Faasle ✔️

Part Five: Marjaaye...

Ishita's bedroom

She turned down the blankets on the bed, puffing up the pillows for him. There was no spare blanket, and she did not want to take either of the two off the bed. But she would be warm enough with the fire in the living room, and her shawls. As long as he was comfortable here, as long as she knew he was fine.

She realised that her phone was beeping and picked it up. The next moment, she was calling Adi. "It's okay beta" she reassured him, when he told her that papa had gone to Mumbai. "I'm sure that papa will be back tomorrow."

She felt terrible for not letting Adi know that Raman was here - but that would have simply raised her sons expectations, and the truth be told, she did not know where they were at, whether they would be able to bridge the distances between them, or whether those gaps were now irreparable.

She missed her children terribly, but she could not disrupt their lives over and over again for her own selfish reasons. Her overwhelming love for their father had made her do some stupid things, but she would not let them suffer any further for her mistakes. For his mistakes. He would have to be the parent in her absence. And she would see if they could mend their fractured love, rejoin their broken lives. But in the meantime, it was best not to raise Adi's hopes that his parents could be together once more.

So she had spoken to Adi lovingly, and had switched off her phone.

She had not heard him come in from the bathroom, until he touched her softly on her shoulder.

"You didn't tell Adi I'm here Ishita" he said quietly.

"No" she responded, without turning around. "I don't want Adi to get his hopes up Raman. I don't want you to bring them here yet. Not until things are sorted between us. Not until we are both sure."

"I'm sure" again, he spoke in those quiet tones, so unlike his usual brash boisterous speech.

"But I'm not Raman" her voice was as quiet as his, but just as determined, as she turned around to face him.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. He had taken off her bathrobe, was dressed only in his boxers. He was thin, so thin, his shoulders stopped, all energy drained from him.

"Raman" she spoke quickly, trying to hide her tears. "Aap please yahan aaiyee, blankets mein hojayiye, mein kuch soup bana kar lati hoon."
(Raman, please come here, get inside the blankets, I'll make some soup for you)

He sat down without protest, leaning against the headboard, allowing her to tuck the blankets snugly around him. She tucked in the edges and then slowly smoothed down his forehead, lost for a moment, before recollecting herself, and then straightening to leave.

"Soup nahi Ishita" again that quiet, forlorn voice, pricked at her heartstrings. " Just get me some more of that whisky"

"No Raman" she shook her head determinedly. "Kuch bhi nahi kha rahe ho na, isliye dekho kya haal banaliya hai. Aap ko khana hoga, you've grown so thin"
(No Raman. You look like you haven't been eating anything. Look at what you've done to yourself. You need to eat, you've grown so thin)

"Aur tum?" He put out a hand and pulled her down onto the bed, and she sat down unwillingly. "Ab toh tumhe moti nahi keh sakta na. Kisi bhi angle se."
(And you? Now I can't even call you fat. From any angle)