Beneath The Storm (Completed)

Chapter-22: A Taste of Longing

Atharv was back to his routine, fully recovered and diving into work with his usual vigor.

But no matter how focused he was on the endless meetings and strategic plans, his mind would drift, searching for something that wasn't there-Inaara's warmth.

He could feel the chill between them, the quiet distance she'd crafted so precisely around herself, as if to shield herself from him.

And he knew why. He could still recall his harsh words, his careless outburst, and the way they'd shattered something fragile and precious between them.

Each time he tried to approach her, she'd pull back, her demeanor colder, her gaze averted, and her presence now wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon.

Atharv had never been one to apologize. Apologies, to him, were unnecessary concessions in a world where he held power and control.

He'd never cared enough about anyone's opinion to feel guilt or to regret his actions. But this was different.

This wasn't just anyone; this was Inaara.

And it unsettled him that the one person he wanted to understand his remorse couldn't even bear to look at him.

He wanted to bridge the gap, to break the silence with a simple apology, yet each attempt was met with the weight of his own hesitation.

Atharv wasn't used to the vulnerability that came with seeking forgiveness, and with Inaara's quiet withdrawal, it seemed the distance between them was only growing.

He felt as though they'd taken one cautious step closer in those moments she'd cared for him in his fevered haze, only for him to force her ten steps back with his own reckless words.

Now, every time he saw her, a strange ache crept into his heart.

She moved through their shared space without sparing him a glance, her silence like a wall he couldn't climb.

It was a new kind of torment for him, the knowledge that he'd pushed her away, and for the first time, he felt the urge to tear down his own pride, just to hear her voice directed at him once more.

Atharv entered their bedroom after a long day at the office, eyes weary but sharp.

His gaze immediately caught on a small suitcase resting on the couch, half-open, with a few folded clothes spilling out.

His chest tightened, an uncomfortable feeling creeping in.

Is she going somewhere?

The question lingered in his mind, though he tried to dismiss it, tried to ignore the unwelcome curiosity gnawing at him.

But as he moved through the evening, it became harder to shake off.

At dinner, he found himself stealing glances, the question lingering on his tongue.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice casual yet betraying a hint of hesitation. "Umm...Inaara, are you...going somewhere?"

Inaara looked up, her expression calm, almost indifferent.

"I was going to tell you," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "I'm going home for a few days. I already informed Maa."