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...
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I was on my way back to the party when I see Shefali at a corner, crying silently. Anyways, it wasn't my business to interfere or ask her what happened but still she was my cousin, and Zoya said we should help each other, blah blah blah.
I sighed and walked closer to her. "Aren't you fine—
I couldn't even say properly, and she hugs me tight. So damn tight that she wasn't even budging when I tried to push her away. "I'm regretting a lot, Nischay."
Confusion crawls through my brain. "What?"
"For every wrong thing I did. I just feel like I shouldn't be in this world anymore." she says, clutching on my blazer even more as she nuzzles herself to my chest clinging to me.
I hate women who lunge at someone else's husband.
"It's okay. My wife says everyone deserved happiness, no matter what wrong you do you can still have a chance."
"Really?" her voice sounded like a chime.
"I think so." I try pushing her away from me another time but failed terribly.
"Can you stay still for five minutes?"
"Absolutely not. My wife's waiting for me."
"Then two minutes please, brother. Your blazer feels warm." she says and wraps her arms more into my blazer.
"Two minutes done." I break the hug as the exact time, but she squeals again. "Ow, Nischay."
I sigh rolling my eyes. "What's wrong now?"
"I think I got something in my eye, brother. Maybe something poked from your worn-out blazer."
"What nonsense is that? My outfit was exquisitely tailored." I squint my brows together as I cupped her face and looked into her left eye, the one that itched.
There's nothing.
No sooner had I said this, than I heard the shrill of glass breaking. I turned around my head in reflex and found the cake on the floor. The glass tower shattered into pieces. That is all that is else.
The first thing that my eyes notice is my wife.
Zoya, trembling so hard I can see the shudder crawling through her body from ten gaps away. She's scooping down to the ground and she's picking up the broken glasses and the cake in a futile effort to fix it. She's gone insane.
She needs me.
"Zoya." I call her name as I run to her.
"I'm sorry—I'm so sorry I didn't—
She is apologizing and crying and trembling. And I can't do anything, and I feel like crying as if I'm losing her.
"Zoya. Stop it." I said, stern coating my voice and grabbed her hand pulling her to stand still. She's trembling, and her is cut. Blood is dropping out of her palm and—
