Book - 2
Lord Shiva says,
Purest form of love can't be expressed with words. It is the embodiment of the devotion within a lover's heart.
Abhimanyu Acharya,
Reserved, responsible and creative. Yearns to respect others and the relationships that god...
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Love was supposed to beautiful, intangible and everlasting.
It was supposed to be like the fate that bloomed and connected you to each other no matter what.
It was supposed to make you come back to each other no matter what. It was supposed to make you feel whole.
Not shred each and every single piece of your soul and ruin you. It was not supposed to kill the souls which were alive and flourishes.
It was not supposed to break my sister.
I sat quietly beside my sister's bed holding her hand as she kept flinching and shedding tears and calling out Atharva's name in her sleep. And only one question haunted her dream.
I was so scared that she would drive off in the middle of the night and crash into a tree due to lack of sleep or scratch herself as she fell asleep.
I had been staying up night after night to witness my sister's downfall due to her love. And that only enhanced one feeling in my chest and made it throb with pain.
It was regret of letting her date Atharva. And,
Self Loathing for loving Amara.
She had betrayed me. There was no turning back from the fact anymore. She lied to me. She toyed with my sister's feelings by hiding the truth from her. She hid the truth from me.
Hiding the truth is equivalent to lying. It is equivalent to betryal.
And now as I saw the rare calmness that adorned the features of my sister's face after nearly three months her break up with Atharva.
I couldn't help but clutch onto her hand as I did when we were children and bring it near my tear filled face.
Though I spoke harshly to Amara everyday at school ever since that day. Even when we were not talking to each other and just passing by each other the atmosphere got so tensed that it was almost suffocating.
And everyday when I spoke like an asshole to her. I felt a string in my heart being cut with a dented knife. It was both physically and emotionally so painful that I felt myself dying even more than ever before.
And in the quite moonlit night all I could do in the silence of the room filled with gentle breeze and the melancholy of a summer night.
All I could do was fucking cry.
Amara,
I thought... That it was you It was me.
It was us.
I thought it was all worth fighting for. I thought it was all going to get better eventually. I thought that we were going to be okay.
