▪︎Some stories are just waiting for an ending.▪︎
A marriage set on shards of glass, every step forward makes someone bleed.
A troubled heroine, a lovesick hero, an emotional journey.
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A short love story.
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Sometimes, our mind plays tricks on us. And sometimes, we wish it was. I had opened my eyes, after what I assumed was another episode due to my condition, in our bedroom. The cream colored walls, beige curtains with brown furniture, it all seemed the same. The way it has always been.
With my doctor on one side of me, and Reyansh on the other. He was stroking my hair, like the many times before, but his face was set. An angry God. My angry God. The love, the patience, the adoration, all of it still very much there but the anger masked it all. Was the anger for me? I had thought it was. I asked for a divorce but the real reason for his anger showed its face too soon.
Or should I say faces.
Our families. They had flown in to surprise us, and have been fairly shocked to see that not are we already married, but it is on the the verge of me begging him for a divorce.
That was some time ago. Now, that I feel better and not as exhausted as before, we are all seated in the giant living room of the penthouse I've called home since I got married.
"You two are married." That wasn't a question. It was a statement, lined with hurt of not being aware of everything we've done. Reyansh's father is a proud man. I had never met him before today but I know how hurt he is just by the way he said those words. My husband nods.
My father sighs. And an angry sigh that is. "We haven't met you in the last eleven years Seher. And now that we have, we get to know that you are married? And not just that, but that you are sick? We talked on the phone all the time, you could've told us. You are my daughter beta. Don't you think we deserve to know if you need something."
There it is. Another person I've disappointed. This is exactly who I didn't want to be. A burden. My nails scrape my flesh, my compulsive behaviour out in the open. It's not extremely noticeable but if someone pays close attention, they'll see. And judging by the way every single pair of eyes is on me, rather my hand at the moment, they all see it. I scrape harder, breaking skin, just when a hand covers mine.
Reyansh sits beside me, once again with all the love in the world, fixed into his eyes that are set on me. He shakes his head slightly, with a little frown and I give up. I give up my need to watch myself bleed, a punishment for disappointing others. He takes my hand in his, examining the damage. His mouth sets into a straight line. He wants to say something, probably reprimand me for my self harming tendencies. But he is mindful of the people around.
He turns back to them. Still holding me hand in his. "How are all of you here, together?" A valid question. His mother answers.
"Our families have known each other for a few years now. Your fathers work together. And since you haven't come to visit us in nearly four years, Reyansh, we thought we will come and see you. And when Mr. Sharma told us that his daughter stays here and even works in your company, we all decided to come together."
My husband sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I am sorry. I am sorry that I didn't tell you I got married, but I had my reasons. Things were complicated. Not in our control." He turns to my father, "Sir, you have all the right to be worried and hate me for keeping this a secret, but I really love your daughter. I don't want to see her hurt and alone. I will take good care of her."
