Finding the Lost Souls (Watty 2018)

4. DAY ONE

They say that with every crack of dawn comes a sliver of hope-a whisper of magic. But for those who have lived a life devoid of both for over fifteen years, such notions seem like distant dreams. For Ishita and Raman, this morning was supposed to be just like any other-a routine start to another monotonous day.

Golden rays pierced through the thick curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The October breeze carried with it a freshness that had been absent for years, accompanied by the sweet chimes of birds, as if the universe was celebrating something unseen.

Ishita stirred, feeling the light touch her face. She stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against something soft-rose petals. A smile formed on her lips as the delicate fragrance of roses filled her senses. But her smile faded as confusion set in. There are no rose plants at Appa's place...

Her eyes snapped open. The unfamiliar room around her sent a jolt of realization through her. She wasn't in her childhood home anymore. The shivers along her bare midriff reminded her of last night. Her wedding night.

Her gaze drifted to the end of the bed where Raman lay, fast asleep under another duvet. A wave of relief washed over her. She carefully slipped out of bed, her movements gentle and deliberate, not wanting to wake him. Standing in front of the vanity, she reached for the hairpins she had placed there last night.

As she attempted to free her long hair, her eyes caught her reflection-and the absence of the jewelry she had worn. Her hand instinctively touched her bare neck. Who removed it? She frowned in confusion.

"Raman...?" His name escaped her lips in a whisper, sending a shiver down her spine. She quickly dismissed the thought, recalling his indifference towards their relationship. It must have been Dai Ma, she reassured herself, focusing once again on untangling her hair.

The soft jingle of her bangles reached Raman's ears, pulling him from sleep. He groaned, burying his head under a cushion. "Arghh! Why does everything have to be so noisy this morning?" he muttered. His back ached, a dull reminder of the previous night, and now his head threatened to join in the rebellion.

Frustrated, he tossed the cushion aside and opened his eyes, only to be met with an unexpected sight-her.

Ishita's bare back glowed softly in the morning light, her figure blurred but unmistakably feminine. Her presence was a stark reminder of the new reality he now faced.

His gaze lingered on her. The scent that had clung to his bed now filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of roses. Her long, luscious hair cascaded over her shoulders, tangled in stubborn pins. Her delicate fingers struggled with the intricate locks, her face flushed with irritation.

Their eyes met through the mirror. Her doe-shaped eyes locked onto his for a brief moment before she looked away, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. Embarrassed, he quickly pulled the duvet over his face.

Ishita turned to the walk-in closet, her focus on finding something to wear. She grunted softly as she lifted her heavy suitcase.

"Leave that," came a voice from behind her.

She turned to find Raman standing there, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant chivalry. Without waiting for her response, he grabbed the suitcase and set it down with a thud on the stool.

"Huh... what did she pack in here? Clothes or stones?" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Ishita's eyes narrowed at his remark. What does he think of himself? she fumed silently. Of course, I brought my things. I'm his wife now. It's only natural I'll live here. Muttering under her breath, she grabbed her clothes and headed for the shower.