Trapped in a Maze!

Part_17_Convincing💕

A.N: Here you go the chapter 17 of the story.
Keep voting and do inline comments, share your thoughts about the chapter and characters.

Next part we will get an emotional connection with a slight romantic touch.💟

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Abhinav returned home from work, feeling the weight of the day's challenges and the ongoing tension with Akshara. As he reached the front door, it opened, revealing Akshara. She met his eyes briefly before stepping aside to let him in, her silence speaking volumes. He could see the lingering anger and disappointment in her eyes.

"Hey," he greeted softly, hoping for some acknowledgment.

"Hi," she replied curtly before walking back into the house, leaving him standing in the hallway.

Abhinav in his mind, "Abhi bhi naraaz hai mujhse, Kya karu yaar, Pura din sochta raha paar...

Thudd!!!

The slam of the door echoed through the house as Abhinav stepped inside. He winced, the sound confirming what Aarohi had warned him about – Akshara was still fuming. He sighed, the weight of her anger heavy on his chest.

He knew it wasn't fair.
A misunderstanding, fueled by her amnesia, had her convinced he was somehow responsible for Aarohi leaving. Yet, when he saw the slammed shut bedroom door, the echo of it vibrated through him like a physical blow.

Frustration clawed at his throat. He couldn't explain, their past, their love, the tragedy they'd shared –not yet. The doctor's chilling words echoed – "Another episode could be fatal. "Too much emotional stimulation could trigger another episode." He was a prisoner in this charade, his love a ghost haunting a stranger's body.

"Isse kehte hai aapne hi bichhaye hue jaal mai khud faans jana. Kaise sambhalu aapko Akshara?” he wondered, running a hand through his hair.

"Mai aapko sach bhi nehi bata sakta, aur nahi aise naraaz dekh sakta hoon."

Abhinav sighed, knowing he needed to do something to bridge the gap between them. His gaze darted to the kitchen, a battlefield where strategy could blossom. He knew her weakness, a vice as deep as his own love – her mother's legendary kachoris.

An: Yes yes yes. Yeh mere dimaag mei kaise nehi aya. Aab toh unhe jhaat se mana lunga. Paar agaar taste bura hua toh? Nehi nehi, try karne mei kya hai...

A desperate hope flickered within him. It wouldn't erase the misunderstanding, wouldn't bridge the chasm, but maybe, just maybe, it could be a bridgehead – a familiar comfort in a sea of confusion.

He moved towards the kitchen, determination in his steps. As he entered, his eyes fell on the counter. There, exactly where he had left it, was the note he had written in the morning. Unread, untouched. His heart sank a little.

"She didn’t even see it," he thought, the pain of rejection stabbing through him.

He picked up the note, his fingers trembling slightly. He had poured his heart into those few lines, hoping it might ease some of the tension.

He crumpled the note in his fist, the paper crunching under the pressure of his frustration. "Kaab yeh sab kab khatam hoga? Kab woh samjhnegi ki mai unse kitna Pyaar karta hoon..."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Focus, Abhinav. Kachoris. It's a start."

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. As he kneaded the dough, his thoughts wandered to their happier times. He remembered her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. He remembered the warmth of her presence, a warmth that now seemed so distant.