightened and I looked at the door. I gulped down the huge lump down my throat before forcing my vocal cords to make a sound.

"Sarthak." I called again, making too much effort to say a single word.

My breathing turned shallow and uneven. My hands and lips quivered as I kept looking at the door.

I memory of Sarthak raising his hand with that angry expression kept replaying in my head. I involuntarily dug my nails into my clothed thighs.

No, no, no. Please, no.

I cannot afford a panic attack right now. I can't. It makes me want to hurt myself.

I don't want to hurt myself.

I don't want a panic attack.

I don't. I don't. I DON'T.

My eyes welled up and a silent sob escaped my throat.

If I cry, I will break. If I break, I'll hurt myself. If I hurt myself, everyone in the family will know that I am mentally unstable.

That would be so humiliating.

I rested my back against the wood and closed my eyes breathing heavily.

One two three, inhale. One two three, exahle.

I repeated and counted my breathing while caressing my chest with other hand.

One, two, three, ten, twenty, fifty, seventy, hundred.

I counted until the tears dried, without falling, though the quivering of my body remained. My ears turned numb and all I could hear was my own heart thumping against my tight chest.

I did not realise how much time I spent on the floor, calming and supporting myself.

I stood up un my wobbly feet and looked around the room through my blurry vision. I spotted a shawl and walked toward it, knocking my feet against the furniture that I failed to notice.

Wrapping the shawl around me, I reached the door. Looking over my shoulder, I glance at the bathroom door one last time before I switched the lights off and left the room.

I climbed the stairs to the terrace and the sharp, cold wind of November hit me like a punch. I shuddered and took a step forward.

My legs walked me to the boundary on their own. Everything I was doing was happening on its own, because my brain was literally numb and heavy. It felt like it weighed ten kilograms, minimum.