34
RUDRAKSH
I hate it when Shivani goes to her house.
Every time she comes back from there, she becomes reserved.
Quiet and distant. She doesn’t share much.
Doesn’t talk much. But I’ve had enough. Earlier, I used to drop the topic because I couldn't pry—we weren’t close, and honestly, I didn’t care that much.
But I do now. More than before. More than I care about anyone else.
This time too, she came back reserved, with no shine in her eyes.
She’s standing on the balcony, looking at the moon, lost in her own world. Moonlight falls on her face; she looks like a dream. "You have to tell me, Shivani." I hug her from behind, urging her to tell me the truth.
"What?" She asks slowly. I turn her around to face me.
"You're hiding something." I look at her intensely. Her eyes widen only slightly, but she hides her shock and shakes her head. She's too easy to read; I don't know who told her that she could hide anything.
"Shivani, please. I’m your husband. I don't want any secrets between us, baby." As I tell her, I can feel her tensing up in my arms. It’s confirmed now—she’s hiding something, but she still won’t admit it. I have to be careful. I don’t want to push too hard and make her withdraw even more.
I take a deep breath and try again. "Please, baby. Talk to me. You can trust me. I'm on your side, always." I hold her tighter, hoping to convey my sincerity through my touch. But she just shakes her head in denial.
"There’s nothing to share," she says, her voice wobbling. I take another breath, frustrated and upset.
I thought I was one step closer, with the way she's comfortable with my touch, with eating in front of me. I really thought we were getting somewhere. I want her to talk to me so badly. To let me in. To let me help her. But she just stands there, shutting me out. It’s maddening—to have the person I care most about in the world standing right in front of me and yet feel so far away from her.
I’m tempted to grab her and shake her, demanding she tell me what’s going on. But I know that won’t help. She needs me to be gentle. Patient. Understanding. So I kiss her forehead, slowly trailing down to her cheekbones. Her breath quickens at my actions, and I peck her lips softly.
"Come on, baby," I whisper against her mouth, my hand roaming over her back as I pull her tightly into me.
She winces, arching her back as I have hurt her. "Aah."
I step back immediately, looking at her with concern. "What happened?" I ask, my voice rising in concern.
"Nothing," she replies quickly as she tries to hide her discomfort, or more, something like pain. She avoids meeting my eyes as she wriggles in my grip. I look at her for a moment. Why? Anger surges through me. Did I do something to hurt her? I don't think so; I just hugged her.
"Are you in pain?" I ask again, breathing heavily.
She shakes her head furiously. "No," she says. "Nothing is wrong. I am not in pain. Please stop asking me that." Her eyes are wide, shimmering with unshed tears.
She’s furious.
But so am I. I am her husband. I’m not asking for too much. I just want to know if she’s okay.
"Stop lying to me!" I snap, my patience finally breaking. "I know something’s wrong! You flinched when I touched you. And now you’re wincing. I can see the pain in your eyes, even if you won’t admit it." Her eyes widen at my outburst, but she doesn’t back down.
"There’s nothing wrong," she replies stubbornly. "I’m just tired." I step closer, backing her up until her back hits the wall.
"Shivani, I hate lies," I remind her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’ve mentioned that already." I look at her intently, and she gulps.
"Either you tell me..." I pause, leaning in closer, "or—" I smirk bitterly, "Actually, there’s no ‘or.’" I press my body against hers, firm and demanding.
"Let's talk when you are ready to tell me whatever the fuck you are hiding." I whisper in her ear. I know it’s emotional blackmail, but she’s hurting. She’s not sharing it with anyone.
And I am her husband—her other half—so why does she get to bear the pain alone?
She has to share it with me. She has to learn that.
Her eyes flutter shut as my lips graze hers. I inhale her scent as I nibble on her bottom lip, and she gasps softly against my mouth. I press my lips more firmly against hers, exploring her mouth with slow, deliberate movements. Her body relaxes slightly beneath mine, melting into my touch.
I break the kiss, breathing heavily.
"Come on, baby. Share with me," I murmur softly, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling. Her eyes open, and she meets my eyes. I can almost hear the battle going on in her head, and for a moment, there’s hope. I think she might finally open up. But her silence is deafening.
My frustration grows. I feel like we are trapped in a time loop, me asking if everything's alright, her replying yes despite the obvious agony in her eyes.
"Okay," I say, masking my disappointment with coldness. I step back. Cold air engulfing me. "So that’s how it is." I give her one last lingering look before walking into the bedroom.
I sit on my side of the bed, a pang of loneliness settling in my chest as I lie down.
My eyes wander up at the ceiling. The room is silent; the only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second seems to drag on forever, as if time itself is punishing me.
She’s still on the balcony, alone with her thoughts. Is she thinking about me? Is she hurting too? I toss and turn, but my mind won’t shut off.
"Damn it," I mutter aloud. I look at the clock and see that it’s been an hour since I left her standing out there. Instantly, I turn to my side, staring at the empty space beside me. It feels strange, uncomfortable, and incomplete without her.
I close my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep. But it’s impossible. My body aches for her presence. I can't sleep when my wife is suffering. My arms miss her warmth. Should I go and bring her back?
No, I will wait. If there's even a slight chance of me winning this battle I am having with her brain, I will take it. I lie there, restless. The darkness feels heavier without her beside me.
I hear the soft padding of feet on the floor; it's her footsteps. I have memorized them. I freeze. Listening. She’s coming. A wave of relief crashes over me. But I keep still. I don’t want her to know how much her absence has affected me.
She walks in slowly, each step hesitant, unsure. I don’t turn to look. I feel her sit on the bed. Her side of the mattress dips slightly.
She’s quiet.
But I feel her eyes on me. Studying me. Probably trying to figure out if I’m asleep. Despite the tension, her nearness soothes something inside me, and then the tension eases in my shoulders. I move just slightly—enough for her to know I’m awake.
"I’m scared," she admits softly. Her voice is hoarse—probably from crying. I turn around to face her. Our eyes meet, and all that facade of coldness I was wearing fades. She lies down beside me, facing away. I reach out and wrap my arm around her waist, intertwining our legs. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it, trying to reassure her that I’m here.
A sob escapes her lips, and I run my hand gently down her back—she winces again, and I pull my hand away instantly. She's hurt; how, I don't know, but she's hurt.
"Why are you scared, darling?" I ask slowly.