19. the sound of silence

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"Go back to sleep Madhulika, you're overreacting

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"Go back to sleep Madhulika, you're overreacting."

Ignoring him, Madhu gently placed the glass of lemonade on his bedside table. She bent over to check his temperature only for Nakul to shift out of her reach, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, I'm not feverish."

"Then why are you still clammy?" she said, referring to the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.

He didn't respond, didn't hear her in the first place as he stared fixedly at the faded block patterns of the bedspread. The aid lying abandoned on the pillow. Madhu hated that she couldn't communicate with him, that it was so easy for him to block her out when he needed to.

He dictated when he would listen to her. When he would acknowledge her words.

As soon as that thought entered her mind, she wanted to punch herself. Did she seriously resent him for being deaf? No. The truth was she resented herself. For not being able to bridge the gap.

She grabbed the newspaper and pen lying on the bedside table, scribbling a desperate plea.

"Talk to me."

At first, he barely moved his head to read it. When he did, a sigh escaped him.

"Like I said, I'm okay. It was just a bad dream which affected me more than it should've." His voice was hard, forceful.

Her heart sank. Madhu felt as if she had been reprimanded. His detached attitude was affecting her more than it should have. Why was she so concerned anyway? She had never been the kind of person to pester others for answers. She didn't even bother her father when he asked to be alone. Then why was she reluctant to leave?

"Do you want to talk abou—?"

Reading her half-written sentence upside down, Nakul snapped. "Why can't you learn to mind your business for once? I don't want to talk about a goddamn dream. You're not a fucking therapist and it's midnight. Go to bed."

Stung, Madhu finally did what he said. Leaving the room, she made sure to slam shut the door as hard as possible, deriving petty satisfaction from the act even though he probably didn't notice.

Light shower was still falling in the open courtyard, making the stone floor of the hallway encircling it feel ice-cold beneath her bare feet. She went around the hallway and into her own room, curling into a cocoon of her blanket, and trying to shut her mind.

It was hard to flush the echoes of his harsh voice from her mind. Madhu was more surprised than hurt. And a tiny part of her heart still twisted, remembering the look on his face when she had found him in the kitchen.

His hands had been shaking and skin looked ashen. But what had terrified Madhu the most was the empty, almost dead look in his eyes. They hadn't warmed or crinkled or softened like they usually did when around her. Instead, they remained cold. Staring unseeingly as she rushed towards him, asking repeatedly if he was alright, squeezing a half-cut lemon into water as he wordlessly returned to his room.

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