The Waves Whisper ✓

18 | things fall apart...

14
𓂃𓊝𓂃

I tried to teach my brain to forget about Apoorva and his attempt to visit me, but it was a disobedient student. My mind kept showing me recurring dreams about him for the next six months after his visit. I felt suffocated, like someone was binding my chest tightly.

It was Vikram's birthday that day. I tried to love him. I tried to be happy in his presence. It was my pretence to forget that I've ever liked Apoorva. I thought I would be able to erase his memories once I had fixed my marriage. I bought Vikram a Kurta as a birthday present-a maroon-coloured one. I thought he would like it, he would appreciate it, and my marriage would be normal again. I was just 21 and too naive to think that. Some things will never change.

It was the middle of June, the monsoon had arrived earlier that year. I loved to lie awake on my bed, listening to the rain pour down and the thunder rumble at midnight. It soothed my soul like honey on a fresh cut. Delhi thrived in the monsoon. A blanket of cold mist wrapped the city. Weeds started to grow on the sidewalks, and the roads became slippery. I was going home after buying Vikram's birthday present. The rain had stopped by the time I reached the book shop. I noticed some creepers growing in between the cracks of the wall. I was hoping to buy a book that would be an inspiration for the novel I was writing. Falguni wasn't at the entrance or inside the shop. I went into the room where the fresh stock of books was kept. I had the liberty to do so because we were friends, or I thought so. The door was closed. I heard noise inside, like she was gasping for breath. I feared that something bad had happened to her. I pushed open the door. I instantly regretted doing that stupid thing. She was with a man; his back was turned towards me. His face was buried in her neck. Her clothes were misplaced. Seeing me, her eyes widened in shock. She pushed the man away quickly. He turned his face to look at me. I froze. My feet felt stuck inside the concrete of the floor. I could physically feel the blood rushing to my face. Vikram. It was him. It was him!

My husband and my friend!

"Roopali." She whispered in shock. "It-it's not like that." She said, adjusting her clothes. Vikram stood beside her, frozen, looking into my eyes.

"I trusted you!" I said, to her, forcing words out of my mouth. I couldn't stay there in their presence. I ran. I wanted to be far away from them.

I pushed open the door to my house and collapsed on the floor. My legs were shaking, and I drew my legs together to my chest. My eyes were burning up. A wildfire was burning inside me. It consumed everything in me. I hated everyone at that moment. My mother, my father, and Ratan for leaving me alone in that cruel world.

The door was pushed open. Vikram stood in front of me, his hand on his hips.

"What is this?" He said, seeing me sitting on the floor. I raised my head to look at him. The image of the person who stood in front disgusted me.

"Don't give me that look." He scoffed.

"What do you want me to do then? Serve you tea as a reward for fucking my friend?" I shouted.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" He said, the thing that I have heard a thousand times before.

I stood up. "What would you do?" I said in a firm voice, walking towards him.

"You can't even give me a child, and now you're making a fuss because I fucked some woman?" He scoffed.

My heart sank. The blame was on me.
"You know that. You know that it's you who can't produce a child!" I screamed. He looked flustered. After a second, anger spread across his face.

"You bitch." His rough palm fell on my face, making me crumble to the floor.
The slap felt like a thousand bee stings.

"Do you really think that you can disrespect me like that?" He said and grabbed my neck.

"I'm your husband." He said and tightened the grip around my neck, chocking me.

"Yeah, remember this every time you think about disrespecting me." He said, seeing me trying to breathe. He freed me from his grip as I was about to pass out.
I coughed as I finally took a breath. He slapped my face again and went into the room, leaving me on that cold floor. I stayed there for almost five minutes.

He came back. There was a stack of papers in his hand.

"You thought I wouldn't find this?" He said. "You really think that you could outshine me with your stupid little novel?"

It was my story on his hand. I was appalled.

"No, not my story." I cried.

"Please." I begged.

I stood up, reaching to grab the papers from his hand. Before I could do anything. They were on the floor. He dropped a lit matchstick onto the heap of papers.

"Remember this. Every time you think about disrespecting me." He smiled like a monster.

I tried to put out the fire with my hands while tears ran down my cheeks. I didn't care about the heat against the skin of my hands.

"Burn to death." He cursed as he stormed out of the house.

I ran quickly, grabbed a bucket of water, and threw it over the burning papers. I could reconstruct the story from the blurred letters, not from ashes. There were only a few papers left without burns. I slowly took the rest of the wet pages and left them to dry on the floor. I sat beside it, staring at it blankly and cursing my fate for a long time. My eyes fell on something near the front door-a folded piece of paper. It looked like someone slipped it under the door before I got there and got misplaced after I opened the door. I opened it.

You're never home.

Nothing else. Just one sentence. But I knew what exactly it meant and from who it was. He was there, minutes away from meeting me, right in front of my door. Again.