Part 1

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Restless nights have become a part of my life. Earlier, it was because of her.

Now, it's a feeling of helplessness that surrounds me.

Every night, her screams blemishes my very soul. But one day it all stopped

We accepted our fate.

But it wasn't always like this. I was a troubled soul. Always questioned, why me?

Mother said "nobody is perfect" but I could see her eyes were telling a different story. I knew she also blamed god for everything. Once, I lost the will to live. I had no purpose, no aspirations, no desires left to live for. 

But God wasn't blind to my pain. He had taken my voice but he didn't want my soul, 

Not yet.

He sent me her. She changed everything. She was my angel, my Raphael in disguise. Her face was the only face I wanted to remember all my life. She brought me back to life. Her captivating eyes, innocence manifested in the most beautiful way. I often used to get lost in those bewitching eyes. 

Little did I know, they held so much apathy within.

I used to watch her work everyday. She was a devoted wife. I knew I could never be with her but watching her gave me strength, kept my breath alive. 

But one day she noticed. She called out to me but no words came out of my mouth. Was it my curse or her magic? But I knew my soul was transfixed.

That day she visited mother. That day, I felt her near me. Mother told her everything. My heart was pounding, I couldn't bear seeing pity in those mesmerizing eyes for me. I didn't want her pity, I wanted her love. Her sight.

She was different. She knew she healed me. She knew I was watching her, but she never closed the windows.

She hasn't closed them ever.

Whenever she looked at me, I felt calm. She knew we can never talk but she always acknowledged me with her songs. Her voice was my only source of tranquility. Her poise, her mellifluous tone, everything was heavenly. As if god has sent me his messenger or himself.

But one day something happened. She wasn't there. I asked mother. She said her husband must've come back. I was anxious. I needed her but what if he doesn't understand our bond? Will I ever see her again? 

I woke up that night with a jolt. I heard her screaming. I looked out the window but there was only darkness. I thought I had a nightmare. I couldn't sleep that night again. 

I've never been able to sleep ever since.

The next morning, I was yearning for her sight. Her absence was feeding on me like scavengers feeding on dead meat. But I didn't see her.

I saw a woman working. It was that very innocent face which gave me life but there was something amiss. Her eyes weren't gleaming anymore, they were wailing. I knew it wasn't her. She didn't sing that day. Looking at her, I knew she will never sing again.

But she did.

Her screams sang her melancholy that night. They have, ever since.

We cried together but nobody could hear us.

I asked mother for help. "It's their personal matter, we shouldn't intervene. If she wants help, she should go to the cops". I knew I can't help her.

I still watched her everyday. Her eyes were tired of pouring tears. They seemed dead. Her skin showed gruesome marks.

One day, she looked at me. My eyes were asking "Why are you letting this happen? Help yourself. I'm with you" She answered as if reading them, "I've nowhere else to go".

I couldn't watch anymore. I keep my windows closed now. But she doesn't leave me. 

I know she cries out to me for help when he violates her. I know the song, she knew it was my favorite. 

I don't blame god for my deprivation. I am no different than the others. Nobody can help her.

I am no longer in the eye of the storm, but I can't save her. It's not in my hands. Mother says, all have their destinies written.

Mine is not to save my angel, but I could set us both free.

I sneaked into her house when she was alone.

She was lying on the floor. Her physical form was alive but I knew she was dead inside. She looked at me with those eyes. They wanted me to help her. I replied through my hands "I'm here to help both of us".

I lied down next to her, where I always dreamt of being. She took what I gave her. I swalloed mine.

As we lay there together, she sang for me knowing that nobody would hear us.

For the very last time.






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