37a - Thundering of storms(S2)

In the lonely ends of nights that didn't seem to end but miserably stretched on and on, Niharika was tired-exhausted from crying for what felt like an unidentifiable hour, during which she had completely lost her sense of time.

Finally, she decided to find her way, though it seemed impossible. She felt utterly hopeless and drained, wandering along endless roads where not a single sign of life appeared. She was clueless, but she tried not to focus on her feelings at that moment.

Distracting herself was the only strategy she could manage.

She didn't hope for any miracle to happen, nor for her husband to show up.

She gritted her lips together-no, maybe deep down, she wanted him to rescue her, to witness her shattered form one more time.

Gradually, her reality was shifting, becoming more arrogantly absurd.

Her husband was becoming her air. Once again, she was making a fool of herself, clinging to hopes that had no grounding. She knew it. She was letting her husband become her air yet again-there was no doubt about it.

But she wouldn't dare confuse it, no matter how hard her heart tried to align with false hopes of something wholesome this time. There was no room for soothing feelings. This entire situation wasn't some dreamy fantasy of a knight or endless, wild dreams.

It was cold, hard reality.

'Yes, indeed, you've become my air. But not the one that's good for me.' Somehow, he had become the force that would hasten her own demise.

In the end, he wasn't her oxygen-he was something similar of sulfur dioxide, ridiculing her as he poisoned her. Toxic as hell, he irritated her at the core, choking her uncomfortably.

She was breathing harshly, not because of the tiredness from walking, but from all the events she had endured in a single day. So many things had happened, just like her freedom-everything slipped from her hands.

Nothing stayed.

Everything was snatched away, one panic followed by another.

Niharika looked around, staring, trying to at least educate herself about where she was. Everything about this place was new to her: this state, this city, this unknown land.

All of it came as an unwelcome bonus to her existence.

It was too much to adjust to already. And now, here she was, in some unknown, unidentified place, abandoned by her dear husband.

And even after this much time had passed, her husband didn't even dare to come check on her.

She stopped staring at one place, letting her lehnga down, which she had been carrying with both hands, and rubbed her running nose with her arm.

Nothing popped into her mind, but then she felt she wouldn't play a stupid game by sitting there crying. She looked up and around. She decided she would go find something, some way herself.

But her broken heart? What would she do with that now?

Poor girl was heartbroken, right? She was confused-should she play the smart girl role and lead her way, or just cry over how broken she was? She was terrified-terrified of the suffocating feeling of abandonment that was creeping into her every breath.

so she didn't know right now if she...She cried uncontrollably, breaking down there?

Her once-bright, pretty eyes were all swollen and red, their sparkle long gone. Tears followed the same paths down her cheeks, carving trails on her face, where the earlier ones having dried to a crisp.

Was this what freedom looked like?

Was she supposed to celebrate her final moment? Was this the freedom she got from his side? She reminded herself of that look-he didn't seem like he was having any trouble leaving her here. After such a horrible reception, she was already having her breakup moment.

Puchna toh bohot kuch tha lekin, kya woh uske sawal ka jawab bhi de payega?

Would he even have answers to all her questions? And even if he did, would those answers ever justify what he had done to her?

A poor girl was left distressed in such a way that she didn't quite understand whom to blame for her terrifically poor position.

Her heart was shattered, left bleeding metaphorically as she cleaned up someone else's mess. That "someone" was none other than her husband-the man who should have been her shield but turned out to be the sword slicing through her spirit, the biggest glory of mockery.

He was the reason her heart churned into a thousand bleeds, and she was practically thrown, naked, onto the fields of roses with sharp, teeth-biting thorns.

However, the real struggle was that she didn't deserve this at all.

The garden was someone else's, the roses belonged to someone else, so the thorns were also meant for someone else. She wasn't anyone's scapegoat. She wasn't someone meant to bear the punishment for another's poorly dealt drama.

She was supposed to be rewarded for handling the situation so gracefully, but all she got were the pain to endure.

And for what? What sense did this make to a 23-year-old girl like Niharika?

None. Absolutely none.

So she stopped trying to understand.

No more. Not now.

Why should she be the one to understand everyone, to bend for everyone, when not one single soul bothered to understand her?

Why should she always be the one throwing stones at the sky, only for none of them to ever hit the target?

She wasn't sure whom she was supposed to go to. Neither was she determined to find out, for now. She decided she would choose her self-respect over some fleeting, deceptive highs of dopamine. That false happiness was a mirage, a temporary delusion that dissolved faster than it arrived.

Yes, she was delicate, kind, and pure-hearted.

But she wasn't foolish. She wasn't a clown.

Or maybe this was her last day on earth-that's why she was rebelling from her heart and opposing everything she had always been asked to follow. Or maybe she had been hit somewhere deep inside-that's why she decided to think this way.

What matters, right? She cried and searched for a cloth in her pocket.

That's where she found her phone.

She wiped her tears, and like every other girl in her post-breakup phase, she decided to reach out for her brother's support. She leaned toward the idea of returning to the home she left-the home she was abandoned in, and now abandoned from, too.

Fleeing the scene and escaping the uneven emotions she was dealing with, she desperately unlocked her phone and dialed her brother's number. Tears dropped onto the screen, blurring her vision. She quickly cleared them and sniffled before putting the phone to her ear.

She didn't reflect too much on calling anyone else.

Even though her bond with her brother was freshly rekindled, and their understanding of each other hadn't fully developed, she couldn't help but hold on to this last thread or straw of hope for support.

She desperately wished for a positive answer from him, at least. Her brother could have helped her-maybe even lectured her husband for his actions, or perhaps taken her back home with him.

But all of this didn't last long.

She dialed again and placed the phone back to her ear. "N...no," she muttered, dialing once more.

Each time, the result was the same-no answer, the phone unreachable. Disappointed, she muttered, "D...di..d t.they alre..ady leave f...o.or the f..fflight back?" She nodded nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear, and tried again, only to face the same result.

No one picked up her calls.

Niharika put her phone down, stepping backward until she hit something and then sat on a stone. Now, who could she turn to for help? She had no choices left. She knew no one else in that family, and as for the man who abandoned her... could she really call him? And why would he even come here?

With her phone screen dimming, it felt like her lifeline was also fading. It became painfully clear to her-no one truly cared.

She was alone in this battle ---One truth was proven to her in that moment.

She looked down at the phone screen, staring at her reflection in its glow. Her own scared eyes stared back at her, like those of a frightened kitten. New tears began forming in the corners of her eyes, dropping onto the screen.

She gently turned off the phone, pressing it against her chest, and then brought it near her heart as she cried.

She looked up and around, screaming, "W...why?" Her voice cracked. "W..h.hy do...e.es he do e...e..everything to m...a..ake me ha..t.te him? Why i...s he ac...acting so difficult?"

So many "whys" lingered in her mind, invading her heart's territory.

"I h...o..ope H-he d..i.ies. I hope he d.d...di..ies. I w...a..ant to l..ive freely," she screamed, her voice laced with grief. "Y...e.es, low...key, I w..ant h.him to d...die," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I w..w.want him to d...i..ie so I c-can be re...released from th..is pain... this un...k..known p..ain."

Sometimes, it's hard to escape your reality when your supposed savior-the one who's meant to save you-is the same person destroying every chance at life you could have had. In truth, they are destroying not just your life but you.