Atlantis

06 - The Sound Of A Broken Heart

Note: Not Proofread.

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Arnav wanted to move faster.

He wanted to break into a run and reach her. She was right there. After four fucking years, she was there in front of him and yet, his feet would only take a step at a time.

In his heart settled the fear that she might register his presence and bolt. She, after all, wouldn’t want to see him, but he needed to hold her at least once. He needed to whisper everything he was sorry about, and so he needed to move faster. Alas, his body was no longer in his control. As much as he yelled from the inside for him to act before she runs away, or worse, disappear in a wisp as if she was never there, he could do nothing except walk the long distance between with small, slow steps.

The lights from the house illumined the vast expanse of the lawn a little and as he grew closer, his eyes took her in. She was still standing with her back to him, her long hair falling past her waist in mild waves and her hand outreached towards the sky holding a phone.

Another memory flooded to him, one of her in a bridal lehenga as she climbed over tables whilst talking on the phone - and a small, pained smile made its way to his face. That memory jostled something in him. It triggered something that up til now, seemed either dormant or too scared to act, and finally, finally he ran.

He would have missed it if he hadn't been so focused on her—the sudden tension in her body, the way she paused her movements and grew frozen, and the way she tried to turn around, apparently forgetting that she was on a narrow edge, before losing her balance. Her tiny yelp filled the air around them as he extended his arms just in time to gather her close.

She let out a puff of air as she settled in his arms which hit him directly in the neck. Suddenly, he quite forgot how to breathe himself.

It was a punch to the gut that knocked all the air of his system as he stared at her. Her round doe-eyes, the green of which shone through the darkness. He took in the perfect contours of her face, and the way her skin grew redder by the second. She was staring right at his face, her mouth in a small O and her eyes wide.

He should say something. But he was afraid to. This moment was all he had craved for for four years. To have her again in his arms, when she belonged and to be with her, where he belonged. There were so many things twisting their way in him, so many emotions, so many thoughts, so many desires that on the outside, he appeared numb.

It was when she started struggling in his arms that he regained some sense. He felt her palms flatten agianst his shoulder before pushing slightly, and he felt her legs squirm under his hands. He held on stubbornly. He wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. Please, not yet. But she struggled on, and he had to loosen his grip.

Something clenched and broke in him as she jumped out of his arms, stumbling a few feet away in her haste to put some distance between them.

“Kh--”

“I'm so sorry!” she squealed, her wide eyes staring at him in mortification. “Oh God, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?” She lifted her hands as if to touch him and he was about to meet her halfway but she backed down. Instead, she took a few more steps away.

He stared at her feet for a few seconds before dragging his eyes up to her face. And that’s when he noticed it. The difference.

There was no doubt that she was Khushi, and he did not just have her familiar face to go on. It was the response of his body to her mere presence—his heart which was thundering in his chest, the goosebumps which erupted all over his body, and that feeling when she was in his arms, as if he was a puzzle missing a piece until she fell in his arms. It was her. It was Khushi.

And yet, it was not Khushi.

She was not in the colorful salwar suits he was used to seeing her in. Instead, she had on a long sleeves black wraparound dress that reached just a little up her knees. Her feet, which he had never once seen in anything other than her bejeweled juttis, were clad in high heels. And her face, her already tiny face was framed by bangs that almost hid her eyes—the eyes that were currently trained on him and the eyes that, it seems, no longer held the same familiaritiy he was used to.

She was saying something. Her lips were moving furiously and her hands were flying in dramatic gestures. He had to exude a supreme effort to quieten the chaos within him so he could hear her.

“--searching for a stupid signal on my phone and I came here and I thought maybe I needed a higher ground! Oh God, I'm so stupid. I swear, I didn’t mean to fall on you. Not that anyone would ever mean to fall on someone, of course. You, you're not hurt, are you?” she paused to look at him quizzically, concern written all over her face. But there was something wrong in her stare. She was worried but it felt...impersonal. It took a few seconds before he could put his hands on it.

Stranger. She was looking at him as if he was a stranger.

“Oh no, did I—did I bump your head--?” Her question was cut short by the flinch he involuntarily let out at the look on her face. It made her stopped talking and look at him in a half-scared, half-puzzled way. He, however, made no other moves. A thousand voices raced in his head.

Why isn't she screaming? Why isn't she yelling at him? Punching him? Or why isn't she trying to get away? Why isn't she doing anything that would make it seem like she knew him, knew them?

These thoughts addled his mind further and refrained him from speaking out loud the million things he wanted to say. All he could manage was, “you--you--”

“Oh,” she shook her head and made what he presumed was her best effort to give him a smile. A cordial smile, similar to the one he had forced on his face for Kabir an eternity ago. “I, I um, I'm Anamika. I'm a friend of Kabir and Mithali's. You, you're here for their party, right?” She gestured towards the house. “it's right there. Or did you, did you need anything else? Should I call someone?”

He didn’t answer. He continued looking at her blankly. He watched as she opened her mouth then closed it in a futile attempt to say something.

Go on, he wanted to tell her. Say something. Yell at me. Scream for me to go away. Just do something.

But instead, she pulled that frigid smile back on her face and took a step back. “Well, nice to meet you. Sorry to have, you know,” she made a gesture towards him with both her hands, “fallen on you and everything, and thanks for helping me out there. See you, see you inside?”

And with a nod, she made to turn around. Alarms blared in Arnav's mind with every step she took farther away from him. He needed to do something fast. This can't be it. He can't lose her again. She can't —she can't hate him that much. Not so much that she pretends he doesn’t even...

“Khush--”

The whisper had barely left his mouth when she turned around. She had already reached the front steps of the house and her hand was on the railing as she faced him. Her eyebrows were pulled together and her lower lip was between her teeth as she deliberated him. He waited for several heartbeats before she finally spoke,

“We haven't met before...have we?”

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