Innaya Kapoor, granddaughter of late Mr. Viraj Kapoor agrees to disagree with the concept of love. So obviously, marriage is off limit, driven by her own experiences of relationships.
Worried for his granddaughter, Mr. Kapoor before passing away, ch...
If two weeks before someone would have told me, I would be comfortably snuggling with the person I have never seen before I would have probably laughed till my stomach ached and tears fell from my eyes, of course after beating some sense in that person's head. However, I am forced to question my own judgment as I found myself putting my arms around my husband.
The image of nine years old me, struggling to breathe as the pain in my back worsened screaming for my mother, appeared in front of my closed eyes.
That memory had me tighten my hold, around him as I felt something wet on my cheek. I realized tears were running down through my closed eyelids, not wanting to ruin his shirt I pressed my eyelids tightly to stop the traitorous tears.
The week-long stay in the hospital, four stitches, injections, those IV's, and the sympathetic glances of staff, as well as relatives, were permanently etched in my memory. That incident not only caused the damage physically to me but also had affected me mentally much more badly. Sometimes it is not the wound that hurts because over the time that will heal however, scars left will haunt the person forever.
The gentle caresses on my back helped me to compose my distresses self along with the comfort his presence so close to me had provided. I pulled back after sometimes making sure to avoid Eshan's eyes and turned away wiping my face hastily with the scarf to remove any traces of tears.
Wordlessly we left from there for our home.
*
Deep down, I knew it was not Eshan's fault to take me to the hospital yet I could not bring myself to talk with him. He was not aware that the simple visit would turn out to be the painful reminder. I should have told him but I could not bring myself to share something so personal.
Being my husband, he had every right to know everything, but how could I trust him? From childhood, I had been less talkative with people I barely knew and I hoped while detailing about me Granny had not missed telling Eshan this important information.
Maybe that was the reason he did not force me to express or share. He remained by my side offering me his silent support. I had seen questions swirling in his eyes yet somehow he kept them to himself not voicing them.
"Innaya," Eshan's hesitant voice, called me from the bedroom door. I looked up from my laptop at him.
His face held guilty expression; I realized he was probably beating himself for my reaction.
"I... I am."
"Eshan, come here." I gestured him towards recliner I was sitting.
"What should I make for dinner?" I asked changing the topic as he sat beside me.
"Innaya, I am-
I interrupted his apology, "Eshan, it's not your fault. You did what you felt right," trying to assure him.
"I know the shot was needed, what I am saying is I am sorry to force you there like this. I did not know," Eshan answered taking my palm in his playing with my fingers, keeping his eyes on them.
"Exactly, you did not know. So it's okay." I answered looking at his face avoiding the sensation his fingers created on my skin.
"Now tell me what should I make?" I repeated hoping he would let go the topic.
"There is something for you downstairs, come," Eshan said standing up tugging at my hand.
I stared at his face, noticing he still did not meet my eyes. I stood up keeping my attention in his eyes that were busy looking away from me.
I raised my hand, placing it on his right side of face surprising myself. His eyes turned to it first then traveled to my face. I felt my breath hitched as I notice the raw pain in those eyes that I was used to seeing vibrant, amused, surprised, assuring, and so much but never pained.
"Eshan," hoarse whisper of his name left my lips unconsciously. The sudden lump in my throat, an elevated beating of my heart and stinging sensation in my eyes had me stumble back withdrawing by hand suddenly from his face as if burned.
You are a disappointment.
You brought bad luck to my life.
I gave you everything and you ruined my life.
Those voices came back to haunt me. "I... I am... sorry Eshan..." I mumbled not knowing what to say or do. In that, moment first time I felt frustration at me for doing this to anyone especially to my husband who had done everything keeping my comfort in his mind. I felt horrible person.
It was me who had cut herself, it was me who did not tell him my fear about injection, it was me who was reserved. Here he was blaming himself for putting me through something, which was my fault.
What had I done?
My feet no longer able to hold my weight, they gave in and I felt myself sinking down on the floor as sobs racked my body. I covered my face with my hands unable to see the disappointment I caused to him, that was one of reasons. I never wanted to involve anyone in my life.
I draw my knees together to shove away that depressing feeling shaking my head covering my ears somehow to mute those voices. Nothing worked! I curled myself rocking, my body harshly to just, make everything disappear. I wanted my mother to hold me, to assure me it would be fine.
I felt someone call my name frantically, worried. Seconds later, I felt myself being pulled into a hug, a steady voice whispering words in my ears that I could not comprehend. I did not know, for how much time I sat there crying while the comforting hands held me. Slowly, everything started fading away as I felt too exhausted to make sense of anything.
Before losing myself in darkness, I heard the deep voice softly whispering in my ears, "You will be fine!"
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