๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ.
Shubman POV:
The soft hum of the plane's engines created a steady backdrop as I rested my head against the seat, my eyes fixed on the clouds outside. They floated past like silent reminders of how distant I felt-distant from myself, from my emotions, and most of all, from Akshara.
My fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, a restless habit I had picked up over the years, though my mind was anything but restless.
It was caught in a loop, circling back to the same woman who now sat just a few rows ahead. Akshara. The name lingered on the edges of my mind, soft yet persistent, like a half-forgotten melody.
She was seated next to Shahneel Di and from my vantage point, I could see her faint profile. Her posture was calm, poised, and deliberate, as if she carried the weight of the world but refused to let anyone see her struggle.
Di was talking animatedly beside her, her hands moving expressively, but Akshara responded only with brief smiles and occasional nods, as though her mind was somewhere else entirely.
And wasn't that the truth? I thought bitterly. Akshara was somewhere else. Somewhere far away from me, even when she was right there.
The problem wasn't her. I know that. She had done everything possible to bridge the chasm between us. She had shown patience, kindness, and an almost frustrating willingness to engage with me, even when I gave her little sorry nothing in return.
She'd accompanied me on this trip at Di's insistence, despite knowing it would only serve as a reminder of the distance between us.
And yet, I had done nothing but push her further away.
My gaze dropped to the tray table in front of me, my fingers tracing an invisible line. I thought about the final match-the roaring crowd, the ecstatic victory, the celebrations. For most, it had been a day of pure joy. But for me, the high of the win had been accompanied by a nagging weight in my chest, an awareness of Akshara's watchful eyes.
I know she had been there, cheering quietly from the stands, sitting with Di and Prarthana. I have seen her when I had glanced up after one of my boundaries, her expression proud but reserved, as though she didn't know whether her excitement would be welcome.
It wasn't fair, I thought. She deserved more than this, more than me.
I shifted in my seat, leaning forward slightly and resting my elbows on my knees. I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
This was supposed to work, wasn't it? That's what Maa had said when she'd brought up the idea of the engagement. She'd assured me that Akshara was the perfect match, that she came from a good family, that she was everything I needed in a partner.
But love wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to feel like a quiet ache in your chest every time you looked at someone who deserved the world, knowing you couldn't give it to them.
My thoughts drifted to Prarthana and Devdutt. I had watched them during the trip, their ease with one another, the way Devdutt's hand would instinctively find Prarthana's, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Their relationship was a blend of friendship and love, built on mutual respect and understanding.
I envied that. I envied how simple it seemed for them, how effortlessly they connected. I had caught Akshara watching them too, her expression soft and wistful. It had been another reminder of what she must want, what she must need, and how far I am from giving it to her.
I sighed deeply, closing my eyes for a moment. The truth is, I don't know how to give her what she needed. The past loomed too large in my mind, casting long shadows over every step I tried to take.
My last relationship had left scars I wasn't sure would ever fade. The woman I had once loved had broken me in ways I never anticipated, leaving me wary and guarded.
Letting someone in again felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that one wrong step could send me plummeting.
Akshara deserved better than that. She deserved someone who could meet her halfway, someone who could see the effort she was making and return it in kind.
But every time I tried, every time I thought about breaking through the walls I had built around myself, my fears pulled me back. What if I let myself care, only to lose her? What if I am not enough?
I opened my eyes and looked forward again. Di was now laughing, her voice carrying faintly over the low hum of the engines. Akshara smiled at her, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The plane jolted slightly as it began its descent, and I tightened my grip on the armrest. I know what I was doing to her. I could see it in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly when she thought no one was looking.
I could hear it in the polite, measured tone she used when speaking to me, as though she was afraid to push too hard, to ask too much.
She was trying. And I am failing her.
As the plane touched down, I felt a wave of guilt settle over me. I had always thought of myself as someone who rose to challenges, someone who faced adversity head-on. But here I am running from the one challenge that mattered most.
I watched as Akshara stood to retrieve her bag, her movements smooth and deliberate. Di chattered beside her, oblivious to the turmoil just a few rows back. Akshara didn't glance my way, and I didn't blame her.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair again. I didn't know what the future held, didn't know if I could ever be the man Akshara needed me to be.
But as I watched her walk down the aisle, her back straight despite the weight I know she carried, one thought lingered in my mind.
If I don't do something soon, I'll lose her.
And the truth was, I am not sure I could live with that.
I walked through the airport terminal with my bag slung over my shoulder, the hum of conversations and rolling suitcases filling the space.
Akshara walked a few steps ahead with Di, her head tilted slightly toward Di as they spoke.
From the outside, they appeared like two old friends chatting casually, but my gaze lingered on Akshara's profile longer than I intended.
Something was different about today. Maybe it was the restless hours I had spent on the plane, my thoughts circling her.
Maybe it was the memory of her quiet smiles, which never quite reached her eyes. Or maybe it was just the realization I had been avoiding for month, I don't want to lose her.
My steps slowed, and I stopped in the middle of the terminal. For a moment, I felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do. The weight of my past still tugged at me, whispering fears of heartbreak and loss, but another part of me-the part that couldn't stop thinking about Akshara-was louder now.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and took a deep breath. Enough. It is time to stop running.
"Di," I called out, my voice firm but calm. Both women turned to look at me. Di raised an eyebrow, curious about the sudden interruption, but my eyes were on Akshara.
"Can I borrow Akshara for a minute?"
The soft hum of the plane's engines created a steady backdrop as I rested my head against the seat, my eyes fixed on the clouds outside. They floated past like silent reminders of how distant I felt-distant from myself, from my emotions, and most of all, from Akshara.
My fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, a restless habit I had picked up over the years, though my mind was anything but restless.
It was caught in a loop, circling back to the same woman who now sat just a few rows ahead. Akshara. The name lingered on the edges of my mind, soft yet persistent, like a half-forgotten melody.
She was seated next to Shahneel Di and from my vantage point, I could see her faint profile. Her posture was calm, poised, and deliberate, as if she carried the weight of the world but refused to let anyone see her struggle.
Di was talking animatedly beside her, her hands moving expressively, but Akshara responded only with brief smiles and occasional nods, as though her mind was somewhere else entirely.
And wasn't that the truth? I thought bitterly. Akshara was somewhere else. Somewhere far away from me, even when she was right there.
The problem wasn't her. I know that. She had done everything possible to bridge the chasm between us. She had shown patience, kindness, and an almost frustrating willingness to engage with me, even when I gave her little sorry nothing in return.
She'd accompanied me on this trip at Di's insistence, despite knowing it would only serve as a reminder of the distance between us.
And yet, I had done nothing but push her further away.
My gaze dropped to the tray table in front of me, my fingers tracing an invisible line. I thought about the final match-the roaring crowd, the ecstatic victory, the celebrations. For most, it had been a day of pure joy. But for me, the high of the win had been accompanied by a nagging weight in my chest, an awareness of Akshara's watchful eyes.
I know she had been there, cheering quietly from the stands, sitting with Di and Prarthana. I have seen her when I had glanced up after one of my boundaries, her expression proud but reserved, as though she didn't know whether her excitement would be welcome.
It wasn't fair, I thought. She deserved more than this, more than me.
I shifted in my seat, leaning forward slightly and resting my elbows on my knees. I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
This was supposed to work, wasn't it? That's what Maa had said when she'd brought up the idea of the engagement. She'd assured me that Akshara was the perfect match, that she came from a good family, that she was everything I needed in a partner.
But love wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to feel like a quiet ache in your chest every time you looked at someone who deserved the world, knowing you couldn't give it to them.
My thoughts drifted to Prarthana and Devdutt. I had watched them during the trip, their ease with one another, the way Devdutt's hand would instinctively find Prarthana's, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Their relationship was a blend of friendship and love, built on mutual respect and understanding.
I envied that. I envied how simple it seemed for them, how effortlessly they connected. I had caught Akshara watching them too, her expression soft and wistful. It had been another reminder of what she must want, what she must need, and how far I am from giving it to her.
I sighed deeply, closing my eyes for a moment. The truth is, I don't know how to give her what she needed. The past loomed too large in my mind, casting long shadows over every step I tried to take.
My last relationship had left scars I wasn't sure would ever fade. The woman I had once loved had broken me in ways I never anticipated, leaving me wary and guarded.
Letting someone in again felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that one wrong step could send me plummeting.
Akshara deserved better than that. She deserved someone who could meet her halfway, someone who could see the effort she was making and return it in kind.
But every time I tried, every time I thought about breaking through the walls I had built around myself, my fears pulled me back. What if I let myself care, only to lose her? What if I am not enough?
I opened my eyes and looked forward again. Di was now laughing, her voice carrying faintly over the low hum of the engines. Akshara smiled at her, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The plane jolted slightly as it began its descent, and I tightened my grip on the armrest. I know what I was doing to her. I could see it in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly when she thought no one was looking.
I could hear it in the polite, measured tone she used when speaking to me, as though she was afraid to push too hard, to ask too much.
She was trying. And I am failing her.
As the plane touched down, I felt a wave of guilt settle over me. I had always thought of myself as someone who rose to challenges, someone who faced adversity head-on. But here I am running from the one challenge that mattered most.
I watched as Akshara stood to retrieve her bag, her movements smooth and deliberate. Di chattered beside her, oblivious to the turmoil just a few rows back. Akshara didn't glance my way, and I didn't blame her.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair again. I didn't know what the future held, didn't know if I could ever be the man Akshara needed me to be.
But as I watched her walk down the aisle, her back straight despite the weight I know she carried, one thought lingered in my mind.
If I don't do something soon, I'll lose her.
And the truth was, I am not sure I could live with that.
I walked through the airport terminal with my bag slung over my shoulder, the hum of conversations and rolling suitcases filling the space.
Akshara walked a few steps ahead with Di, her head tilted slightly toward Di as they spoke.
From the outside, they appeared like two old friends chatting casually, but my gaze lingered on Akshara's profile longer than I intended.
Something was different about today. Maybe it was the restless hours I had spent on the plane, my thoughts circling her.
Maybe it was the memory of her quiet smiles, which never quite reached her eyes. Or maybe it was just the realization I had been avoiding for month, I don't want to lose her.
My steps slowed, and I stopped in the middle of the terminal. For a moment, I felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do. The weight of my past still tugged at me, whispering fears of heartbreak and loss, but another part of me-the part that couldn't stop thinking about Akshara-was louder now.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and took a deep breath. Enough. It is time to stop running.
"Di," I called out, my voice firm but calm. Both women turned to look at me. Di raised an eyebrow, curious about the sudden interruption, but my eyes were on Akshara.
"Can I borrow Akshara for a minute?"
End of ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐จ๐จ๐ซ book page.