The Second Bloom • 18+

25. Letter from her (Varun's POV)

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days without her, and I felt every single one of them.

The house seemed emptier, quieter.

Her laughter no longer echoed in the room, her gentle humming no longer filled the silence. I missed it all-her voice, her presence, the warmth that seemed to radiate from her even in the coldest moments.

I had never imagined it would be this hard.

When she left for her mayeka, I had told myself it was just for a short time, just a few days, and then she'd be back.

But, now as the days drags on, I realize how much I had taken her for granted.

The mornings were the hardest. I missed waking up to the sight of her hair spread across the pillow, the way her eyes would slowly flutter open, her soft smile when she caught me staring. Now, I woke up to nothing but an empty bed and the cold reality of her absence.

There's still four days left until Holi, four long days before she would return.

It feels like an eternity.

I think about her constantly-how she would have started her day, what she might be doing at this very moment. Was she missing me too? Was she thinking of me, of us?

The nights are worse.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts consumed by her. I could still feel her next to me-the memory of her touch lingering on my skin. It was as if I could still hear her breathing softly beside me, even though I knew she wasn't there. I found myself tossing and turning, restless, wishing she was with me, wishing I could hold her again.

I missed her laugh, her way of looking at me with those big, soft eyes that made everything else seem unimportant. I missed the way her saree rustled as she walked, the way she would adjust her pallu when she was nervous. I missed the way she would tease me, the way she would care for me without saying a word. And more than anything, I missed the way we had become closer, the bond that had been growing between us. The love between us.

I tried to distract myself with work, throwing myself into the daily chores, but everything reminded me of her.

When I walked by the kitchen, I remembered how she would make breakfast, her hair tied up messily, her face glowing with concentration. When I went to the fields, I thought about how I had taken her there that night, showing her the hut and how we had laid there under the stars and made love for the first time. That memory, that night...it was something I couldn't shake.

It was the first time I had truly felt connected to her when we went there for the first time, and now, without her here, it felt like I was missing a piece of myself.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Four more days.

It didn't seem like much, but when you miss someone like this, every second feels like an hour, every day a year.

I tried to imagine what it would be like when she finally returned. Would she rush into my arms, smiling, laughing, or would we fall into the same routine, pretending that we hadn't spent weeks apart?

As much as I missed her, there was a part of me that wondered if this distance was necessary. Maybe I needed this time to realize just how much she meant to me, how deeply she had woven herself into my life. Maybe, when she came back, I would be able to show her that, in a way I hadn't before.

I sat by the window, looking out at the fields, the wind carrying the scent of fresh earth. I could almost hear her voice in the wind, whispering to me, calling me back to her.