DIVYA
My body trembled with fear as I met his enraged gaze. His eyes burned with a fury that made my heart race. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the shattered photo frame lying at my feet, a painful reminder of my carelessness.
Gulping nervously, I felt a lump form in my throat. The air around us crackled with tension, his anger palpable and suffocating. I wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the shadows and escape his wrath.
What if this photo frame was important to him? What if he gets angry and decides to kill me? All those thoughts were running through my mind, but I took a deep breath and decided to break the silence. I didn't break it intentionally, so I shouldn't be scared of him.
"I..." I gulped nervously, unable to form any more words as he glared at me. He looked like a predator, ready to pounce at any moment. He tilted his head, his jaw clenched in anger.
"I came to apologize here," I said in a low voice. He clenches his fists in fury.
"I am sorry for..." He cuts me off in the middle of the sentence and roars, "LEAVE!"
I took a step back at his outburst and rushed out of the room. It's better I leave; I have no intention of dying at such an early age.
As soon as I stepped out of the room, I heard a loud crashing sound. Like someone had broken something. I thought about turning around to check on him, but the memory of his wrath held me back, and I decided to leave.
I sighed in relief when I reached the living room, knowing that I was safe now. The woman who had opened the door for me emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of refreshments. She looked stunned to see me in the living room. Setting the tray on the coffee table, she walked over to me.
"Are you okay?" she asked, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. I gulped nervously and nodded.
"What happened? Did Raghav say anything to you?" she inquired. I licked my dry lips and replied, "No, actually, I broke a photo frame on his table, and he got angry. But it was an accident. I didn't mean to break it."
She gasped in shock at my confession.
Why is she reacting like this? And why is the photo frame so important? Is it his girlfriend's photo? Or his wife's? For some reason, the thought unsettled me. I felt a pang of jealousy at the idea that he might have another woman in his life, though I knew I shouldn't. It was unusual to feel this way about a man I hardly knew.
"Was it... an old frame?" she asked cautiously, her eyes searching mine for answers.
"Yes," I confirmed, wondering why my chest tightened at the thought.
"Do you know whose photo frame it was?" she asked. I shook my head.
"I don't know. Probably his girlfriend's or wife's photo," I replied. She shook her head.
What? Then whose photo is it? Why is he so protective about it? Now I'm really curious about the girl, and a bit jealous of her for having someone who loves her so much. On the other hand, I was born single and probably will die single.
"It's his mother's photo. She died when he was very young, and it's the only photo he has of her," she said sadly. Now, guilty would be an understatement. I broke his mother's photo-the only photo he had. No wonder he was so angry. I'm glad he didn't kill me for breaking it.
I was brought back to reality when I heard an angry, deep voice behind me. "What are you still doing here? Didn't I tell you to leave?" I gulped nervously, and the woman gave me a sad look. Without looking behind me, I knew it was Raghav who was yelling at me.
I turned around and found him standing a few meters away. My eyes fell on his hand, and a gasp escaped my mouth. His hands were bleeding. My body shook in fear. Saying he was angry would be an understatement.
"Raghav, your hands!" the woman exclaimed, rushing towards him.
Without giving him a glance, I rushed out of his house. I got inside my car and drove towards my apartment.
I held my breath until I reached my apartment. Sitting down on the sofa, I sighed in relief. I knew that now I was safe in my apartment, away from that devil who was ready to kill me if he got the opportunity. "Devil" - the word absolutely suited him. A small smile crept onto my face as I decided to call him devil from now onwards. Obviously, I wouldn't say it to his face. It was a secret nickname that I had given him.
It was almost evening, so I decided to have an early dinner since I was hungry. I quickly changed my clothes and wore my comfortable PJs. Opening the refrigerator, I found not a single piece of vegetable. I sighed in frustration and decided to eat cup noodles instead. I made a mental note to buy some veggies.
As I sat on the sofa with a steaming cup of noodles, the events of the day weighed heavily on my mind. Despite my attempts to distract myself, thoughts of Raghav crept in, unbidden. For the first time, a pang of sympathy tugged at my heartstrings. The realization dawned on me that because of my carelessness, he had lost the only tangible connection to his beloved mother.
In that moment, I couldn't help but imagine the depth of Raghav's grief, the void left by the absence of his mother's presence. It was a pain I couldn't fathom, a sorrow that must have etched itself into the very core of his being. The thought of him grappling with such profound loss stirred a newfound empathy within me.
The ache of losing someone dear, someone who held your world together, was a feeling I knew all too well. But to lose one's mother, the source of boundless love and nurturing, seemed an unbearable burden to bear. It dawned on me that perhaps Raghav's aloof demeanor and icy exterior were shields, defenses erected to shield himself from the pain that threatened to consume him.
I couldn't shake the image of a young Raghav, navigating the tumultuous waters of childhood without the guiding presence of a mother's love. It was a heartbreaking thought, one that tugged at the very fabric of my being.
Yet, amidst the swirl of emotions, a sense of frustration washed over me. Why was I allowing myself to dwell on him? I chastised myself for entertaining thoughts of someone who seemed so distant, so unattainable. And yet, the more I tried to push him from my mind, the more his presence lingered, an enigma I couldn't unravel.
With a sigh, I realized that my appetite had vanished, replaced by a gnawing emptiness that mirrored the ache in my heart. Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the cushions, the remnants of my noodles forgotten as I wrestled with the tangled web of emotions that Raghav had unwittingly stirred within me.
As guilt and anger swirled within me for breaking the photo frame, I knew that this time, Raghav deserved a genuine apology. But I also understood that earning his forgiveness wouldn't be easy. So, I sat with my chin resting on my folded hand, pondering the various ways to make amends and seek his forgiveness.
Firstly, I knew that words alone wouldn't suffice. I needed to show him through my actions that I truly regretted what had happened.
Wait !!!
As I sat contemplating how to earn Raghav's forgiveness, a realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. Utilizing my gift of a sharp memory, I vividly recalled the image of his mother. Her gentle grey eyes, reminiscent of Raghav's, yet filled with warmth and innocence, lingered in my mind. Her long brown hair, elegantly tied in a bun, framed her angelic face, adorned in a simple white dress that exuded purity and grace.
In that moment, I knew what I had to do to make amends. With a smile spreading across my face, I recognized that my talent for painting could be the key to seeking Raghav's forgiveness. While photo frames were prone to breaking, a painting could immortalize his mother's memory forever.
With determination fueling my actions, I envisioned crafting a masterpiece-a portrait capturing the essence of his mother's beauty and innocence. I imagined the painting adorning the walls of his room, serving as a timeless tribute to the woman he held dear.
With newfound purpose, I made my way to my office, eager to bring my vision to life on canvas. As I dipped my brush into vibrant hues, I hummed my favorite tune, the rhythm of creativity guiding my hand with each stroke.
It was going to be a long night.
Hey my lovely readers,
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