ADHURI KAHANI: A tale of an amnesic bond

52. THE CONFUSION

INAAYA'S POV

My father's words echoed relentlessly in my mind: He came to see you right after your surgery, with red and swallon eyes. He came? If he was there when I was in a coma, why didn't he visit once I was awake? Did he not know I'd woken up? But that doesn't make sense-Raghav knew, Tanvi knew, practically everyone at the office knew. His actions and words left me tangled in a web of confusion. Which of his gestures was real? Should I take his absence as proof he doesn't care, something I've started to accept? Or does his breaking down after the accident reveal a side of him that cares more than he lets on? It's maddening, the way he makes me feel.

Why are you making this so complicated, Ishaan? First, you disappeared from my life. Then you came back, and I told myself I had to let go, to find a way to move on. But now, with every look and every gesture, he's pulling me in, stirring up these old feelings I thought I'd buried. Please, Ishaan, don't do this. I'm not strong enough for another heartbreak.

I found my gaze drifting towards the driver's seat, where Ishaan was focused on the road, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. We'd exchanged a few polite words, small talk here and there, but it had been mostly quiet. My eyes lingered for a moment on his side profile, taking in the calm determination etched in his expression, but soon enough, my attention shifted.

I found myself fixated on his hands. One rested on the lower part of the steering wheel, veins running prominently over his knuckles and forearm. As he turned the wheel slightly, his other hand moved to the gear stick, fingers gripping it smoothly, confidently. I took a breath, but it felt caught halfway, like I'd forgotten how to breathe for a second, mesmerized by the strength and detail in his hands. The veins seemed to draw a line, strong and defined, making my imagination run wilder than I'd like to admit.

What is wrong with me? Am I okay? I couldn't help but question myself, my mind racing with a confusing mix of feelings. Here I was, sitting beside the man I swore I would move on from. I mean, wasn't I the one who told myself I was done with this cute little high school crush? The one who spent years trying to forget him and live in reality?

'You scared me, Plum,' his voice echoed in my mind, each syllable tugging at my heart. Plum... Plum. The word circled in my thoughts, stirring up memories of a time when it held so much warmth, so much meaning. Back then, when he'd call me that, it felt like the world was aligned, like nothing else mattered. But now... now he doesn't even know me. To him, I'm just another face in a world he's forgotten.

And yet, a tiny, stubborn part of me can't help but wonder-was there a chance he remembers, even if just a little? Did he call me Plum because it slipped through the cracks of his memory loss? Or was it just... random, a coincidence that means nothing to him but everything to me?

I know better than to get lost in possibilities. Expectations, they only lead to pain. I spent seven years hoping, waiting for him to come back. I held on through the days and nights, expecting... and he never came. Now, he's finally here, but as a stranger. I've learned my lesson: hope can be dangerous. Expecting anything from him now would only open old wounds, wounds I've tried so hard to keep from breaking open.

I was lost in my thoughts when the car came to a sudden halt, snapping me back to reality. My vision cleared, and I realized I had been zoning out, staring at his hands. A warm flush crept up my cheeks as I gulped, the sight of his veiny hand in front of me sending a shiver down my spine. But before I could compose myself, I felt his gaze on me. I turned to the driver's seat, and there was Ishaan, his eyes already locked onto mine.

Shit! Did he see me ogling at his hands? My mind raced, and I smiled nervously, trying to brush off the embarrassment that washed over me.

"Is something wrong with me?" he asked, adjusting his sleeve, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone.

His question took me by surprise. Wrong with him? I repeated in my mind, barely able to hide my shock. There's... there's nothing wrong with him-except, you know, the memory thing, of course.

"No, no, nothing's wrong!" I replied, too quickly, my cheeks warming. "Just...zoned out for a moment."

A soft laugh escaping my lips. He gave me a curious look, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips, as if he knew more than he let on. I couldn't quite tell if he'd noticed anything or if I was just overthinking. Either way, I couldn't shake the flustered feeling as I scrambled to compose myself, willing my heartbeat to settle.

As soon as he left the car, I exhaled a long, shaky breath and pressed my palms to my cheeks, which felt embarrassingly warm. Get it together, Inaaya, get it together! I scolded myself, desperately trying to calm the rapid thudding in my chest.

But no sooner had I started to relax than the image of his hands came flashing back-those strong, veined hands that had once wrapped around me, pulling me close. My heartbeat went into overdrive, and my stomach did a flip that wasn't the delightful flutter people talk about. No, it was more like a strange, nervous ache.

Other girls get butterflies because of boys, I thought, half-amused, half-mortified. And here I am getting stomach issues.

He climbed back into the car, settling in with two drinks in hand. I glanced down and immediately recognized the familiar caramel hue. Butterscotch boba.

He handed it over, his expression calm but thoughtful. "We'll need it," he said simply. "The ride's long."

I nodded, offering him a small smile. "Thank you so much, sir."

I took a sip, letting the familiar sweetness wash over me, but the comfort didn't last. My gaze dropped to the drink, and my mind raced. He brings me one every day now-does he know it's my favorite? Or is it just some kind of habit? Another coincidence?

It's always the same with him: little gestures that leave me questioning, picking apart every look and word, trying to find answers that may not even be there. He's like a puzzle that I can't solve, no matter how hard I try. And each piece he gives me seems only to add to the confusion, not clarity.

What does he want from me? Or is he just... like this, and I'm reading too much into things? My thoughts churned, restlessly circling the same fears. Please, I thought, just give me a sign. Something clear. Because I can't bear it if this is all in my head-if he's just being kind, and I'm setting myself up for heartbreak all over again.

Here is the 52nd chapter. I hope you guys liked it.

Short chapter because I have exams tomorrow and your author needs to be best at everything she does, including studies.

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Chapter 53 will come out soon <3