Sitting before the mirror on her wedding day, adorned with the red bridal attire, Zoya, Delhi's one of the most renowned Gynecologist couldn't feign the absurd heaviness in her chest, as if something awful was going to happen. And the little hopeful...
Before we start, I want to address something. Those who're calling Zoya as dumb and naive, or assuming her as a crazy woman, try putting yourself in her shoes. Try imagining yourself as a person who's tried to attempt suicide for innumerable times. Try imagining yourself as the reason your mom died, and why your dad nearly got at the hands of death. Try imagining yourself as the reason of every problem and feel your presence cursed. Try imagining yourself having major panic and anxiety attacks, feeling like scrubbing your skin off when the minutest thing hurts you. And if you feel that you still can act calm, steady, extravagantly perfect in situations and not get hurt by any person's accusations, then feel welcome to criticize my woman.
Or most kindly, leave the book.
Aur baaki mere pyaari beheno, shuru karte hain bina kisi further bakchodi ke.
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"As much as I feel disheartened to say this officer, you're no good to me alive if you're powerless to find my wife!" I growl like the one wolf fuming with fury, grasping upon the uniform of the policeman. My eyes, drunken like a macabre whirlwind of emotions, fury enraged within the deepest shallows of my bones.
"You piece of useless shit—" my breathe trembles, "You deserve to die." the officer doesn't protest me, my behavior, probably because he doesn't know other language than his own. And that's how crushing his absolutely useless bones would be fucking easy for me.
A day has passed since Zoya ran off, disappeared into somewhere I don't have a clue about. Amidst the weaving sweet memories, she was trembling inside, feared of the winding coil of macabre emotions. I didn't notice her pain, her ache. I wasn't by her side when she was mingling her own meaningless thoughts. I wasn't there to tell her that she was wrong. I didn't tell her that I was there for her. That I loved exclusively her.
Why didn't I look after her? Why didn't I follow her when she left?
Perhaps, because never in my worst nightmares had I thought that she'd leave so anonymously, disappear like air from my life in a single fucking day.
And now when she's gone. I'm dying. Dying for even a mere breath.
"Tell me," I snarl at the scumbag, "Tell me where's my wife if your life's dear to you." I jerk him so ferociously his whole set of bones trembles to the core.
"Bhai, leave him." Tanmay is grabbing my arm, pulling me away. "Threatening or killing him won't bring her back. We need to stay in your senses to find her." His own breath is heaving.
"How?" I mumble, shuddering with the just the thought of her wandering alone in the streets of an unknown city. "How do I find her, Tanmay?" I jerk the policeman off, move my cadre to him. I hold his collar, the veins of my knuckles nearly popping out. "Nearly a day is going to pass, and we've got dust. I don't fucking know if my wife is even fine or not, if she's eaten something or not. I don't know if she's starving for a grain of food, thirsting for a single drop of water. I don't know if she's earned a second of calm—
