Aashvi pov.
I couldn't meet Kabir's eyes, the weight of his sarcasm settling heavy on my conscience. His words echoed in my mind: "Just what I wanted to deal with today – a medical crisis."
Why did I forget my medicine? It was a simple routine, yet I'd messed it up.
Kabir's frustration was palpable, and I didn't blame him. I felt like a burden, a constant source of worry. His mother, Nalini, had been kind, but I sensed her concern too.
As I sat there, feeling defeated, Kabir's gaze lingered on me. I sensed a mix of emotions: worry, frustration, and something softer.
Kabir's gaze lingered on me, his expression cold. "You're a ticking time bomb, Aashvi. A constant reminder of all the things that can go wrong. I'm tired of always cleaning up after you."
His words sliced through me like a knife, leaving me breathless. I felt my eyes well up with tears as I struggled to maintain my composure.
How could he say that?
I thought back to the moment earlier, when I thought I saw softness in his eyes. I must have been delusional.
"There's no softness, no kindness," I thought to myself. "I was wrong. He's never looked at me with compassion or concern. It's all just frustration and disappointment."
I felt a stinging sensation in my heart, realizing I'd misread him entirely.
"You're right, Kabir," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm sorry."
But Kabir didn't stop. "Sorry? You're always sorry, Aashvi. But nothing ever changes. You're still the same reckless, irresponsible person you've always been."
His words cut deep, reinforcing my newfound understanding.
"I was foolish to think he cared," I thought, tears streaming down my face. "He's never seen me as anything but someone who wronged him."
My mind flashed back to the past, to the pain I'd caused Kabir. I deserved this.
"I hurt him, betrayed his trust," I thought, self-loathing washing over me. "I deserve his anger, his disdain. I deserve to be treated like this."
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice Kabir's gaze intensifying. His voice broke my trance, jolting me back to reality.
"Take this," Kabir said brusquely, shoving the pill into my hand.
I looked up, startled by his abruptness. His eyes flashed with annoyance.
"Just take it, Aashvi," he snapped, his voice dripping with frustration.
I took the pill, my hand brushing against his. The brief touch sparked a flutter in my chest, but Kabir's expression remained cold.
He thrust a glass of water into my other hand. "Drink this."
His actions were rough, but I knew I deserved it. I swallowed the pill and sipped the water, feeling a lump form in my throat. Kabir's gaze lingered on me, his eyes critical.
"You're still so careless," he muttered, shaking his head. "Can't even remember your medicine."
His words cut deep, reinforcing my self-doubt.
"I'm sorry, Kabir," I whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
Kabir's expression didn't soften. "Sorry isn't enough, Aashvi. You need to change."
He turned to leave, but paused. "And try not to forget again."
With that, he walked away, leaving me feeling shattered.
