I'm sorry.
Sometimes I feel I can share my deepest secrets. Sometimes I hesitate to share the obvious. That doesn't insinuate my wavering trust over you. It confirms the dwindling faith over myself. Fear dominates me. Fear of reality that persuades me to stay in the oblivion. Fear of betrayal, of guilt, of pain.
I can't let you in that wrath, can't let you enter my darkness no matter how much you beam with a ray of hope.
I can't.
I'm sorry.
Naina sighed as a tear trickled down her uneven cheek. Hers weren't ideally smooth, but slightly rough, with pimples and patches, reminding her of past incidents. Hers weren't ones people gazed at with adoration, but ones people would commiserate with and pass on free advice on alternative treatments.
The words she spoke in apology seemed so perfect in her head, yet trembled to escape her lips. There lay Sameer Maheshwari, still deep in his slumber, while her heart and mind battled relentlessly. Adjusting herself next to him, scrupulously avoiding any contact that would alert him, Naina rested against the vibrant cushions, matching his snores with her own heart beat. Clutching the book tightly in her hands, she recalled their memories together. He still remembered after all these years. Madhuri Patel wasn't an international bestseller, rather a small scale average author. Critic reviews of her books succumbed underneath other famous novels on every newspaper to the point that the font was barely visible. Honest opinions lay crumpled on one corner of reality as people ran after those who were in trend. And yet for some peculiar reason, here he had grabbed a copy of the novel that too from a local library. Could've been pure coincidence, her mind reasoned. Might've been his efforts, her heart defended, enlightening a familiar hope.
After a stream of regurgitated thoughts, she decided to break his reverie. His even breaths suddenly added on to the silence, and his loose hand made her want to cross her fingers with his, the feeling of happiness inching across her heart. Brushing away such possibilities, her mind scolded her to remain focused. Heaving a breath, she tapped his shoulder once. Receiving no response, Naina rolled her eyes before tapping his shoulders a few more times, a little vigorously.
His eyes darted open, a soft sigh escaping his lips while his orbs grunted at the disturbance. Adjusting to the light, his gaze scampered around until it reached a familar face. Scoffing, he spat, "What?!"
"Good evening to you too."
Her words made him check his watch, 7:16 PM. He suddenly sat upright, "Oh my gosh, it's 7 already!"
"The stalker has a habit of afternoon--sorry, evening naps too." She taunted with a smirk on her face.
Sameer puckered his brows in annoyance before muttering, "As if you hadn't dozed off."
"No I hadn't." Came an instant response to which he sniggered, "Oh so were busy gazing at me this whole time?"
"N-no." She stuttered, looking away in embarrassment. The unfamiliar crimson daunted her cheeks while his familiar pair of orbs danced in glee.
"That explains why you have clutched my novel so possessively." He began with a tilt of the head.
"As well as the dried tears on your face." He inched towards her with a softened gaze. Delicately cupping her cheeks, as if she were more fragile than a feather, he traced the path of her tears, all the while feeling tormented himself.
She observed his anguish in astonishment, surprised at how he felt her emotional turmoil so well. Appalled at how he knew her so well. Despite a distance of three years, today she felt as if she were the young and naive Naina Agarwal, and she was the same school-going boy she loved to spend time with.
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How I Wish I Were You (ON HOLD)
FanfictionWhat's a normal Indian girl's life? Doting parents, a lighthearted family, acing in a few subjects, pursuing her dream career, finding love, a loving new family and a small world of her own. Relaxing on a recliner at the end of the day, with her han...