He was her saviour,
She was his strength.
♡ Mira Rathore ♡
After facing twenty-five years of abuse from her own family, Mira got bitter toward emotional ties. To her, it was an illusion.
Her entire life was trapped in darkness and her pasts still h...
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"I- I... Someone had t-tried to r-rape me four years ago, Siddharth."
Every fiber of my being screamed with the echoes of my past traumas, the scars etched into my soul and body now laid bare in front of Siddharth.
All those memories which I suppressed for so many years laid open. I shivered remembering that day.
Why do such things have to happen to me?
Why am I still unable to get over those nightmares?
Why does he have to return back when I was actually living happily with the love of my life?
The weight of my past pressed on my shoulders as I stood there while desperately wanting to run into Siddharth's arms and release the flood of tears building up inside me but my heart throbbed with insecurities.
How would he look at me now?
He had said that I didn't trust him – did he truly feel that way?
Had I unintentionally destroyed everything we had built together?
The burden of these questions increased and more tears welled up in my eyes.
The fear nibbled me – what if he would regret marrying me?
What if the scars I carried were too much for him to bear?
Few steps approached me but I took steps backward, shaking my head in desperation.
More tears sprung in the back of my eyes.
Despair clutched at me and my words spilled out, "P-please, no," I pleaded, my voice trembling.
I couldn't think straight. I wanted to scream and run away from the consuming emotions that were threatening to drown me.
More tears welled up, menacing to overflow.
Siddharth tried to reach out to touch my arms but I flinched and rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Sobs wracked my body as I sank onto the floor and finally let the full flood of my tears flow.
'Do you even trust me enough?' The words echoed in my head like a taunt, as did the image of Siddharth's face.
The agony in his eyes. The torment in his voice. The brokenness that I felt as surely as if it were my own because it was.
My heart had splintered into a thousand jagged pieces, and they cut and cut until I couldn't stop bleeding.
It was very possible I might die right there, with my knees drawn to my chest and my pain in shambles.
Siddharth knocked on the door but I didn't answer him. I didn't want to. What would he ask me now?
