APRICITY [Completed] - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Rain taps heavily on my window and thunder roars in the distance. I feel tingles go down my spine, urging me to get up and peep out. I want to see if Vihaan is still standing outside. Although, the prospect is highly unlikely. Another flash of lightning strikes.
Due to my newfound fear of the dark, curtsy of my husband dearest, I keep the lights of my room on the entire night. So if I peek out and he is there, then he will be able to spot me instantly. I drink my warm tea and get cosy in a soft blanket.
I pull out a book- King of Wrath, by Ana Huang and flip through the pages to find the one where I left the last time. It's Dante and Vivian's story, which had the same start as mine and Vihaan's, with a much more complicated plot.
Dante was respectful towards Vivian even when he disliked their arrangement, contrary to Vihaan Singhania. I'm at the part where Vivian has left him, and he is now grovelling to win her back.
I think about Vihaan. Under different circumstances, I would have felt good that someone wanted me enough to put this much effort into saving our relationship. I would have run straight into his arms and told him that I wanted to give him and us another chance.
But in contrast to how Dante's apologies were sincere, Vihaan's aren't. Now my naive side is dead, and I can finally see that there was never any retribution for him.
I'm never gonna forgive him.
I'll never fall for his trap again.
I promise myself and drift to sleep.
In the morning, my curiosity gets the better of me. Before I step out of my building, where I know Vihaan will be waiting for me, I approach the security guard.
He's been on duty since last night.
"Good morning," I say, extending a warm smile to him.
I offer him tea in a disposable cup and some cookies.
"Thank you," he returns the smile gratefully.
After beating around the bush for a bit, I inquire "Did Vihaan go home last night?" while fidgeting my fingers.
I don't know why I am nervous and I don't know what answer I am expecting. Do I want to hear YES? The logical part of me, of course, does. But the hopeless side of mine is starving for the answer he gives me.
"No."
"No?" I ask in astonishment.
He shakes his head.
"No matter how hard it rained, the man didn't move from his usual spot. He sat under the tree holding a small plastic board over his head in a sorry attempt to shield himself. He only left at his usual time during dawn."
"Oh! I see," I remark, but I do not see. I do not see why Vihaan is going to such lengths. I do not understand why he would torture himself this way.
"Ma'am, do you want me to report him to the police?" The guard asks with worry emanating from his eyes.
"No," I'm quick to deny. Having him pull out our marital contract in front of the authorities is the last thing I want right now.
I walk out of the building, and I'm met with the devil himself. He is smiling at me. He's as handsome as ever, but something seems different. His nose is red, and he has a scarf around his neck. I've never seen him so...clothed.
"Good morning! You look pretty today," he says, and I notice that his voice is also more raspy like he has a cold.
As if the security guard's words weren't proof enough, these symptoms are.
I follow my routine of ignoring him and not sparing him the time of the day. He follows his routine of following me around.
Suddenly, he breaks into a fit of cough. Drinking water while coughing fits can be very dangerous, so I wait for the moment to pass before offering him my bottle. He practically snatches it from my hand and takes a few hungry gulps.
Only once he has regained some semblance of control over his senses does he register what just happened. I offered him my water bottle. This is my first act of acknowledgement towards his presence, in, like, forever.
"Thank you," he says, handing me back my bottle.
I take it without saying a word.
"So I'm not invisible to you after all."
Great! He's already boasting. I do the only thing that would cut the flower of hope blooming in his chest. As soon as I see a dustbin, I pull out the bottle and throw it away. It's just a plastic bottle, no big deal.
From my peripheral vision, I notice that he has stopped in his tracks and is trying to process what just happened. He releases an audible sigh and continues following me like a puppy. I observe that his eyes are low the entire time as if he is ashamed of something.
He should be ashamed of so many things.
The list doesn't even have an end.
"What do you mean he stayed out all night? It rained like hell," Shruti exclaims.
"I know and he looked sick today," I answer.
Her eyes soften but the worry lingers.
"Are you alright?"
"No," I admit quietly. I am not alright. I haven't been in a long while. "Should I listen to what he has to say?"
"Do you want to?" She counters.
"No. I want all of this to be over as soon as possible," I say, less for her and more for my sake. I can't let the bead of doubt penetrate my mind. That he might be genuine after all. That he might have changed.
I look at my hands. I scan the faint yet visible scars beneath my skin. He gave them to me. He made me cook for myself in a house full of servants. He kept me locked in that house like a caged animal.
And worst of all, he beat me. Not just slaps or rough manhandling. But deep rooted methods long been announced illegal and I can't even report him because of course he's Vihaan Singhania, the CEO of a multi-millionaire company.
"Then don't," Shruti's words pull me out of my revelry.
I won't. He doesn't deserve it. I repeat the words over and over in my mind until they cement themselves there.
In the evening, Vihaan has an overcoat draped on his shoulders. He has not noticed me yet, but I have been observing him for the past 5 minutes. He is shivering. No kidding. His teeth are chattering, and even with the hot cup of tea in his hands, they are trembling.
Wait! When did he start drinking tea?
I stride in the direction of my apartment, hoping to God that he will see me and follow. Don't ask why. Even I don't have the answer to that question. After a few minutes, as the footfall around me decreases, I hear the familiar tap and rhythm of Vihaan's shoes behind me.
He falls into step with me. I dare a look at his face, and I wish I hadn't. I stop dead in my tracks. My hand reaches his forehead on reflex. He is burning. I place the back of my palm on his neck and check his wrist with the other.
"You have a fever," I exclaim.
"I know," he whispers.
He looks like he's barely standing and would fall down any second.
"I'm fine," he says.
"Go home, Vihaan. You clearly need rest," I try to put some sense into him.
"My home is where you are," he says.
I snort.
"We both know that's not true."
He shakes his head.
"The building that you're calling home is just like a hotel for me. To provide me with food, a space to keep my things, and a roof for me to have my 2 hours of precious sleep every day. But you baby, you're my home," he says, giving me a sad smile.
My heart clenches. My insides explode, but I don't let it show on my face. On the outside, I simply roll my eyes and continue walking.
When we reach my apartment, I inspect his state. It's gonna rain again tonight. I exhale and turn to convince him to go find shelter when I find his eyelids drooping. He's leaning against a wall, trying to stay upright.
He takes his head between his palms and squeezes them, trying to get rid of a bad headache.
"Vihaan," I call.
He doesn't answer. Doesn't even look at me.
"Vihaan," I call again, this time slowly approaching him.
That's when his body gives out.