Hamesha, Yours!

-24-

"Hello!" she whispered in her hoarse voice and cringed at the unexplained ball of guilt in her throat.

"Nandini?" he whispered lowly.

"Harshad?"

"I need you." his voice squirmed catching her into a frenzy. 

"Where are you? What happened?" she asked concerned. He was too low to be Harshad.

"J-just come, please. Studio!" his voice withered into silence.

"But, Harshad? Are you... ", she shivered at the humming silence that replaced his voice.

"Hello? Harshad?"

A loud thunder crested in the sky, the clouds crackled at her frozen frame. Nandini sniffed her tears back, her wet clothes clung to her numbing her to her bone.

He called her to the studio. Out of everywhere, the studio- Stardust's place. Their place. The clouds gargled in agreement and though her tears wanted to flush out, they drenched back to analysis.

"Please come."

His voice rang in her head. He needed her again. Her feet, though jiggly and heart pounding inside her, made their way towards the Studio on the outskirts of Goa-Mumbai, near St.Mary's Church.

"A 40-minute drive or a 20 minute walk through short-cuts", she tried to calm herself, "you can do it, safe and sound!".

Safe and sound, her mind lingered on to the words in her voice. He needs to be safe and sound. Safe and sound, her mind raced.

These rains had brought her many tumultuous nights but she had never bickered back to them. The raindrops rolled down on the shiny empty roads. The sky stood black, grumbling on matters, hiding the guiding starlight. Her pace was slow, her foot slightly twisting every now-and-then as she tried to scurry to him.

"They are cold and shivery, Nandini, but for some reason, have you ever noticed the stars always shined at the end." Abhi's calm voice soothed her enough that her pace fastened a bit.

------

"Harshad?" Nandini called out in the darkness. The studio was closed, utterly closed, utterly dead as if no one had been here in ages.

"Harshad?" her voice echoed to no response. She walked down the hallways until a warm presence of someone filled her. Her nerves jittered but a feeling of someone loitered around her.

She sniffed her fear and looked over her shoulders to check for a sign of him. A broken white door decorated with peeled off paint, she saw; her eyes stuck to the entrance behind her. Her heart screamed to walk away from the room but, her eyes defied to never peel off.

She crawled up to the door at her slowest, hesitant to meet someone behind. A raw smell of blood tingled her to her stomach. She gulped audibly enough that it echoed and she pushed the door with her merest power. Her muscles sore as if they were paralyzed. The door creaked and clouds of dust welcomed her in. Something in her rose and her concerned voice croaked,

"Harshad?" she walked in with home until tripping over something. She looked down and at the dusty hand, bruised. Her fear vandalized her voice, but her eyes calmly, may be expectantly, traced the hand upto him.

His face was dusty, bruised, slightly bloody. She sat down near him, unafraid yet fearful, and caressed his wet, sweaty face. Her cold hands touched him as if magic and nudged to the slightest.

"Harshad?" she called out sweetly.

A low groan came in reply and she left out her unknown held breath. She stroked her cold hand on his face again and he whimpered the weakest. She looked down at her still dripping self.