Between The Blue

11

There is one thing about life— the more you predict, the more it mystifies, and one moment of joy is often followed by a grave circle of venom. They say it keeps you grounded, and we believe it— so we continue to move on, do not get overwhelmed, and often slide our failures under the rug of learning.

But to what extent?

Sometimes you are just forced to stop, take a moment, hold a grudge, and complain about how much and why me?

Sometimes it's out of desperation, sometimes out of exaggeration, and sometimes it's just the result of losing hope, the latter being the worst of all, because only then do we know the end is near. It's the lowest of lows. And it's the rock bottom the oceans are scared of. It's nerve-wracking, it makes your blood dry and leaves you white, pale, and sick— hopeless and distraught.

And the silence before that, it's terrifying.

Nothing scares you more than the fear of the result of fear, because you can never win over it, it's non-existent, yet very real. It lives in your mind, the very evidence of scenarios that play—on a loop, repeatedly, even when you feel numb. You fear its arrival and do not hope for its dismissal, because it hasn't even arrived, yet.

Prateek stood there holding the roll of newspaper in his arm, his eyes accusing.

Hiral watched stupefied. She was not yet ready to face him, she realized. The last time she had seen him was when he had left that night after telling her all his heart, she had left before he returned and now seeing him in flesh and blood, same white face, crisp neat jaw, the shrill smell of cologne, and fierce eyes, ready to eat the world, terrified her.

Just looking at him, left her petrified, her heart racing up.

"So your Highness is sleeping after burning my whole world down" He gripped her arm pulling her inside and slamming the newspaper on the little dressing table at the corner as it fell.

His eyes quickly drifted to Sheetal who was deep in sleep, the blanket muffled somewhere down her, her flesh visible from the side of her kurta and the line to her chest as white as heaving. He scrunched his nose in disgust. Hiral felt some rage building up inside her when she suggested politely, her words measured, "Bhabhi is sleeping. Let's go outside"

"Why? Had fun at your kitty party?" He yelled surprised detecting the venom in her voice.

Sheetal woke up with a shrill. Her eyes widened as she watched Prateek and Hiral standing in the middle of the room. Quickly, she straightened up, as she held her head, gaining her posture, and got out of the bed, while moving towards Hiral, holding her arm, "What's wrong?"

Hiral said nothing.

She didn't know.

"You cried like you were innocent. You looked at me like I was horrible." Prateek marched forward mimicking her, yelling in red rage grabbing her arm. "Drama-all drama" He scoffed bending to her level and standing just an inch away from her, "and now look at you going out on dates with your boyfriend, not even many days after you came crying to your home of how bad of a husband you have got, how you are latched to chains at your in-laws, What happened? All your drama gone—?" He dropped her elbow with a jerk.

Hiral rubbed her elbow not able to understand a word as he kept taunting her. Going out on dates, what was he speaking?

"But if you had to put your slut-ery to display like that, then should have done it behind closed curtains." He picked up the newspaper from the floor gritting his teeth, "There was no need to expose me to the public like that. You might not be having any respect in the society, but I do." He shoved the newspaper in her palm, pressing it down with such force, that Sheetal stepped up, covering her from the side, trying to protect.