33- 'Willing To Be Abnormal'

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Merry Christmas everyone and a very Happy New Year! Be safe and happy :)

(You'll fall in love with Kiaan today. Or least towards the last sentence of this chapter.)

Please read the message below (the end of the chapter)

Started Typing On - 23/12/2018 - Finished Typing On - 25/12/2019 (6.09 PM)
Chapter 33- 'Willing To Be Abnormal'

Kiaan's Pov:

Honestly speaking, I didn't expect Jaanvi to talk to me or Kajal. If I was insulted or accused of robbery in her house I'm sure I've lost my cool. And perhaps, even rub it on her face. Accusations and insults for something I haven't done doesn't sit well with me. Rather than staying quiet my quick reaction would've been shouting and arguing.

Shouldn't it be like that anyways?

Surprisingly, she didn't do any of that. The look on her face once she came out of the bathroom was enough for me to realise how hurtful Kajal's words were. How badly and strongly they affected Ariel.

My Ariel.

I had only just stepped inside the house when I heard noises. Walking further inside the house I witnessed an alarmed Dhruv standing in front of Jaanvi, reaching to touch her arm but thinks better and moves back. He looked tentative to come closer to her, worried how she'd react.

Whatever he considered, he grabs a hold of her hand, gently trying to console my wife but she pushes his hand away harshly. Her face covered with her shaking hands. I came home for my lunch break and this wasn't how I imagined it'll go.

Jaanvi looks startled in the most chilling way I can possibly picture anyone. For a moment I froze, unable to understand what could've happened and how I'm supposed to react. Could she possibly be having a recap of her last panic attack? Is this a pattern?

I want to be sure before I approach her. Everything about Jaanvi screamed trauma and a haunted memory. Something about her petrified state sent snakes tying knots around my stomach, twisting my insides out. She's been through something. Something I'm unsure of.

'It is often the biggest smile hiding the saddest heart.' I heard this quote somewhere but never, ever, did I imagine it'll fit my wife so well.

I'm convinced the Jaanvi I knew from childhood, the one I attended school with, was a masked and false reality of hers, hiding too many secrets. Is it possible that she was never strong? Could she be weak, masking her face with a smile and fierce determination around me just to actually feel the strength?

My brother's troubled eyes scanned the room, unsure how to assist his sister-in-law. When they fall on me, his disturbed gaze flips to my wife, then me, signalling something is wrong. His forehead drips in sweat. He's unprepared. Like me. And I'm the husband.

"Bhai" He whispers yells, warning holds it's power in his tone. I flinch, realizing this isn't a dream but reality. He's judging me with his eyes, gesturing me to move, and help her. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, horrified.

In a split second, I regained my posture and took control of the situation. Long and attentive strides, and I reached her and paused. Did Aditi mention this? Or Jaanvi? What do I do? I have to be prudent with her. One wrong and hurried action and it might affect her negatively.

I scrubbed my hands over my face. Anxiety getting the best of me. I ran my fingers through my hair, my dark hair was, perhaps, tousled in ways that hinted my turmoil.

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