The Unspoken Tension!

        A notification popped up on my phone — a text from him announcing his arrival. I ignored the message and walked toward outside.

As I stepped out of the salon in a stunning lavender lehenga, the warm sunlight danced across the intricate embroidery, while he was standing infront of the salon. He straightened up from leaning against his car, his gaze lingering on me with admiration. 

I avoided eye contact, my gaze drifting away, and he sensed my reluctance. I started walking towards him, the rustle of my lehenga's fabric echoing softly with each step. 

        As I approached the car, he opened the door for me, carefully arranging my lehenga to prevent it from getting caught, his fingers brushing against the fabric. The air conditioning's gentle hum enveloped me as I settled in.

After closing the door, he got into the driver's seat and started the car. I looked out the window, trying to distance myself from him.

When we arrived at our destination, he opened the door for me. As I was about to step out of the car, he offered his hand for support, anticipating my need for help in the heavy lehenga. 

I gazed at his outstretched hand for a moment, a mind still simmering with anger. With family members watching us from the entrance, I discreetly placed my dupatta in his hand instead of taking his, subtly conveying my desire to keep him at a distance without drawing attention.

        As we entered the grand marquee, the soft glow of the chandeliers above cast a warm ambiance, and the hum of conversation filled the air. The scent of fresh flowers wafted through the room, mingling with the faint aroma of food from the buffet. 

After greeting everyone, he pulled out a chair for me, so we could sit together. However, I ignored him, pretending not to notice, and walked to the other side of the table, the cool glass of the table a subtle comfort against my fingertips as I grasped the edge, I sat across from him. 

For a moment, he stood there, watching me walk away from him, knowing well that I was intentionally ignoring him. Then, he walked towards me and sat beside me.

        As we stepped out of the marquee, the cool night air enveloped us, a welcome contrast to the warmth we'd left behind. The soft glow of the fairy lights and lanterns still twinkled within the marquee, but outside, the dimly lit surroundings seemed subdued in comparison. 

The soft rustle of my lehenga swishing against my legs as I moved. I picked the front of my lehenga in my hands, feeling the intricate embroidery beneath my fingertips, and was about take a step down, when he extended his hand to help me down the step, but I glanced at it from the corner of my eye and looked away. 

I walked past him, leaving his outstretched hand hanging in the air, and headed straight to the car, which the valet had brought around to the front of the marquee. 

The scent of polished leather wafted up as I settled into the passenger seat beside the driver's seat, he got in after me, took the driver's seat, and started driving, the warm glow of the dashboard lights casting a soft light on the interior.

        When we arrived home, the car stopped at the main gate, and the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires filled the air. I opened the door, got out barefoot, feeling the cool breeze on my skin and the rough texture of the driveway beneath my feet. I left my heels in the car, having grown tired of wearing them the whole time. 

Meanwhile, the gardener opened the main gate, its creaky hinges echoing through the quiet air. I entered the house, the heavy lehenga swaying against my legs as I walked, its intricate fabric weighing me down. The delicate embroidery rustled softly against my palms as I held it up from the front, the gentle sound accompanied by the subtle jingling of my anklets and the soft swish of the fabric against my skin while he observed me from the car. 

The scent of jasmine wafted through the air, from the lawn outside, carried in through the open glass door. The sweet fragrance mingling with the faint fragrance of perfume on my skin as I walked towards my room to change, the familiar comfort of my space enveloping me like a warm hug.

In the meantime, he parked the car, the sound of the engine dying down and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaling the end of our journey.

        As I entered my room, the air was filled with the scent of roses. A stunning bouquet of nearly 100 red velvet roses adorned my bed, with a small box nestled beside it. 

I walked towards the arrangement, my fingers grazing the soft petals with a gentle touch, feeling the delicate texture and slight give of the rose's velvety surface. The soft rustle of the petals and the faint hum of the air conditioner in the background created a soothing melody.

I knew instinctively that Mustafa had arranged this romantic gesture. I opened the box, the creak of the lid broke the silence, revealing a beautiful gold bracelet that sparkled in the light. 

For a moment, I got lost in my thoughts, but then my reverie was replaced with a sudden burst of action. I closed the box and placed it on the couch, then carefully lifted the bouquet off the bed and dragged it down to the floor. I positioned it in the corner of my room, standing it upright with the stems wrapped in the sheets. 

        And then, I headed to the washroom to change out of my dress. After changing, I came out of my room, wearing a scoop neck loose Tshirt and stood near the kitchen counter, pouring water into a glass. The cool liquid splashed against the glass, and the sound of it filled the air.

From there, I spotted him standing on the porch, holding my heels in his hand—the same ones I had left in the car moments ago. He was engrossed in conversation with the gardener near the entrance door.

He caught sight of me from the corner of his eye. I picked up the glass and went into my room, thinking he'd head to the study room upstairs to rest, as he had slept there the night before. 

However, as I turned to dim the lights in my room, I saw him sitting in the lounge outside, waiting for me.

As I saw him, I slid into bed, pulled the blanket up to my waist, and turned my back to him, pretending to sleep rather than talk. 

He sensed I was ignoring him and got up, dimming the lounge lights before heading upstairs. I didn't bother to turn or look. I closed my eyes and fell asleep soon after.

        It was two in the morning. I was in a deep sleep when I felt him gently running his fingers through my hair. I opened my eyes slightly and saw him near my bed. 

As our eyes met, my gaze drifted away, and I let out a silent sigh. Not again, I thought. The last thing I wanted was to face him.

I sat up in bed, and he knelt down beside it, taking my hands in his gently but firmly. 

"You know why I came here," he said, looking at me. 

I kept my gaze on the floor, neither speaking nor showing any expression.

"I miss you," he continued. 

"I missed you so much. I came to apologize. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." His eyes searched for a reaction, but I remained still. 

"Say something," he added.

"What should I say?" I asked without looking at him. "What do you want me to say?"

He sat beside me, facing me, and held my chin, turning my face toward him. 

"Please forgive me. I can't live like this", he said.

I turned my face away again, and he pulled me close, hugging me. While i remained still, my hands resting limply in my lap.

"I love you," he said. "I love you so much. You know I loved you more than anything in my life. I promise I'll never do that again", he said and kissed my head as he held me. 

        As I freed myself from his hug, the soft fabric of his shirt brushed against my skin. He looked at me, his eyes searching for answers, and asked, "Can I stay here tonight?" 

I knew he hadn't slept well in the study room the previous night, so I let out a sigh and hummed in agreement. 

I placed cushions in the center of the bed, creating a barrier between us, lay down on my side, feeling the coolness of the sheets against my skin, turned my back to him, pulled the blanket up to my waist, and closed my eyes to sleep. 

For a moment, he sat there, watching me, before getting up to turn off the lights and lying down on the other side of the cushions.

        In the morning, the warm sunlight streaming through the window woke me up. I found myself wrapped in his arms, my hands tucked under my chin against his chest, my forehead against his chin, and his arms wrapped around my waist. 

The scent of his cologne lingered on his shirt, and his chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. I looked up at him, and he was still fast asleep. I glanced around, noticing that the cushions I had placed between us the night before were now on the couch near the bed, softly illuminated by the morning light. I wanted to get out of his arms, but I was wrapped too tightly. 

Instead, I stayed still, pondering how I'd ended up in his arms. When I felt him stir, I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep.

He shifted slightly to get a better look at me, then pulled me close, his warm breath on my hair, kissed my head, and hugged me tightly. 

        Afterward, he got up carefully, trying not to disturb me, and held my hand in his. The back of my hand rested in his palm as he slid my wedding ring back onto my finger—the same ring I had thrown at him during a tantrum. 

The metal felt cool against my skin, as he put the ring back in place, he kissed my head and left the room, the door creaking softly as it closed behind him. I opened my eyes, and my gaze lingered on the wedding ring on my finger. I kept looking at it for a while, lost in thought.