Hi,
Just cause I can't leave it unconcluded and the 1st part gave rise to some tantalizing questions. Especial mention to sree10 who wanted me to expand the first part into something heart wrenching and more detailed. Here you go dear, I sincerely hope this is what you wanted.
Please enjoy everyone!
Hum bewafa hargiz na the
Par hum wafa kar na sake
Hum ko mili uss ki sazaa
Hum jo khata kar na sake
He starts frequenting her teashop, but never speaks a word. At times she watches him from the counter, her gaze hidden under the luxurious curtains of her eyelashes. His tastes have not changed, she notices silently, adding another handful of orange blossoms to her brew of golden tea. There is still that spark in his eyes when he smells that rich fragrance. His each visit, leaves a trail of questions behind and she often stays awake at nights trying to trace those paths towards sense.
What was he doing here? Why was his light always on at nights? Was he overworking himself? How was everyone back at home? Did Shivay and Annika move past their pasts? Did Rudra finally confess to Saumya? Is Maa ji alright? Did he talk to her recently?
Every morning she resolves to herself to ask him those questions, each morning she is left blank when her eyes find his. Each morning he leaves in silence, burdening her with a bout of fresh questions.
The charade of silence continues, until one evening she locks herself out of her apartment, forgetting the key on her kitchen counter along with her phone. She tries all the tricks in the book, starting from a spike to a hairpin; the door refuses to open. He watches her from his door way, silent as always, arms folded against his chest.
A few more tries and a good kick or two later, he invites her inside, to wait until they can call someone to open it for them. His voice is too cautious, as if afraid that she might bite. Throwing her arms in the air, sighing in defeat, she follows him in.
The moment she enters, she realizes; it's a studio not a home. There are buckets of paints, bottles of colors, easels, canvas, spot lights, sculptures, and tools. He offers her to sit on a paint - splashed sofa and disappears inside, giving her a moment to collect herself. Her eyes wonder the space, suddenly feeling home, her heart expanding with an unusual peace. There are many half finished arts, watching her like silent spies, guarding their master's secrets. She tiptoes around them, breathing in a hushed silence, touching their dried surfaces with the tips of her fingers.
His art has changed, the earlier paler shades and softer edges giving into darker colors and bolder strokes. The serenity of yore is replaced by a chaos of emotions. Reds. Blacks and blues seem to be his new favorites. From the hazy blur of thoughts, sometimes a pair of eyes like hers stare out, some of those veiled sculptures have her features; she feels scared, to be surrounded by so many replicas of her own self, to be exposed to shades of herself she had never noticed before to exist, to know that throughout all this time, she had been continuously on his mind.
Why didn't he say anything, when she was accusing him of her own inability to move on? Why didn't he tell her, he was going through something similar?
Tears prick her eyes and she hastily blink them away. He returns with his mobile and a cup of smoking coffee, a grim smile curling his lips. He notices her state, but chooses not to comment. They call the key maker and a minute passes in silence.
YOU ARE READING
Pyaar Ke Liye - RiKara OS
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