| 'Time' Series: Book One |
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The workings of her brain were a mystery to her own pneuma.
That's what Hinduja Rao always thought.
But, quite similar to her thoughts about her own self, was someone else around her.
Her newly wedded husband, the...
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Word Count : 3700
Target : 120 Votes
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59 | The Formidable King & His Heroic General
Looking out of the soothingly warm darkness of the arched entrance, he stepped out of the closet into the bedroom while closing its door behind him.
Long gone was the broken man from the previous night, and dead were the infinite tears that had flowed out from the corners of his eyes. Instead, Hinduja saw someone else coming out of the closet in place of that broken man—someone who was in control, someone who made power beg at his feet, someone she was accustomed to seeing around her every day from the last six months.
Clad in navy blue formals, a formal khaki shirt, a pair of black oxford shoes, and a double-breasted blazer, with his hair set into soft black curls, the man fastened his watch around his wrist and readjusted the platinum jewel around his ring finger while smiling at her.
Suddenly it dawned upon her.
Dev was gone. Mahadevan Dogra was back.
So, who was it that was real?
This man who was walking towards her, so majestic in his bearing?
Or that man from the previous night, who had crumbled down into bits and pieces right in front of her eyes?
She examined his eyes behind his rimless rectangular specs, his earthy brown irises, and she couldn't understand the blandness in them. It's not that they were any different on any other day. They were always of the same color and the same shade. But when she rewound the memories of the events of the night that had passed by, she found herself recalling the sudden vividness in those earthy irises that she had witnessed during his PTSD episode, as if splattered with the most lucid and fluttery shade of brown.
The shade was sad, yet it contained life.
And now, that he was in front of her again, in his regular form, that vividness in his irises was lost, almost like a shirt that had been washed too many times, and that too within the time period of one single night.
