Ishita put her hand on the door to her guest unit and pushed it open.
Warm air surrounded her as the door slowly opened. The only light in the room was that provided by the flickering fire, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the twilight hues as she made out the figure standing by the fireplace, his back to the door.
Behind him, snow fell slowly on the chilly Simla hills, the stark white landscape visible through the uncurtained windows.
There was something strangely familiar about his silhouette, the dark form framed by the pristine white behind him.
"Hi, I'm Dr Ishita Bhalla, aap mujh se milna chahte theh?"
(Hi, I'm Dr Ishita Bhalla, did you want to see me?)
She spoke as she groped for the light switch by the door, her voice pleasant but curious.
The switch located, she turned the dimmer to high, the door closing behind her as the room was flooded with light.
She stared at the man by the fireplace, a few feet away, and her smile froze on her lips as she observed that unyielding back, clad in black, the short hair springing from his head, the clenched fists by his side.
She would have known that back anywhere. Known that man who stood so silent, so still in the glow of the sputtering fire. He was thin, so thin, she mused, as she stared in silence at her husband, her voice failing her.
He turned slowly.
His face was an inscrutable mask, hidden beneath dense stubble, his eyes hooded. She stared in shock as she noticed the extent of his weight loss, the weary look that aged him, the new lines that had not been there six weeks ago.
"Raman" she whispered as he stared straight at her, no change discernible on his mask like face, the fire burning in his eyes the only sign of life.
"Raman" she repeated, fear and sadness jostling with the happiness that flooded her heart at the sight of that beloved face. She moved a few steps towards him, then stopped abruptly as he put a hand out to stop her, as if protecting himself from her.
"Chalo, aap ko mera naam toh yaad hai, Dr Ishita Bhalla"
(Well, at least you remember my name, Dr Ishita Bhalla)
His voice cut through her like a knife, cold, emotionless, a stinging weapon that pierced her heart.
"Raman, mujh ... Mujh ko aap ka naam kyun nahi ...aisa kyun kah rahe ho..." Her voice trailed off as tears flooded her eyes, cascading down her face.
(Raman, why wouldn't I remember your name. Why are you talking like this...)
"Magarmach ke asoon"
(Crocodile tears)
His cold voice, the sneer intact, was yet another stab at her bleeding heart. She stared at her husband, mute at his cruelty, her tears welling afresh at his pointed reference.
He hadn't even come to see her, she remembered, those two weeks when she had been in hospital, after the incident in the lake. Her scars, hidden under her scarf, throbbed as she put a hand up to her throat, trying to control the tremors that were threatening to assail her.
His eyes followed her hands, widening at the sight of the thin mangalsutra she now fingered, the dull gold standing out amongst all the fabric she was wearing. He strode towards her, stopping before her, his fingers pointing to her neck.
"Mein ne kaha tha na, isse mat pahenna"
(I told you didn't I, don't wear this again)
His eyes blazed fire as she shivered anew, his nearness bringing back all the pain, all the longing that had tormented her for the past weeks.
YOU ARE READING
Faasle ✔️
FanfictionShe had made a fool of him, betrayed him. He had broken her trust, betrayed her. And each had done it for the other. Their love was indisputable, But is love enough when there is no trust? Does the desire to protect triumph over actual wounds bestow...
