Anguish & Affection

Part 6

The air between them thickened as Atharv Singh Chauhan felt his bonds to the log loosen like a noose. The calm that washed over him extinguished the smoldering rage of countless years of betrayal, each second seeming like an eternity. He could almost feel the anguish evaporating into the misty night, leaving behind the remnants of a distant past.

His salvation shimmered before him like a distant mirage, luring him to surrender to its sweet void. But the illusion was quickly broken by a sheet of ice that encased his broken dreams. His lungs burned and pain surged through his veins as he thought of his deceased parents, memories restraining him with invisible shackles that tightened their grip around his throat.

Atharv felt the rage and guilt surging through him like wildfire, consuming every part of his being with an inescapable agony. His eyes brimmed with tears as he collapsed onto his knees outside the mortuary, screaming a gut-wrenching "Why?!" that shook the very foundations of the building. Aditi, his inconsolable elder sister, moved to Atharv's side and tried desperately to muffle her own sobs as she clutched him to her chest in a protective embrace.

The dingy and claustrophobic corridor to the mortuary, lit faintly by a flickering light bulb, was witness to unutterable despair. Its bare walls were coated with sticky mold whose paint peeled off in patches, exuding a suffocating smell that curdled the stomach. The air of sorrowful resignation in the hallway was almost palpable.

"They looked so ashen. They didn't look like Maa and Papa, Di! That gunshot wound....."

Atharv remembered the lifeless figures, their once vibrant eyes now dull and sunken. His heart clamped in his chest like a vise grasping for air and despite his shaking frame he stepped forward towards the figures of his parents, their last expressions of terror still embedded on their faces. The gunshot wound that had taken them from this world left no mercy to the living, its cold echo ringing in Atharv's ears like a siren song. Tears streaming down his face he felt a convulsion deep within him as his trembling hands clenched into fists, knuckles stark white with rage. He crumpled to his knees, biting into his lower lip until the metallic taste of blood soothed the bitter taste of betrayal that had seeped into every crevice of his existence.

Aditi, sniffling, reached into her back pocket and withdrew her ringing phone. She recognized the tone as belonging to her Uncle Suresh. "It's him," she said softly before answering the call.

Atharv scrambled to his feet in shock, his face creased with worry and his lips parted. His heart thudded as he watched his sister's eyes fill with tears once more. She hung up the phone after mumbling her polite thanks.

He put his hand on her slumped shoulder and asked, "What's wrong, Di?"

"We've lost our stocks, everything. It's all in the Shekhawats' hands now."

His heart felt like a void, as his best friend and her entire family had disappeared without a trace overnight. He was overwhelmed by a sense of dread as he stood before the heavy metal entrance of the morgue, staring blankly at the polished steel surface, while his sister's body quaked with pain against his chest. Every moment brought clarity to the invisible line that linked the pieces of this dismal puzzle.

Rage burst forth, replacing sorrow with all-consuming fury. Ardor had been snuffed out and replaced by a hate-filled inferno. Love had become an unrelenting war, where rage and hatred were the only weapons in play.

She stared into his eyes, willing him to feel the weight of her reprimand. Tears brimmed in her eyes, like a deep sea of sorrow and disappointment. The burning sting of chlorine in the air was barely noticeable amidst the emotional pain that she felt. Her voice quavered as she questioned him, "Why did you change so much Atharv? You aren't anything like I remember you to be."

Atharv glared at her, the flames of anger and resentment blazing in his cold eyes. "Do you not know the reason or does your whole family hold a degree in acting and manipulate?" he spat with contempt. Every ounce of warmth had been extinguished from his voice as the painful memories flooded back, pushing away any remnant of solace he had found in her arms - leaving only a burning bitterness behind.

"Good heavens, Atharv! I have no idea what you are talking about. Yes, I departed without saying a proper farewell, but surely that is not why you did this!"

Atharv stared into her eyes, searching for a hint of guilt or deception. He studied every movement, every expression, trying to gauge if she was being honest and truly unware of the conflict or if she was just attempting to dodge responsibility. The tension between them was quickly escalating, but it wasn't the only conflict present. As Atharv looked deeper he realized that his own heart and mind were in disagreement over what should be done, a struggle he had forgotten since his parents had passed away.

He climbed out of the pool without saying a word, and waited for Diya to do the same. He noticed that her dress had become so heavy with water it was difficult for her to lift herself up from the surface of the pool. Reaching out his arm, he tried to help her keep her balance on the slippery tiles.

Atharv grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, his words causing her eyes to widen with shock. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she muttered "shameless" under her breath, although still loud enough for him to pick up. "It's not like you haven't seen it all before," he said, "so come on out or you'll freeze."

"Is that why you used to run around without any clothes on when you were five?" he taunted her, trying to make her feel more embarrassed. She closed her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her up and save her from further shame. "Stop it! All kids do that; it's not like that anymore, so stop talking about it!"

Diya glowered at him, wishing he would stop. She could feel his amusement coming through the cracks in his emotional armor. Her flushed face and frantic fidgeting was alluring to him and, for a moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He inched closer to her with his mouth almost brushing her ear and snaked his arm around her waist so she couldn't escape.

"Oh, so you've kicked that habit, Diya?" He shivered in delight at the sensation of her breathing against the spot where his neck met his shoulder. The combination of adult passion and childhood mischief had transported him back in time to more pleasant memories.

He swept her up into his arms, and she was too stunned to do anything other than widen her eyes. She tried unsuccessfully to tug down her dress while making half-hearted attempts at freeing herself from his embrace. As he touched her bare skin, a combination of fear and excitement coursed through her veins. In that moment, it almost felt like home.

Diya felt a mixture of emotions amidst the teasing, ignited by memories of Atharv that clashed abruptly with the intent of his actions. As she grappled to make sense out of what was happening, she was overwhelmed with confusion and uncertainty.

He laid her down on the bed, bringing her out of her dream world.

"Time to get ready for bed," he said, his face almost touching hers as he looked into her pained eyes.

Without a second thought he turned away and left the room. His conscience ached with the memory of her tears and the strange connection he'd felt all evening. He clenched his fist tightly, feeling his nails dig into his skin, but he did not even flinch.

"Sujith Singh Shekhawat, I will have my vengeance - whatever the cost! You have broken my family to pieces and killed my beloved parents with your treachery. And you've broken Diya's spirit in the process. Until I avenge them all, not even death can provide me solace!" His voice resounded like a thunderclap as he swore, his eyes blazing with fury as they riveted on the family portrait hanging before him. In the background, he heard his heart shattering at Diya's desperate sobs from beyond the door but he pushed it away, determined to act upon his vow.

He wished he could turn a deaf ear, but like a symphony of grief her cries pierced the walls and seeped through his skin. The muffled sobs of agony echoed in his head, agonizingly reminding him that the pain was his own—a despairing reminder that no door nor anger could stop his heart from trembling with the sorrow of its rightful owner.