H I M
The one he'd die for, wanted to kill him the same,
But death would be a guest he'd welcome, if she promised to sit by his grave.
................................................
H E R
If there was a list of all the sins she was t...
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Sanyukta knew no poison could take her life.
Being fed a drop of poison every day, since she was a child, her father had made sure no attempts on her life could ever be accomplished. She had tasted poison far more lethal than the one she had consumed in the dining room.
Even though she was immune to poison, her body always showed the symptoms of a poisoned person, eliciting no doubt about her ability. Lying on her bed, surrounded by people, she had been mildly conscious of the way the Raj Vaidya had examined her, making her eat some herbs that had sedated her.
Siddhant had carried her to her room, in his arms, and this had caused a commotion among the people. The ladies with fake concern had followed them for gossip, while the men were unbothered, except for the close ones.
She was listening to the talks of the ladies, pretending to be unconscious, before her husband demanded their disappearance.
"Leave." He had said, and there was a grit in his voice when he added, "Nobody shall enter this room without my permission."
The sound of fading footsteps had followed right after his command, before a serene silence fell in the room.
"You can open your eyes now. It's just me."
A wave of surprise washed over her, before she timidly opened her eyes, too tired to explain herself.
"How are you feeling, wife?" His image was a blurred portrait, her eyes heavy with something unsettling.
Instead of answering him, she tried to get up, using the support of her hands. But the sedation had made her weak, causing her limbs to quiver with the weight. A groan left her mouth.
"Easy." Large hands came around her, steadying her as he helped her rest her head back, arranging a cushion to support her back.
She felt a cold touch across her forehead, her head reflexively tilting back.
"You are feverish." He said, his voice laced with worry.
Fever. Yes. She was burning. She could feel it.
"Here, drink it." She felt a cold metal touch her lips, before the liquid calmed her throat. It was as if he had brought life to her lips. Her heavy eyelids grew lighter, as the picture of her husband tending to her grew clear with every gulp.
"I see such concern in your eyes, yet you claim to wish death upon me. How am I to believe you?" She whispered softly.
Her brain was too foggy to catch his reaction to her words, but she didn't miss the soft sigh that left his lips.
"I would never wish death upon you." Was it regret in his voice? Or was it guilt? Maybe both.
"But you shouldn't trust me." He added slowly, as if he was warning her. Why?
