Chapter 133 - I've Physical Scars Too...

|| Innaya ||

We returned from Dr. Mittal's home after spending almost two hours at his place. He was so kind-hearted that he did not let us leave without having the dinner at the place. Despite my protests, and telling him that we just had our late lunch, he insisted. Giving in to his insistence, we ended up having our dinner. He had told many things and in the end, he even referred me to the gynecologist.

When we left his place, Eshan wanted to take me to the gynecologist, but I refused him. I'd just been to the hospital when Karan kidnapped me. I didn't want to be in that zone again. Eshan agreed. I knew it was not for very long. He would soon insist on visiting her. The tablets, tonics, prescribed by Dr. Mittal were not enough for him.

I sighed as I stared at the stars in the sky. Holding the cold railings under my palms, I thought about the past couple of days and things that had happened so far. My peaceful life once again had been thrown into chaos, and I didn't know why. I could only deal with it. However, when I thought about what Eshan had gone through because of me, I could not help but get sad. He did not deserve it, yet he got pulled into it.  

"What are you thinking about?" Eshan's voice trailed in the otherwise silent night before pair of hands encircled me from behind, his warm breath tickling my neck. I leaned back in the warmth of his body, sighing contently.

'Shall I ask him? Maybe yes or maybe no. Argh!' 

Until I try it, how would I know the consequences? But, what if things went south again? There, there was that doubt again. The possibility, that what I was thinking to ask him regarding my past would create misunderstanding again. What was I to do then? There were some things that I had not told him yesterday. It was not intentional. I actually forgot about it after recalling so many things.

I should have asked him about it. It was not that late now, too. Maybe, I should ask him. In the afternoon, things got clear when I asked about it. Maybe, I should give it try and ask him.

"Doesn't my PTSD bother you?"

There, I asked it. The question, that bothered me for very long. Had it been earlier Innaya, she would not have dared, but surprisingly I longed to know, not dwelling about the answers I could get. 

He nuzzled his head in the crook of my neck.

What was he doing? Instead of 'yes' or 'no'- or the anger as I was expecting, he seemed pretty calm and collected. Stiffening of his body or sudden withdrawal from me or even reprimanding for asking such a question— nothing. He actually did not react for a good amount of time. 

Maybe he did not hear, but I asked the question, didn't I?

Eshan slowly spun me around in his arms. Pushing me against the railing, he placed his hands on both sides of me, effectively trapping me, not that I was running away. The cold air nipped at my bare skin, and through the pajamas, I wore I shivered. 

'Who stands outside at midnight?' My sane mind taunted, but then again I do. I have always enjoyed or rather found comfort in the brume. The outer fog helped me to forget the one inside me. I shivered as cool metal pressed against my clothed back. The heat radiating from his body and the chilliness of the growing night was stark contrasting. I found myself seeking his warmth rather than the cold I have always preferred. 

Inching closer, I wrapped my arms around him, desperately hoping he would say something rather than looking at me with those dark eyes. As if he knew exactly what was running in my head or in my heart for that matter. 

'That's not possible, is it?'

Eshan spun us again, and now it was he, who leaned against the railing and I was leaning on him or in him. Earlier, I had not noticed, but as I now pressed my head against his strong chest, I felt the soft fabric of his blue pullover. Soft and warm, both at the same time and needless to say, the blue fabric that sat snug on his upper half, complimented him in a rather enticing manner.

"Why do you ask so?"

'Oh, so he heard. Why take so long?' The silence was the only answer he got from me. I had my share of insecurities and this was one of them. Fear of Eshan being tired of me, tired of being there for me in my hard times. I shrugged. 

His fingers slowly worked on the braid I had made and opened my hair. The dark traces provided more warmth as they covered my whole back. His love, adoration, admiration towards my hair was something I found amusing. It appeared to me that playing with them was his favorite hobby. He ran his long fingers through them, sometimes caressing, sometimes lifting them, or sometimes simply feeling them. 

"Does it bother you?" He softly inquired.

'It does.' I wanted to reply but I couldn't. Closing my eyes seemed a better option and I did. The storm of emotions in his eyes always unsettled me and the unconditional love in them could calm any distress I have. Finding that love in the pool of molten honey was never difficult, and the intensity sometimes scared me. How could he love me with such abundance and that too for so long? 

The pad of his finger softly caressed my cheek, his palm cupping almost half of my face.

"No. Neither your past bothers me nor does your, PTSD."

The declaration was not sudden. It was done after taking the owner's precious time, and somewhere for a fleeting moment, this thought warmed my insides. His instant denial would not have made me this happy. Yet there was a flicker of doubt lingering in the back of my mind. Why wouldn't it bother him?

"Why?" I tugged at the fabric slightly before tucking my head under his chin. His long fingers never ceased the caressing. 

"Why it should?"

Because I am damaged, and you could do a lot better without my baggage or me?  

"Just because you have— emotional scars?" he answered his own question with another one.

"I have physical scar too," I blurted out in low tone before I could stop myself. The damage was done without me even realizing it. 

*

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