Solace

|62|between

Hi, I know it has been a long time, and I apologise for not informing you about my whereabouts. A lot was happening in my life—both personally and academically. And in the end, if nothing else, I have gained lessons. So many lessons.

It is fair to say: learn on your own, because if life is hell-bent on teaching you, you won't like the process. I also need to learn to make a difference between good and bad people—that's where I've been lacking.

I used to think some men were different, that there was still some goodness alive in them. But I was wrong. It takes just one moment for them to show who they really are.

After everything I went through, I was planning to update on the 12th. But on the same day, I received another piece of bad news. Trust me, I didn’t like this year at all.

An uncle from our neighbourhood died by suicide. He has three daughters. I can't even begin to say what must have driven him to that point, and I don't have the strength to speculate. Because only those who suffer truly understand the pain they are going through.

I truly appreciate those who reached out, and I also appreciate those who still want to read my story.

For now, updates might be a bit slower, but I will continue to write.

Thank you.

Happy Reading!

***

He turned around and pulled her into his arms. "There's nothing," he whispered, his breath brushing against her temple.

"I'm sorry… I ruined the night," he added, his voice trembling just enough to make her heart tighten. For once, Nidhi felt something she couldn't name—embarrassment, maybe shyness, or perhaps a strange ache that sat heavy in her chest.

She didn't want her thoughts to drift that way, but they did. She felt… different. Almost bare, almost vulnerable. How could he think of anything else in this moment, when her mind was nothing but him—his warmth, his nearness, the silence between them that said too much?

And just like that, without another word, the hug fell apart. He was the first to pull away, and she let him. They both moved to the bed, the air between them still warm but distant.

Even a whole day of exhaustion couldn't lull her into sleep. She kept rubbing her thumb against her index finger, a nervous rhythm she couldn't quiet. Turning her face slightly, she looked at him. He was asleep—or at least pretending to be. She had felt him moving earlier, turning from one side to the other, restless in his own thoughts. For a while, he had held her close. Then he had let go.

Now, he lay still, and she stared at the ceiling, the silence pressing heavier than words ever could.

***

The happenings of the night became more vivid in the morning. Nidhi woke up in a hurry; her husband had already left the bed. She hastily tied her hair into a loose bun and stepped down, her feet brushing against the cool floor. Her eyes fell on his T-shirt lying near the edge of the bed, then on her bra, and finally her blouse—scattered remnants of the night before.

Flustered, she bent down to gather them, her fingers trembling slightly. A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck; she should have picked them up last night itself. Turning quickly, she misjudged her step and bumped hard against the corner of the bed. Pain shot through her foot, making her wince.