Finding the Lost Souls (Watty 2018)

7. ANOTHER PARTY ON THE WAY

Opposites Attract—an age-old saying, yet so relevant. The harder one resists, the stronger the pull becomes. This law isn’t limited to physics but plays out in life as well.

Two souls, lying on opposite sides of the bed, pretended to sleep. In the stillness of the night, the only sound they could hear was the rapid thumping of their own hearts. Sleep remained a distant dream, their minds racing with endless thoughts.

Ishita lifted her hand, gently caressing the bandage Raman had put on her finger. The small encounter in the kitchen was something she had never expected in her new married life. Her finger throbbed with pain, yet it brought an odd sense of comfort. She stared at the injury, realizing how much her life had shifted in just ten days. From being engaged to a stranger, to vowing not to fall for him—yet her heart, once resolute, softened at the sight of his concern when she winced in pain.

Lying on their respective sides, backs facing each other, they remained silent. The distance between them felt both vast and fragile. Ishita hugged a cushion tightly, letting sleep take over her restless mind, knowing that the road ahead was long and uncertain.

On the other side, Raman stared absently at his phone, his thoughts far from the screen. "She is different," he murmured to himself.
This marriage, a relationship he had initially dreaded, was already stirring something unfamiliar in him. He recalled the moments from the previous night—her innocence, her effort, and the quiet warmth she brought to the dinner table.
From the day of their engagement, he had wanted nothing more than to distance himself from her. Yet now, his heart longed to know her better.

Raman’s heart and mind were at war. The emotional scars from his past—the rejection, the indifference from his parents—had hardened him. He had convinced himself he didn’t deserve love, and that belief had turned him into a man who guarded his heart fiercely. Love, for him, was a vulnerability, a weakness he couldn't afford.

But Ishita... she was quietly challenging those walls. She didn’t fit the narrative he had built in his mind. His heart urged him to give her a chance, but his mind resisted, reminding him of the pain that comes with trust. "I can’t let anyone break me again," he thought, caught in the tug-of-war between his emotions and his logic.

Eventually, with his heart conflicted and his mind restless, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

---

The Next Morning

Raman yawned lazily, the warmth of the morning sun pulling him from sleep. His eyes remained heavy from the restless night, but he knew the day awaited him. Silencing the alarm, he turned over to face Ishita.
She was still asleep, lost in her own dreamland. He chuckled softly, listening to her gentle snores, and his eyes drifted to her bandaged hand resting on the cushion. The stray tendrils of her hair danced across her face, and his fingers itched to brush them away.
"She looks... peaceful," he thought, his heart softening again.

Shaking off the thought, he rose from the bed and headed to the washroom, drawing the curtains just enough to let in the light without disturbing her sleep.

By the time he returned, Ishita was awake, busy tidying the bed.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

"Good morning," she replied softly.

"How’s your hand now?"

"It’s fine. The cut was just on my finger, not my hand," she clarified with a small smile.

Raman raised an eyebrow. "You cut three fingers, not one. Technically, the injury is on your hand, not just your finger. Samjhi?"

Ishita blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of his logic. Raman, amused by her expression, chuckled inwardly.