A Life Of Lies | ✔

Hansika • 3

I know that life is not easy. I know that choices are not easy. I know that I have to reap what I have sown. But at times like this, I think God is watching me, temporarily letting my sins pass by and giving me a bit of what He thinks I can have because I was good at some time, someday, somewhere.

Ayansh had just put on the table the idea of taking the week off and travelling somewhere, just the two of us. And despite all the perils attached to this idea and just the feeling of exposure I get when I'm not at home, my heart is but a wanderer. So, I agreed.

In our twisted married life, we hadn't taken a single tour together yet. So, this could technically be our honeymoon. Well, if you exclude the fact that I'm already pregnant.

Jeez, too early to joke about it, I scowl at my immature self.

"So, where to, hun?" he asks later when we're getting ready for bed, and I raised my eyebrows at him, hands on my hips. He smiles cheekily as he justifies. "What? It seems like a good short form for 'Hansika' and it's cute!"

I roll my eyes, stifling my grin. He can be the cutest without even trying. Fixing my hair into a messy bun, I get to the side of the bed and place my legs under the warm covers. Ayansh is by my side in seconds, his legs providing mine with extra warmth. He reaches for the laptop on the bedside and opens it.

"Within India or out of India?" He asks as he makes pillows for me to lie my back on and get comfortable. I don't know if my hormones are already kicking in or if he's extra sweet today.

I curl my hands on his arms and sigh. "Inside. I don't want any Passport procedure."

He hums in agreement. "Yes, that could mean we can leave as early as possible. Now, where in India? North, Northeast, South? Pick one."

My mouth works faster than my mind as it immediately says, "Shillong."

Ayansh tilts his head towards me. "Wow, that was specific. Why Shillong?"

"I don't know. The other day at the clinic, a sweet girl left behind her storybook during her visit. It had a tale of a little kid enjoying his vacation in Shillong and going on a little explorer hunt to find out the lost mother of a security officer man he knew."

"Did they find her?" he asks.

I look into the horizon and reply. "Yes, but as a corpse."

"Sheesh, what kind of a kid's tale is that?"

I shrug and lie my head on his bare shoulders. "I loved it. The way the town was described, the way everything went through our mind from that of the little boy and his innocence radiating off with his actions. The town seemed so peaceful."

I don't have to use my peripheral vision to notice the big smile on Ayansh's lips. He plants a soft kiss on top of my head as he logs into his laptop and starts looking at flights. As he gets busy with booking flights and hotels, I take a step back and look at the life we have created for ourselves. He gave me life and he told me he loved me and I gave him my hand in return. We both know there are unfinished holes in the stories we've created, but our harmony in this choreographed life is that we pretend there are no holes.

If an outsider asks me to narrate the tale of our lives, this would be it: boy meets girl, girl meets boy. Love meets them. Boy finds purpose in life again, girl finds a new angle of life. Boy and girl become one in love. Boy proposes and girl accepts, society does not. Couple elopes, gets married with the witness of the moon and the passive sun surrounded by glistening stars. The girl meets with an accident, loses her memory. Boy does not leave her life but decides to take her into his life despite society's dirty words and gets back to his real life where he's not a boy, but a king. So she becomes a queen, his queen.

I sigh internally as my eyes falter from tiredness.

Only seventy percent of that story is built on lies.

***

The next morning, I woke up to Ayansh's not-so-quite disturbances around the bedroom. A mild disappointment sets in as I realize that I have, once again, failed to wake up before him. A feel of bloating sets in my stomach and I almost feel like vomiting, but I try to keep it in.

"Hey, you're up!" Ayansh says and quickly walks over to kiss my forehead. "Morning, hun. You feeling better?"

"Yes," I say and throw it in with a smile. He grins at me and then starts ordering around. "Get up and get ready quickly. Our flight leaves in three hours. We need to be at the airport in an hour."

My eyes widen. "One hour? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I wanted to, but you were sleeping so peacefully. I didn't want to be the one disrupting that beautiful slumber. Plus I've packed everything and all preparations are being handled well. It's just you who has to get ready. Now chop, get to it, Hansika!"

I set my foot on the floor and stretch myself a little before walking up to him and hugging him from behind.

"Baby?" He asks, his tone riddled with surprise.

I part no sooner than I embraced him and say nothing as I walk to the restroom with a red face. I have no idea why I walked up to him and hugged him like that. Both he and I know that I never initiate romantic gestures and I'm a definite no-goer of PDA.

Stupid hormones.

After I take a quick shower, I stand in front of my wardrobe, trying to choose an outfit. I want to go for a saree, I've always had a soft spot for them. But it's a flight journey and I want to be as casual as possible.

A hand snakes around my waist and a body mesh with mine from behind. I gasp as my whole body freezes. I turn frigid as my heart suddenly beats at the speed of light.

"Hey, it's me, Ayansh. Relax," he says as he turns me to face him.

It's just Ayansh. Your husband. No need to panic. It's not anyone else.

I repeat those lines in my head as my eyes closed and I take deep breaths.

"Oh, my poor kitten! You got so scared?" He hugs me tight and my heart starts its frenzy again.

I place my hand on his chest and push him a little away. However much I try to calm my mind, I can only feel safe when the thoughts are completely out of my mind. And I need to be away from any kind of touch.

Ayansh moves away from me, confusion riddling his eyes. I immediately feel guilty.

"Are you alright, hun?" He asks, taking a step further.

"Yes, just... I need to get ready. Sorry," I say and look down, unable to meet his eyes.

He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a step back. "Okay, sorry." He walks out after that.

I let myself fall on the door of the closet as I rest my head on the hardwood. Tears form in the alcove of my eyes, but I don't let them spill.

Through the glistening tears, my vision blurs as waves of the unspoken emotions crash at my feet. No amount of 'you're safe' or 'it's okay' can mute the noise ringing in my ears. I scrunch my eyes as my breathing strains against the flight and fright hormones.

The voice in my head takes this moment to point out that I'm such a mess and he could probably see right through me. It's possible because of the way I reacted to just a hug when minutes ago I voluntarily hugged him.

There can't always be a simple explanation for everything, the rational part of me tries to explain. But all parts of me know that this isn't normal, nothing about the racing of my heart and the hot tears are normal. I'm just a damaged piece trying to function with weak plasters and paper glue. I like to think I've fixed myself but I know otherwise.

'How are you going to save your baby if you can't even fix yourself?', the question crashes down as my hand involuntarily touches the bottom of my stomach.

There's not even a complicated answer for that.

***