In His Custody ✎ | (MaNan)

✰ 67 - rooh da mothi

Happy belated Independence Day and Happy Krishna Janmashtami for those who celebrate! :") It's such a nostalgic time to be away from home, so I slipped in something special with this update, I hope you enjoy it :")

And for all those who do not relate to Nandini from the last couple of updates, I want to say, I deliberately did not delve into the rationality of their 'happy' moments from her perspective.

Healing is not a linear process and often, we tend to cling to the ideas we're most comfortable with instead of confronting reality or seeing life outside rose-tinted glasses.

Word count: 6211

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Nandini

Manik's humour slowly dwindled out and brought with it a menacing silence, one that forced me to confront certain compartmentalised aspects: of myself, of the seven years that passed between Manik and I, and the several parts of him I was still a stranger to.

Only minutes ago, when he joked about certain incidents in our past – like refusing to recharge my phone when he could – it twisted certain old wounds I thought had scabbed over... with time.

I didn't think or believe a silly remark, especially from him, on our relationship would rub a sore spot in any way. But what it brought to light was the barricade – to his life, to his shortcomings – that I was blindsided to the first time around. Things could not just go back to normal, like a switch.

That wasn't how matters related to the heart worked, but I hated that I didn't know how to even express that frustration... at a level I would be taken seriously. If he was stunted in some ways, I was too. 

Especially since the time he said the words 'miss me' as we parted at my department lunch room, I had been actively avoiding slipping down that slope... spiralling into self-loathing, for how much control he had over me. Or rather, how little I had on my own.

Abhi was right in that from the surface level, and his perspective, everything seemed normal between Manik and I; it was just far easier to subdue that self-hatred and focus on the happy times. Like... this time, it was a conscious choice I had made to stitch my happiness together, and play life by my choices.

But for how long? How long, of glazing over all my other emotions, would it take until I got my answers from him? And could I hold myself together until then, without caving?

I was already close to breaking once today, when he sang for me. And by the rate in which my cruel heart craved his presence around me, or how my body devoted itself to the representation of my destruction... just like no time had passed at all... I bit down on a lip to suppress my helpless tears that brimmed, and squeezed my eyes shut.

This weakness was reminiscent and familiar of myself from seven years ago. 

"I also for the first time felt like a big brother today," He chirped while playing with one of the spoons handed to him on the plate. I snapped my eyes open at the first confession he dwelled into all day, and quickly dotted the edge of my eyes with a finger. "Yeah, Mukti was..." He was about to say more, but happened to glance at a delicious plate of food and meaningfully gestured a curve from his throat outwards.

My throat was mildly cleared to focus on problems outside myself.

"Huh? She puked?" He nodded, sending me into another spiral. "Aiyappa! What is this girl exactly allergic to?"

"She's not allergic to anything... as far as I know."

"No, these days she complains often about tummy issues with everything she eats. In fact, she is exclusively on a home-cooked diet because of this, and even that is upsetting her stomach."