𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑻𝑨: 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐞 - Yours With All My Heart

|53|•ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ•

ANIRUDH

The door creaked open, and there he was—Kabir. His expression was unreadable, but his presence reminded me of the gravity of my actions. My anger—my impulsiveness—had once again left destruction in its wake. The regret gnawed at me like an unrelenting beast.

It wasn’t just about doubting their friendship; it was about doubting her. Bondita—my Bondita. The woman whose trust I had shattered, the one person who deserved better than my misplaced rage.

We stood there in an awkward silence. Neither of us spoke, and honestly, what was there to say? Apologies felt futile after what I’d done. Finally, I forced myself to break the silence.

“Kabir, I…” The words faltered in my throat. My mind screamed say sorry, but my pride, my guilt—it all held me back. Taking a breath, I continued, “I want to meet Bondita.”

His eyes darkened momentarily before he wordlessly stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. The silence was deafening, and for Kabir—a man who always filled the room with his words—it felt unnatural. Had I ruined not just my relationship with Bondita, but the friendship I had with him, too?

Stepping inside, my eyes fell on the dinner table. There she was, sitting there, her laughter echoing faintly as she talked with—wait, Naina?

Naina is here too?.

The realization hit me like a brick. While I was busy spiraling in suspicion and anger, jumping to conclusions, here she was with Kabir and Naina. My so-called “best friend,” Mishti, had fed me lies that I so readily believed, and in the process, I’d doubted the most important people in my life.

Bondita’s laughter faltered as her gaze shifted toward me. The spoon she was holding slipped from her grasp, landing on her plate with a loud clang. Her wide, startled eyes blinked at me as if she wasn’t sure I was real.

For a moment, everything stood still. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Then, as Kabir moved behind me, she snapped out of her trance and shot up from her chair. She looked nervous—no, more than that. She looked scared.

I hated that.

She approached me hesitantly, her movements deliberate and careful. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths—something she always did when trying to suppress her anger. When she finally stopped in front of me, her voice was strained but firm.

“Anirudh, listen,” she began, her tone pleading yet laced with frustration. “I don’t want any fights or arguments here. Right now, I don’t care what you think about my friendship with Kabir, but you’re wrong. Whatever’s going through your head, it’s a lie—a complete lie. I know you don’t trust me right now, but that’s the truth.”

Her words came out in one hurried breath, her hands slightly trembling. I wanted to comfort her, to hold her hands and tell her I believed her, but guilt anchored me in place.

“I just want to talk to you…alone,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. It wasn’t intentional—I just didn’t know how to let my vulnerability show.

She inhaled sharply, her jaw tightening. She didn’t trust me to keep my temper in check, and I didn’t blame her.

“Listen, I don’t—”

“Please,” I interrupted softly, the word carrying more weight than I intended.

She bit her lip—a habit she had when conflicted—and after a brief pause, she relented. “Fine,” she said curtly before turning toward Kabir.

Without saying anything to him, she walked off, her steps quick and deliberate. I followed her upstairs in silence, the tension between us palpable. She led me into a room, and as soon as I shut the door behind us, she spun around to face me.