Just A Friend?

Chapter Forty-One

The aircraft that carried them was a marvel of luxury, resembling a billionaire's private sanctuary more than a mere mode of transport. Its interior exuded opulence, with plush leather couches arranged in intimate clusters, each adorned with silk cushions.

Coffee tables, their cabriole legs gleaming, stood like sentinels between the seats. The windows were draped in heavy, velvet curtains, while a plasma screen—so enormous it could have graced a movie theatre—loomed at one end of the cabin.

Yet, amidst this grandeur, Sweety seemed oblivious to the splendor surrounding her. She sat slumped against one of the opulent leather couches, her face a canvas of desolation. The vibrant life that once animated her features had drained away, leaving her with a pallid complexion and dark shadows beneath her eyes.

She looked like someone who had been drifting through a fog of despair for months, a shell of her former self. The mere sight of her brought an ache to Rahul's heart.

Rahul, seated beside her, could scarcely bear the sight of her suffering. His attempts to bring light to her darkened world seemed pitifully inadequate. He spoke softly, trying to engage her in conversation, but his words fell like rain on a parched desert—unanswered, ignored.

He tried to lighten the mood with gentle humor, offering her her favorite snacks, and even playing the music she once loved, but each effort met with a stony silence. It was as though the very essence of her spirit had departed, leaving only a body that functioned on autopilot.

"Is there anything you need, Sweety?" he asked, his voice gentle but edged with concern. His eyes searched hers for a spark of the vibrant woman he knew, but found only a vacant stare.

She shook her head faintly, a gesture so slight it was almost imperceptible. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was a fragile whisper. "No, Rahul. I'm... I'm fine."

But fine was a mask, a pretense that couldn't mask the depth of her agony. Rahul's heart ached with every failed attempt to reach her. He wanted desperately to break through the walls she had erected around herself, but he knew he couldn't force her to open up. She needed to come to him in her own time, if at all.

Whenever Rahul ventured to ask her a question, she responded with a minimal nod or a slight shake of her head, her eyes never meeting his. The vast expanse of the private jet seemed to mirror the distance that had grown between them.

As the aircraft descended toward Hyderabad, the city below glittered like a sea of stars. But even the view from the large windows did little to stir her from her sorrowful trance. The bustling energy of the city seemed to be a world away from the cocoon of luxury in which they traveled.

When the plane touched down, Rahul helped her out, his concern etched deeply into his features. He watched her as she moved mechanically, her every step weighed down by invisible burdens. The distance between them had never felt so vast, the unspoken words so heavy.

_______^-^_______

The sleek limousine came to a smooth halt in front of Rahul's mansion, a palatial structure that spoke of grandeur and opulence. Rahul stepped out with practiced ease, the soft glow of the evening sun casting a warm light over the pristine façade.

He moved with a grace that belied the turbulence of his thoughts. Opening the door for Sweety, he extended his hand with a quiet dignity, a gesture that spoke volumes of his respect and care for her.

Sweety, sitting in the plush interior of the car, stared at his outstretched hand as though it were an anchor in a stormy sea. Her heart felt like a heavy stone, her limbs weighed down by an invisible gravity. The effort to move, to rise from the comfort of the car, seemed monumental.