Chapter Eight

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C H A P T E R - E I G H T

The picture above is of Silviu Tolu. He's just the kind of guy I wanted Amaan to be. What do you think?

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It takes a certain type of man to be able to get it. To understand that a woman who's used to being let down repetitively, starved of simple things in a relationship like peace, tenderness, and common respect, and is used to always having to fight to be heard... Doesn't know what a 'happy' relationship feels like. So it takes a certain type of man to want her to know that feeling, and have the patience to just walk her through it as she gets used to a new normal- A loving normal. A breathe easy normal. A stress free normal... A happy normal.

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"You bastard", I screamed, and the very first pillow went flying across the hall which I had aimed at his face when he walked inside, but he instantly dodged it by bending his body forward making the pillow go straight out of the hall room.

"Whoa, easy Kavya, calm down", he spoke startled, trying to reach me.

"Don't you dare come close to me. You fraud, you liar. How dare you lie about something like this?", I shouted again as I throw another set of pillows from the sofa over him. He managed to catch the first one, but the second one hit right on his face.

Bingo.

"Will you please listen to me once? Let me explain, okay?", He again tried to say something as he removed the pillow away from his face, but I was way too much angry to listen to any of his stupid explanation.

"There is nothing left for you to explain, you moron", I shouted in same high pitched voice and at the same time I grabbed the flower pot kept on the centre table to aim at him.

"Okay, I think you should put that thing down Kavya. That will hurt", he said calmly, holding his hands out in front of me in calming gesture while he eyed the pot in my hand.

"Oh, really? Well, the good thing is, it's meant to be hurt", I said sarcastically as I was about to throw the pot aiming his head not thinking about anything logically, or the consequences of my outrageous act.

But before I can throw the pot he reached over to me and grabbed my hand which was holding the pot. "Leave me", I hissed angrily as I tried to snatch my hand away from his hold.

"I'll leave you I promise, but first let me put that thing down", he said lowly as he tried to take the pot away from my grip.

But I didn't let him. I raised my other hand and started pushing him away from me by pushing his chest. But unluckily my force was not strong enough to push him away. He not even stumble back like my hands were useless over his broad hard chest.

He somehow managed to snatch the pot out of my hold and then he tossed it on the sofa beside us, his one hand still holding my wrist.

I squirmed in his hold, twisting my wrist to make him loose his hold on my them, and at the same time I bring my other hand to free my hand as well so that I can have upper hand here. And all this while I didn't forget to shower all kind of colourful words from my outshining vocabulary skills on his face which I was dying to since we were in the car. And no one is going to judge my abusing vocabulary talent here anyways.

When I was almost this close to succeed in freeing my hand away from his grip, he hold my other hand in his free one effortlessly, twisted my arms and bring both of my hands behind my back, pulling me flush against him, holding me captive. My chest heaving up and down gliding over his chest again and again. His forehead now touching mine. Both of our breathes were loud in the complete silence surrounding us. I squirmed in his hold, trying to free myself but all my attempts went into nothing. At last a frustrating sigh of irritation came out of my lips when I failed to free myself away from his hold.

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