REPLACEMENT WIFE (Short Story) [THE MARTYR WIVES BOOK 1]

24. Aakhari

VIDYUT

Her body that beholds breathing but not life stood before me, those eyes that rested on that paper. I wonder if she is reading the words.

Or was the emotions those words had behind them, that held her captive in the prison of her feelings? She met her gaze before she set herself back in the paper and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"What have Shrushti done? Vidyut?" Sarisha's question held me. And I wonder if it was truly an interrogation or her cries. Her tears? Her pain, her fumbling body, was the death of my own.

I shook my head stepped towards her knelt before her towards her level, and met her eyes, "Whatever she did, turned into ashes, maybe we can forget it?"
I came here to let her know, that her sister loved her the same, and if she was to ask me to break Shrushti's last words? I would have done it.

But if there is a chance to resolve the soul of Sarisha, I would always pray for that,
"I burnt her with a promise that I would find out who assaulted her before her death. Vidyut." She asked me, she wasn't accusing.

For once, she was holding onto me for my maturity, asking for my contentions, and opinions. I held her hand and rubbed it, "Well, you can either preserve her last wish, or your promise," I told her, and she looked at our hands.

"I want to preserve her last wish, I will find that man on my own, without knowing who she said she was before her death." She made her decisions.

It's hard to understand sentiments as a man, I know I would never know what she endowers every day, and what I might remind her of.
Our unconsecrated relationship was supposed to grow, but I feel it will be stuck in the same place forever now.

She shook her head suddenly and then wiped her tears. "I think you will need Vridha Oil for your knees if you are going to stay like that?" She suddenly joked with her tears-filled face and half-smile. Sitting before her, with her hands in mine.

I laughed at her essence, chuckling slowly, if she was trying to make it easy, what am I not supposed to do?
"Worried about the old man?" I asked her and her half smile turned into a full smile.

"You are an old man. But you are my old man, I always make jokes about your age, but that is the priority among the things I love you, and hate you for, you know how to keep me grounded even when I am collapsing and even when I am escaping." She spoke so lightly, her face fell, before it came back again, "I am sorry that I can't give more of my I love you, I hate you, Vidyut?" She said and I shook my head.

"No, Sarisha, I don't hate the I love you I hate you of us. Because there is nothing more honest and more raw in a relationship than the admittance of both the sentiments a person can feel about someone. There will always be a shortcoming in a person that another must not be acceptable about, that we might hate too much, sometimes their awful perfection can be the one." I told her before I pushed the hair behind her ear and she tilted her face resting her soft cheeks in my arms, "Same way,  what you feel about me is the rationale of your feelings for me," I spoke my truth to her.

This wasn't a lie, that day I indeed left, because she blamed me for breaking her dreams with that house of hers and forcing her sister and her father into marriage for all the power she blamed, and I accepted her rage towards the power.

But, that day taking her hate was the only option for me, because I am the culprit of what I have retained within myself since day one.
And I couldn't tell her, so that day I stood and left.

And I truly admire her, acceptance of my love, she admitted she loved me, whatever the three words after her admittance were.
It would all die the day the truth comes out.
Until then I would keep the promise of the deceased.