The Pricking Love

Fractured Bonds

Ekant’s POV

I drove back from the hospital in silence, my gaze flickering to Anusha, pale and quiet in the passenger seat. Every time I looked at her, a strange feeling churned in my chest, something uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It was easier to cling to my hatred, to remind myself why I had wanted her to suffer—but now, seeing her like this, it felt hollow.

As we pulled up to the house, I stole a glance at her. Her eyes were open, but there was a heaviness in her gaze, a haunted look that hadn’t been there before. For a brief moment, I considered turning back, taking her anywhere but here. But I dismissed the thought, guiding her gently as we made our way inside.

Anusha hesitated at the threshold, her hands clutching her coat like a shield. “I… I can go back to the hospital if it’s too much trouble for you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The fear in her voice was like a slap, forcing me to confront what I’d turned her into. “You’re not going anywhere, Anusha. You’re staying here, where I can make sure you’re safe,” I replied, though I could feel the anger draining from my words, leaving only an ache I didn’t want to acknowledge.

She nodded, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she shrank from me even though I hadn’t lifted a hand. It stung, more than I cared to admit. I gestured toward the couch, and she lowered herself slowly, sinking into the cushions like she could disappear.

I watched her for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then I disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a blanket. She looked at me in surprise as I draped it over her shoulders, but she said nothing, her gaze fixed on her lap.

“Drink,” I said, offering her the glass.

Her fingers brushed against mine as she took it, and a shiver ran through her. She sipped carefully, her eyes darting around the room, as if she was searching for any signs of danger. I turned away, unable to bear the sight of her fear. This was supposed to be my revenge, but all I felt was a strange emptiness.

The hours passed in silence, each one heavier than the last. She stayed curled up on the couch, her breathing shallow and guarded. When I finally spoke, my voice was gruff, almost as if it didn’t belong to me. “You should rest. You need it.”

She looked at me, her eyes wary, but she nodded, rising slowly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The gratitude in her tone felt misplaced, like I was somehow deserving of it.

As she disappeared down the hallway to the room she’d slept in since we married, I sank into a chair, staring blankly at the wall. I thought of my mother, of the anger that had fueled me for so long, and for the first time, I felt the weight of that anger shift, loosening its hold on me.

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Anusha’s POV

The room was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners, and I clutched the blanket close, trying to shake the chill that seemed to cling to my skin. I could still feel Ekant’s presence lingering, his quiet care throwing me off balance. It was easier when he was angry, when he was cold. But this… this strange gentleness made my chest ache with confusion.

As I lay down, exhaustion washed over me, pulling me under, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze on me, like he was struggling with something just as heavy as my own fears. I closed my eyes, but sleep was elusive, memories of my father’s anger mingling with Ekant’s bitterness in my mind.

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Ekant’s POV

Hours later, I found myself outside her room, the door slightly ajar. I hadn’t meant to check on her, but something drew me there, something beyond my control. She was asleep, her face relaxed but fragile, like she might shatter if I so much as breathed too loud.