Humesha | ✔️

Chapter 7

And everytime I thought I have started knowing him, I thought I was a step closer to me. But what I didn't know was, every step I took towards him brought me two steps away from him.

~via I Loved An Illusion.

N A N D I N I

Wiping the sweat beads off my forehead, I continued staring at the photgraph in front of my eyes. It must atleast date a fifteen years old, owing to its vivid colour and crumbled appearance. Half the picture was folded behind inside the frame, I could see just one half of the picture in front of my eyes.

It was of a girl, which goes without saying, of probably five to six years of age. She was so fair and beautiful, hair tied in a pony and wearing a short dress, a smile so contagious. Her eyes and lips were so familiar to me but I still couldn't recognise who it was. My heart beat faster as my mind raced at the possibilities as I turned the picture to remove it out of the frame to see the other half of the picture.

But before my eyes could be blessed by the second half of the mystery, I felt a ceasing pain on my arm and I left the frame which fell down, the glass shattering into a hundred pieces as I clutched the picture in my hand tighter, closing my eyes in fear as I was pinned to the shelf behind me.

The rise of silence in my nervous system darkened everything around me, as I breathed slowly, afraid to open my eyes and see what that hazel eyes have in story for me. Gulping my saliva slowly, I froze numb at my place biting my lower lip, my gaze to the ground. I knew I had evoked the monster and now I had no escape from his clutches.

He looked straight into my eyes, as an unknown shiver passed through me. He was fair, fairer then you see him on television and in pictures. Yet his eyes were dark, and they got even darker when they looked into mine.

"Princess," he took my name in a whisper, slow and cold as his hands pressed my arms even tighter against the wall. If eyes were daggers and looks could kill, I would have burnt under his stare, into ashes of his hatred. He hates me. Or actually, he hates everybody, he hates the entire world with no reason at all. But the irony is, he hates me just as much as I love him.

"Leave me sir!," I begged wriggling under his clutches but he remained unmoved, pressing my arms ever tighter. I would be lying if I say that he didn't scare me, being so close to him didn't scare me. He intimidated me the most. Yet I was attracted to him like a spider is attached to its web. He'd push me away and I'd crawl back to him with all my love, shamelessly and selflessly.

My nails dug into his skin as I tried pushing him apart, causing the blood to ooze out, yet he seemed to be calm, as if feeling no pain. His body seemed to be just as numb to pain and feelings as his heart. He wasn't just darkness, he was the ruler of it and one could tell that looking only at his eyes. They were brown and perfect, yet never happy. They were always dark and stern to everybody, ready to burn them down if they tried looking through.

"This might be the first and the last time I am telling you Miss. Murthy, you have to stay away from me. You are just a mere employee whom I can throw out within seconds. Be the worker you are, do not try crossing your lines.," his words were slow and clear. I would have surely taken many things in this statement as an insult, had I not loved him so hopelessly.

His hand traced my arm all the way down to my fingertips as he snatched away the photograph and within an ounce of a second, he moved away from me, letting the cold air of the cabin suddenly touch my body. I let out the breath I didn't know I had held since such a long time as I folded my arms tighter across my chest, noticing each action of his.