The Oculesics- Ek Kahaani Junoon Ki

25.

Although I couldn’t meet the intended target, I still chose to post it for my regular readers who’ve been waiting patiently. No targets today — just a humble request: if you read and liked the chapter, please do take a moment to vote. Your support means everything. ❤️

Dhimahi's POV-

It has been two weeks since that night—since everything began to fall apart quietly, piece by piece.

Trayambak barely speaks to me now. He comes home late, long after midnight, when the city is asleep and the world is silent. Even then, he walks in like a shadow—wordless, cold, distant. His phone keeps buzzing; he’s always on a call. The media is celebrating the massive deal his company signed with that UK-based firm. Everyone seems thrilled for him.

And I am, too. I truly am. He worked so hard for it. He dreamt of this moment.
But then, why does it feel like my joy has no place in his world anymore?

He doesn’t look at me the way he used to. His eyes don’t soften when they meet mine. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t compliment me. There is no warmth, no touch. Just silence—so loud it echoes inside me.

After that incident, I had asked him timidly whether I should continue with my job or not. He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply said,
"Tumhe jo karna hai karo Dhimahi, mujhse mat pucho." ["Do whatever you want, Dhimahi. Don't ask me."]
He said it calmly, even gently—and that’s what hurt the most. He meant it. I could feel the sincerity in his detachment.

So I kept the job.
I even told my colleagues about my marriage. They were shocked, their eyes quietly searching mine for an explanation. But they didn’t press me for answers. I could see the unspoken questions lingering in the air, heavy and awkward.

I apologized to Ayushman. I had to.
Had I been honest from the start, he would’ve never fallen for me. He wouldn’t have proposed.
And Trayambak… Trayambak wouldn’t have beaten him half to death.

The day Trayambak confronted me, I gathered courage and asked him—Did you do it? Were you behind Ayushman’s accident?
I hoped—God, I hoped—I was wrong. But no.
He looked me dead in the eye and said yes.

He said Ayushman tried to take what is his. So he made sure he’d never try again.
He told me, expressionless and cold, how he waited for Ayushman near his house, how he punched him—first in the gut, then in the face.
He kicked him in the abdomen, broke his hand—the same hand that once held mine.
The same knee that bent to propose to me was shattered under Trayambak’s wrath.
And then… he did worse. He smeared roll-on balm on Ayushman's lips. Splashed hot coffee over them, over his already burning wounds.

I asked him—How did you know where and when? How did you know anything at all?
At first, he was quiet. Then, with the same terrifying calm, he told me he had planted Akriti to keep an eye on me.
"Yeh shak nahi tha, sirf saavdhaani thi." ["It wasn’t suspicion—it was precaution."]

Since that day, he has stopped speaking to me like a partner. He responds, but never starts a conversation.
He hired maids to cook for us. Said he didn’t want me to get tired.
But he never asked if I wanted to cook.
Cooking for him is my joy, my quiet love letter in every dish.

At night, he lies beside me, yet feels miles away.
He never holds me. Never touches me.
His back faces me like a wall I cannot cross.
And still, I reach for him.
I wrap my arms around him when we sleep.
I kiss his cheek and lips when he walks in—pretending it’s just another day.
But he never kisses me back, like he always used to do religiously, like some ritual.
Never says he missed me.
Never says anything at all.

I know I hurt him.
But this silence—it’s not just punishment.
It’s regret.
His, and mine.

He blames himself.
And I know he does.
He thinks his harshness pushed me away. That his possessiveness poisoned everything.
And maybe… maybe he’s right. But I was wrong too.
I should’ve trusted him.
I should’ve told him the truth.
I misjudged him.