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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Morning breaks with a serene view, finding my husband before me. The fun fact was, Nischay was shirtless, and that his eyes were staring at me as if he was left with nothing else to do. Before any other thought crawls up my head, I notice the curls of his messed hair, his arm resting upon the pillow and his lips held up faintly.
Something has touched in his smile, or it was just another random thought.
"Slept good?" Nischay wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him slowly, and the faded visions of last night pooled through my head, setting my cheeks ablaze.
God, it must be a dream. It has to be.
I don't remember anything clearly, and I don't really think that Nischay would tell me anything. If whatever happened yesterday wasn't a dream but reality, I'm so fucked up. I don't remember how I reached home. Was all of it real or just another wet dream?
It doesn't seem important to ask anyway. But considering for a fact, why am I wearing his shirt when I really don't remember doing anything? Was I that drunk? Was that really not a dream?
God, I want to bury myself.
"Zoya?" Nischay suddenly mumbles, the hoarse rasp breaking my trance as I hummed to him. "Aren't you wondering about last night?"
I sink my teeth into the cushion of my lip, finding ways to run away from him. "Nope."
"Okay." He wasn't surprised. "Well, I do have questions for you."
Does that mean last night wasn't a dream? It was all—real?
"I have questions for you, too." I shove him away from me tenderly and looked into his eyes. "Infact, complains." I said, harsh. "Dozens of them."
I kinda tried to walk away from him, from this room but he's pulling me back every time.
"I know, darling." Nischay isn't worried. He's caressing my face and stroking my hair like it was fine either way. "But we can fix that out, right? I can be better for you."
A pang coils in my chest, and I suddenly turn feeble. "Tell me how does that explain you abandoning our first ever planned date?"
"It doesn't." Nischay mumbles slowly. "I know I'm so terribly at fault. I admit it, Zoya. But it was so sudden I swear to god. I didn't wanna leave."
He's stroking my face tenderly, softly. His hands are raveling in mine. Everything is suddenly so beautiful it nearly aches. "But you left anyway, Nischay." I whisper. "She was more important for you than us."
"You're wrong, Zoya." Nischay says, eyes wandering between mine possessively. "No one will ever be important for me than us."
"Easier said than done."
The shame left me for the night passed, what remained was pure despair.
"Sometimes, Nischay," I shudder as I look up at him. "I feel like I'm forcing everything on you. As if I'm the only one putting efforts into this relationship. Everything goes right for a month, then trips upside down in a moment all of a sudden. And then, just like that, gone."
