Layers of Us

Chapter 17: Unspoken Confessions

Ram’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. The tension from the meeting still simmered in his chest, fueling an inexplicable restlessness.

Every word spoken by Palash and Tripura replayed in his mind, further unsettling him. Instead of heading straight to hotel, he instinctively veered the car in another direction — a path he’d recently come to associate with solace.

Juhu Beach.

The salty breeze and the sound of waves crashing against the shore had become his refuge — a place where the chaos within him found a semblance of calm. He pulled into the parking lot, the rhythmic hum of the sea beckoning him.

Exiting his car, Ram stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked toward the water, his eyes scanning the horizon. The silvery - grey glow of the moon reflected on the gently lapping waves, illuminating the beach in a serene glow.

As he stepped closer to the shore, a lone silhouette came into view. It was seated on the sand, facing the vast expanse of the ocean. Ram slowed his pace, his heartbeat quickening inexplicably as the figure became clearer.

The familiarity of that posture, the way the moonlight caught the curve of their face, the aura of calm surrounding them — it was undeniable.

His breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat when realization struck.

Tripura.

She sat there, her arms wrapped around her knees, the gentle breeze toying with her hair. The faint light painted her in a way that made her seem ethereal, almost otherworldly.

Ram’s steps faltered for a moment. He had not expected to see her here, of all places, at this hour. What was she doing alone on the beach? Was she as restless as him?

Swallowing his emotions, Ram resumed walking, his feet crunching against the sand.

The closer he got, the more his unease grew. His heart was a jumble of emotions — confusion, guilt, and something he wasn’t ready to name.

He stopped a few feet away, close enough to see the faint tear tracks on her cheeks.

The waves gently lapped against the shore as Ram settled beside Tripura. The silence between them wasn’t heavy; it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, filled with the echoes of their unresolved emotions.

Tripura had already sensed his presence even before he sat down, the distinct, woody scent of his cologne announcing him. Yet, she didn’t flinch or acknowledge him immediately.

Her tears, steady and quiet, continued their path down her cheeks. Ram glanced at her, the moonlight casting a glow on her delicate features. The wind teased her hair, strands swaying gracefully as if dancing to the rhythm of the sea.

He said nothing, merely observing her with a twinge of helplessness. He could see the weight she carried — the turmoil etched on her face, the vulnerability she tried so hard to mask.

Her voice, soft and broken, cut through the sound of the waves.
“I never wanted marriage in life, Mr. Kapoor.”

Ram’s gaze shifted to her face, her words drawing his full attention. He remained silent, letting her speak.
“I always hated the concept of marriage, of love, or anything that was remotely related to romance,” she continued, her tone bitter yet filled with a strange melancholy.

Ram didn’t interrupt. He didn’t dare. There was something raw and fragile about her words, like a wound freshly exposed to air.

For a few moments, she fell silent, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The ocean stretched endlessly before them, mirroring the uncertainty in her heart.