Solace

|22| departure

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Sorry for being late, was very tired.

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NIDHI

In the morning, I woke up to a sound, probably the alarm. I opened my eyes, he was still asleep, my hand was still in his hand, over his torso, our fingers intertwined together. I was on my side facing him, and he was sleeping on his back. I attempted to gently withdraw my hand from his firm grasp, he was holding my hand, as if he had no intention of letting go. When I exerted a bit more effort, he gradually opened his eyes with a lazy demeanor, peering at me through narrowed eyes. I disabled the alarm on my phone with my free hand, when he didn't let go off my hand, he was still half asleep, I thought.

"G-Good Morning," I stammered, he looked at me, fluttering his eyes, and squinting them, adjusting to the lightning in the room.

"Good Morning," he replied, he was looking tired, The light coming from the balcony, illuminated his face, revealing redness along the waterline of his eyes, extending across the skin beneath them.

"I should get ready," releasing my hand, he ascended to a seated position on the bed, perching on the edge with his shoulders slouched, he yawned, and then slipped his feet into his slippers. As he was sitting on the bed, even I rose from the reclining position and sat on the bed, he turned to look at me, his expressions betrayed an inner conflict, as if he harbored words on the tip of his tongue, yet hesitated to release them. With a subtle motion, he rose from the bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning, dispelling the remnants of sleep before entering the walk-in closet.

The room embraced silence, a stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere of previous days with people moving about. Though this section had fewer visitors, there was still a hum of activity. Now, the sole symphony in the room comprised our breathing, the muted footsteps as he approached the closet, the soft closure of the door, the light ticking of the clock and occasional sounds of birdsong and distant bicycle bells, perhaps from neighbors collecting newspapers.

The light bluish curtains, partially drawn, allowed the morning sun to filter into the room. Despite the dark sky, a beautiful blend of light yellow, orange, and blue hues painted the horizon, creating a harmonious sight.

I rose from the bed, perching on its edge. I unraveled my hair from the bun, intending to re-tie it. I couldn't help but miss Shivani's touch-how gracefully she used to weave my hair. Strangely, throughout my life, braiding my own hair proved to be a formidable task. While I excelled in braiding others' hair, but when it came to my own locks I tangled them more whenever I tried to braid my hair.

After making the bed, I sat on its edge and reached for my phone, nestled between my pillow and his. Unlocking the device, I noticed messages from Roshni and Priya, along with some photos from the reception.