•𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐰!•

36. This bitch.

N A K S H A T R A

The bell rang, and I could hear the click of the door opening. I looked up, only to see a woman standing there, wearing cheap, short clothes that barely covered her. I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, feeling my annoyance rise. "Who?" I asked, my voice sharp, but this woman had the audacity to ignore me completely.

She didn’t even spare me a glance as she pushed past me, heading straight for Adhwit. Without a second thought, she flung herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him in a way that made my blood boil. And Adhwit, damn him, actually hugged her back, grinning like it was perfectly normal.

I was already boiling with jealousy, the sight of them together making me feel like I was suffocating. I stepped forward, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “If you're done,” I snapped, unable to hide the bite in my voice, “take the discomfort to introduce her to me!” My words were sharp, dripping with frustration and jealousy as I stood there, watching them like an outsider.

The woman finally pulled away from him, giving me a dismissive glance, but Adhwit didn’t seem to notice the tension building in the room. “I'm Khushi, Adhwit's childhood friend.” she said giving me a lip tight smile. He was so absorbed in her attention, as if I wasn’t standing right there.

Days passed, and each one felt heavier than the last. Khushi continued to show up at the house, always so comfortable with Adhwit. They would laugh together, share inside jokes, and I couldn’t help but watch from the sidelines, feeling more like a third wheel every time. After my long shifts at the hospital, I’d come home exhausted, hoping for some peace, but every time I walked through the door, I found them sitting together, too close for my liking.

It felt like I was invisible. The more I tried to ignore it, the harder it became. Every time I would step into the room, I could see the way they interacted—like they were the only ones who mattered. The tension between us built up until I couldn’t take it anymore. One evening, as I entered, exhausted from the hospital, I saw them sitting on the couch, too comfortable, too familiar with each other. My heart sank.

Without thinking, I turned and ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. I sat there in the dark, my thoughts racing. I waited for Adhwit to come after me, to comfort me, to make things right, but he never did. The silence in the house was deafening, and I felt more alone than ever.

It was then that Paridhi called, her voice soothing as always. I told her what had been happening, how I felt invisible, and how it seemed like Adhwit was paying more attention to Khushi than to me. Paridhi listened patiently, then offered an idea that seemed so simple, yet powerful. “Why don’t you wear a saree?” she asked, her voice full of encouragement. “Wear it in a way that shows off your waist. Pair it with a waistband. Let him see you, Nakshatra. Let him see what he’s missing.”

Her words were like a spark, igniting something inside me. I hadn’t thought about doing something like that before, but as the idea settled in my mind, it felt like the right move. I needed to remind Adhwit of what he had, to show him that I was still here, still his.

I decided to follow Paridhi’s advice, to wear something that would make me stand out, something that would catch Adhwit’s attention. The next day, I slipped into a saree that accentuated my curves, making sure it hugged my body just right. The waistband sat perfectly around my waist, just as Paridhi had suggested, drawing attention to it. I made sure to move gracefully in front of him, my eyes watching for even the slightest reaction.

But no matter how much I tried, it seemed like he didn’t notice. I’d walk through the room, my steps slow, my saree flowing behind me, and yet, his focus remained elsewhere. His gaze never strayed toward me, not in the way I hoped. He was lost in his thoughts, in whatever task he had, too absorbed to see what I was trying to show him.

It stung. Each time I tried to get his attention, it felt like I was invisible to him. The more I flaunted myself in front of him, the more distant he seemed. It was as if all my efforts were in vain. I wanted him to see me, to recognize that I was still here, still trying to keep us close, but it felt like he didn’t care. The frustration built up inside of me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between us, something I couldn’t fix with a simple saree or a gesture.

Despite my best efforts, it felt like every attempt to capture his attention only pushed me further away. I would watch him as he went about his day, so engrossed in whatever he was doing, completely unaware of the way my heart ached with each passing moment. I thought that if I made myself more noticeable, more alluring, he would remember me, remember the woman he once adored. But nothing seemed to break through the wall he had built between us.

Each day felt longer, the tension rising in my chest, the jealousy gnawing at my insides. I had always been the woman who cared, who gave, but now I was starting to feel like I was giving into a void, expecting something that would never come back. I’d catch glimpses of him smiling at his phone or talking to someone—probably Khushi—and the jealousy twisted in my gut, harder each time. I wanted him to look at me like that, to smile at me with the same warmth he showed everyone else.

I started to lose myself in my thoughts, trying to understand where things went wrong. I knew he still loved me, at least, that’s what I told myself. But it felt like I was becoming a ghost in my own relationship, the vibrant woman I once was slowly fading into the background.

One evening, as I walked into the living room, my saree trailing behind me, I noticed him on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through papers. I tried again, moving in front of him, letting my movements catch his eye. But nothing. He didn’t look up. It was as though he was deliberately ignoring me, or maybe he had grown tired of trying too. The thought was suffocating, the silence between us louder than ever.

I stood there for a moment, trying to steady my breath. I could feel my patience wearing thin, the anger and frustration bubbling up. Why wasn’t he looking at me? Why was he so distant? I wanted to scream, but instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. I was still holding on, even though I didn’t know what to hold onto anymore.

And then it hit me—he hadn’t come to pick me up anymore. Not like he used to. Not with the same excitement or affection. I had to rely on Paridhi to help me get home. She would stay with me until the evening, comforting me with her soft words, her presence a constant reminder that I wasn't entirely alone. She’d listen to me vent, try to help me make sense of my feelings, but nothing could erase the ache I felt deep inside.

After Paridhi would leave, I’d sit in the silence of our home, waiting for him to come to me, but he never did. The space between us grew wider with each passing day, and no matter how hard I tried to bridge that gap, he seemed to retreat even further. It felt like he didn’t even care to notice, like I was just another part of the furniture in this house, something he had grown used to and no longer appreciated.

And still, I wore the saree, still I tried to capture his attention, but I was met with the same indifference. Each night, I found myself retreating to the room, the same loneliness wrapping around me tighter than ever.

Sorry for the late updates, but here enjoy the double updates and praise me!! Hehe! 😉