Accidentally yours

Chapter 41

|Nikita|

After 3 months...

xx Day 90 without you xx

"I won't lie to you, these past few months have been agonizing. My heartache is silent; you won't hear my cries because they echo within. It feels like my heart is being pulled by the saddest melodies, playing on repeat. The stop button seems broken, and I'm tired of listening to this sorrow over and over. Three months have passed, and a new life is developing inside me. Every day, I've been quietly dying inside, waiting for you to come and hold me in those arms I've longed for. I'm trying to be strong for our child, but it's not easy, Virat! I need you by my side. I want you to fulfill my 2 a.m. cravings and hear my early morning rants. Don't let go of this hope, Virat! The hope of waiting for you is what keeps me going. The more I try not to think about you, the more my tears spill out here, where you'll never read them. I love you, Vee ♡."

Another email saved in drafts.

It had been more than 3 months since I moved to Australia, and my first trimester of pregnancy was nearing its end. Thankfully, everything was progressing normally, a blessing from God. The thought that a life was growing inside me was beyond incredible. My child! In six months, I would become a mother. This realization sent shivers down my spine every time, wondering how I would manage without Virat. These three months had been fraught with challenges, but most significantly, they had been without Virat.

Was I prepared for all this?

Not at all! Unlike other girls, I never dreamed of a perfect, extravagant wedding. I simply wanted to marry the imperfect person whose flaws were perfect for me, and that was Virat. But who could have foreseen life taking such a miserable turn? Leaving behind my dreams and career, I found myself here, in the process of becoming a mother. It had been more than 90 days, and every week I wrote an email to Virat, counting the days I survived without him, only to save it in the drafts folder each time. No matter how much I wanted to call him, to yell at him for abandoning me, to cry on his shoulder, to kiss him endlessly and let him know how much I missed him, to slap him hard for punishing me for a crime I never committed, to tell him that he would soon be a father — I couldn't. I just couldn't do it. I had promised myself to leave everything to fate this time.

I took a deep breath before getting out of bed and walked outside, where Anusha was preparing breakfast. My body had changed significantly after the first trimester; the baby bump was visible. I no longer looked like a model, but there was a different kind of glow on my face.

"Heya! Good morning! Here are your oats and milk," she said, entering with a tray in her hands.

Now, I must admit, Anusha was behaving exactly like my mom would if she were here.

"Oats? I hate oats, Anusha!" I made a face of disgust.

"Are you kidding me, Niks? Just yesterday, you practically dragged me out of the house to get oats!" She looked amused.

"I don't know! I don't want to eat them now! I want pasta," I pouted.

Okay, I admit, my mood swings annoyed Anusha to no end. Every time I asked her to cook something, only to change my mind later, she never complained or scolded me. She would simply laugh at my antics and accommodate my whims.

"You and your mood swings! You know what? More than anything, I need Virat here!" She chuckled a bit, noticing my sadness, and quickly changed the subject.

"Ohooo! I'll get you your pasta now. Please don't change your mind until then," she teased before leaving.

I turned on the TV and switched to a sports channel. For these months, this was how I saw Virat — through the screen. His South Africa series had ended, meaning he would return to India soon. I wondered if he had thought about me during these months. Had he tried to contact me? Did he miss me as much as I missed him?

Or had he forgotten me? This thought shattered me every single time. Isn't it strange how someone can have such a profound impact on you? Trying to push these thoughts away, I shifted my gaze to the TV.

My eyes lit up seeing my man at his last press conference before leaving for India. For some reason, I felt a sense of relief knowing he was coming back, even though I was no longer in India. The thought that he might come looking for me kept me going.

"So, Virat, how do you feel about your century in the last match?" one of the reporters asked, as Anusha brought a plate of pasta and sat beside me.

"Obviously, it feels good, but not as much as the team's win. If I score a century and the team loses, the century means nothing to me. Even if my 30 runs contribute to a win, that would be more important," I silently wished I could pull him out of the TV and embrace him tightly.

"Okay, sir, a question off the cricket field. Your lady luck doesn't seem to be with you these days. Is that a sign of something?" another reporter asked nervously.

My breath caught as he mentioned me. I swallowed in fear, unsure of how he would respond. The camera zoomed in on Virat, his eyes slightly teary, his face suddenly pale. It pained me to see him like this.

For the first time since our separation, his expression wasn't one of anger but of guilt when he heard my name. But why? My curiosity peaked, wondering what he would say next.

"Yes, it's a sign that I have a lot to make up for. I won't say more on this. Thank you," he said, standing up and ending the press conference.

A sign to make things right?

Did he? Did he mean he wanted to come back to me? Had he realized something? Could this be a glimmer of hope?

I closed my eyes tightly, recalling every moment we shared together, no matter how small or rare. They were beautiful because you were in them. The conversation between us had come to a halt. Virat, this distance is killing me from the inside. Come back soon, or these wounds will deepen, making healing difficult. Until then, I might lose myself.

"Kehte hai dua qubool hone ka bhi ek waqt hota hai, hairan hoon main ki maine tumhe kabhi nahi maanga."

~~