Poles Apart

Chapter Fifty-Three

He grins sheepishly. "Because I wasn't there to take care of you."

I shake my head at his reasoning. "Seriously, Arjun?"

"Sorry," he apologises, resting his forehead against mine.
I stand on my toes to peck his lips. "How was Dubai?" I ask him, caressing his beard covered jaw.

A half-smile crosses his lips. "It was good," he replies, leaning down to meet my lips again.

"Good?" I press, pulling back, not allowing him to deepen the kiss.

"Good," he repeats, his hands trailing down my back to my butt.

"You don't sound convinced yourself," I point out, firmly planting my hand on his chest to stop him from distracting me.

Arjun sighs, his body language clearly emanating annoyance. "What? I'm not allowed to give you a proper kiss until I tell you that the deal is closed?"

"Arjun," I say lightly, hoping this wouldn't turn into a fight. The week had been more emotionally exhausting than anything else, and without Arjun around it seemed as if I had too much time on my hands to let my thoughts wander. And now, I've also annoyed Arjun, who's practically never annoyed at me. "I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy, and you're tired—" I can feel my eyes burning, the tear walls ready to crumble under emotional wear, and look down, not wanting to annoy him further by crying— "I was just—" I gulp, trying to keep my voice unwavering— "I don't know—" Arjun tries to lift my chin to look at him but I push his hand away, diving into his shirt, instead— "I'm sorry," I sob.

"Arvi," Arjun sounds alarmed as the tears flow out of my eyes, wetting his white shirt. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh," he explains, cupping my cheek and trying to make me look at him, but I tightly coil my hands around his waist and rest my forehead against his chest, crying pathetically, with my shoulders shaking as sobs rack my form. "Arvi," I can hear him saying, but I can't take a break to acknowledge him.

"Arvi," Arjun forces me to look up at him with my tear-streaked face. He wipes my tears away with his thumbs, but fresh tears stream down my cheeks quickly. "I'm sorry," he implores, wiping away more tears.

"It's not you," I hiccup, moving back to sit on the bed as I wipe away the remnants of my hysterical crying a moment ago. I press my fingers against my eyes when I feel my eyes burning with unshed tears, begging myself not to cry, and try not to hiccup, but I can't stop any of it, waves of pain rush over me, leaving me shivering as I try to comfort myself, dousing me with cold memories and thoughts every time I think it's over.

"What's wrong?" Arjun asks softly, kneeling onto his knees and pulling my hands off my eyes.

I observe his features; tired eyes with dark circles showcasing sleepless nights, messy hair, tousled from frustration and annoyance, loosened tie; an exhausted appearance overall.

"It's nothing," I reply, my voice small. "I just got too emotional about something—"

"It's not nothing," Arjun cuts me off firmly. "You were sobbing, Arvi. I need to know— deserve to know what's wrong."

Once again, the tears run out of my eyes, and I collapse into a sobbing mess. "You'll think it's silly," I sob, covering my face.

"You're crying about this, Arvi."

"So it doesn't have to make sense," I cry, sniffling.

"Okay, it doesn't have to make sense," he agrees, and I feel the bed dipping next to me. "Tell me what happened."

~.~.~.~.~

Arjun

"My mother came to see me when I was sick," Arvi hiccups. I pour a glass of water for her, making use of the water jug and glass on the bedside. "I said something to her and she said something back to me; she hasn't talked to me since then."