Unnamed Thoughts

8. 'Dissolving Marriage?'

When Dev came back from office around nine that night, Sonakshi was sitting on the sofa. Her eyes were moist as she sat in a large gray sweatshirt and a pair of fitted, faded jeans. Her hair was carelessly pulled into a bun at the back of her head and the tears were now sliding down her cheeks with Dev's presence.

She stood up, dropping the phone on the floor, without bothering to pick it up. "Your dinner is in the kitchen, if you need it you can warm it up." She didn't even care to wipe her cheeks as her tears slip into the corners of her mouth. "Good night."

He watched her leave in utter shock. He'd never seem Sonakshi this broken, falling apart like this. He'd never yelled at her and nor had he ever before seen her so sacred of him. She was scared of him since this afternoon. When he'd expected to yell at him and maybe tell her she loved him, she didn't. Instead left him with the bitter taste of the truth that clearly stated that she still loved his brother, her first and only love, Jatin Dixit. But he would still see to her and say sorry, make sure she had her dinner, because he knew she didn't.

He didn't bother to knock, simply walked in with a tray in his hands. Se was sitting in the warmth of her bed, the fire burning in the fire place, Bach's music playing in the background and a book in her hands, above the pillow that rested on her legs.

First he set the tray of food on the table beside the bed. Then without a thought a care he took the book from her, picked up the beautiful bookmark and marked the book, set it aside.

She was looking down at the bronze colored pillow, tracing a figure on its patterns. The ring wasn't in her hands again, he noticed looking at them, then holding them in place.

"I'm sorry." Finally, she looked at him with the apology. "I shouldn't have been angry this morning."

He hated himself at the moment. He had been the one to make the mistake and here he was sitting hours later accepting an apology from his wife who he should have been loving to make up to. But then who said he'd accepted. He hadn't refused either.

"You should go to bed now." She shifted taking her hands back and laid down.

Bach's music was still playing and above it she heard the crackling of the wood burning in fire. The way she was burning with the warmth of Dev's breath against her cheek when he kissed her. But she held enough strengthen to allow him to know she wasn't moved by it. And, like she'd wanted to at his touch, she didn't close her eyes wishing for more. Instead accepting she was never getting anything more.

"Does that mean you've forgiven me?" she asked not turning but closing her eyes when he sat up again. He left the room leaving the food there.

After that kiss he didn't touch her once. Instead he stayed away from her, far enough to where she could reach out for him but still not be able to get a hold of him.

On the morning of September 11 she watched the news, laying in bed. The morning was gray and dark, ironically. She'd been awake since five in the morning and couldn't find the will of getting out of bed to shower and prepare Dev's breakfast. She listened, to her most hated president, Bush, announce the names of the people who'd died today five years ago. When Jatin's name was finally announced she was able to closed the TV and turn her face into the pillow for another long cry.

She missed him, it was that simple. You didn't need to love someone, a man, romantically to miss him because he was such a great friend, who died too early. Before his time and without making a mistake. The man had never done wrong to anyone and never would have. He loved her unconditionally, when he knew well she didn't love him. He knew she loved someone else, but he didn't knew who. He told her he would never force her into anything. He'd given her the right to break their engagement and leave him the second she'd wanted to. But she never did. There was no point in doing so.