"Why? Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" he pleaded with her.
She looked at him confused. "No, nothing is," she said, feeling as if he were assaulting her with that tone of his voice - an urgent demand, a persistent plea that wanted to grab her heart and open it violently. She felt her heart trembling and shrinking. "Don't imagine things," she said and turned away to continue pretending that everything was as should be.
She was avoiding his eyes. She spoke to him only to keep up the pretense of normalcy. But of things that mattered, her joys and fears, she clamped up. Why?
It was hard even for her to pinpoint the real reason. And yet, she remembered the moment when his one comment had been like an arrow piercing her heart. It had broken something delicate, something that would linger even after the pain faded.
What was it about that comment, flung carelessly and scathingly? Pointing to a weakness that she knew she had but got by in life without worrying too much about it. He had thrown the spotlight on it, and all her waking hours were spent analysing that one, trivial flaw that filled her mind now!
She could tell him that, but however much she softened her words, whatever the gentle reproach she turned towards him would only cause him to feel hurt and withdraw.
Words... She thought about them. They could be hard as rocks or gentle as flowers. Rocks may not hurt where unseen thorns in the flowers may prick. She didn't want him hurt, just step back a bit to let her recover, breathe freely, forget what he had said. Had he even realised that in making that disparaging statement punctuated with 'you women', he had displayed some arrogance, some male chauvinism, some sexist bias?
It was just a statement thrown in a fit of anger. Did he know he was throwing a stone at her? Or, was it meant to fall into a lake, sinking beyond sight, but had instead sunk like a dagger in her heart?
Words. Casual, thoughtless, becoming a burden for the person who caught them. Drop them, she told herself. Drop them!
But they seemed to grow tentacles and wrap around her, refusing to let go, raking up old innocent statements that she had never bothered about but now seemed tinged with other unpleasant hues.
Her body tensed as he moved around behind her in the bedroom. She was going to be subjected to the ultimate test for normalcy, she realised. She got up and went to the bathroom and took her time coming out. He was still up, his elaborately innocent manner belying subterfuge that was very apparent to her.
She picked up a book and went to the drawing room. He followed. "Isn't it too late?" he asked.
She looked up at him feigning innocence. "Late for what? It's still too early..."
But a laughter bubbled inside her. She felt the prolonged pretense farcical and her anger melted on the face of his childlike persistence.
Sometimes, words couldn't express what one felt truly. It was in their absence that the feelings became real.
"Why are you grinning?" he asked, his own face wreathed in a smile.
"At us," she said and laughed. She felt so relaxed, as the vice-like grip on her heart vanished just as abruptly. "Why are you not with your phone?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
He sat next to her, and she felt her blood quicken. His love further warmed her as she melted in his arms, letting the silent melding of their bodies speak volumes for what they rarely expressed.
Next morning, his update on Facebook made her shake her head.
"Dad, I want to get married." "First say sorry," and on it went, a stupid joke that had been done to death and yet tickled the men silly.
"You never did, you know," she pointed out to him.
"Never did what?" he asked puzzled.
She pointed at his post. "Say sorry..."
"I don't know my guilt," he shrugged.
She just smiled, letting silence drop again, a more genial kind though. His frown in response amused her.
Sometimes, absence of words were like boulders too... Pressing down even harder than words themselves, for silence could mean anything.
"Women!" he said and she surprised even herself by laughing. Yesterday, this would have been like twisting a knife in a wound. Today, it felt like a tantrum of a child.
Yesterday, her silence was mere anger. Today, as she watched him frowning in puzzlement, it felt like power.
She looked at him confused. "No, nothing is," she said, feeling as if he were assaulting her with that tone of his voice - an urgent demand, a persistent plea that wanted to grab her heart and open it violently. She felt her heart trembling and shrinking. "Don't imagine things," she said and turned away to continue pretending that everything was as should be.
She was avoiding his eyes. She spoke to him only to keep up the pretense of normalcy. But of things that mattered, her joys and fears, she clamped up. Why?
It was hard even for her to pinpoint the real reason. And yet, she remembered the moment when his one comment had been like an arrow piercing her heart. It had broken something delicate, something that would linger even after the pain faded.
What was it about that comment, flung carelessly and scathingly? Pointing to a weakness that she knew she had but got by in life without worrying too much about it. He had thrown the spotlight on it, and all her waking hours were spent analysing that one, trivial flaw that filled her mind now!
She could tell him that, but however much she softened her words, whatever the gentle reproach she turned towards him would only cause him to feel hurt and withdraw.
Words... She thought about them. They could be hard as rocks or gentle as flowers. Rocks may not hurt where unseen thorns in the flowers may prick. She didn't want him hurt, just step back a bit to let her recover, breathe freely, forget what he had said. Had he even realised that in making that disparaging statement punctuated with 'you women', he had displayed some arrogance, some male chauvinism, some sexist bias?
It was just a statement thrown in a fit of anger. Did he know he was throwing a stone at her? Or, was it meant to fall into a lake, sinking beyond sight, but had instead sunk like a dagger in her heart?
Words. Casual, thoughtless, becoming a burden for the person who caught them. Drop them, she told herself. Drop them!
But they seemed to grow tentacles and wrap around her, refusing to let go, raking up old innocent statements that she had never bothered about but now seemed tinged with other unpleasant hues.
Her body tensed as he moved around behind her in the bedroom. She was going to be subjected to the ultimate test for normalcy, she realised. She got up and went to the bathroom and took her time coming out. He was still up, his elaborately innocent manner belying subterfuge that was very apparent to her.
She picked up a book and went to the drawing room. He followed. "Isn't it too late?" he asked.
She looked up at him feigning innocence. "Late for what? It's still too early..."
But a laughter bubbled inside her. She felt the prolonged pretense farcical and her anger melted on the face of his childlike persistence.
Sometimes, words couldn't express what one felt truly. It was in their absence that the feelings became real.
"Why are you grinning?" he asked, his own face wreathed in a smile.
"At us," she said and laughed. She felt so relaxed, as the vice-like grip on her heart vanished just as abruptly. "Why are you not with your phone?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
He sat next to her, and she felt her blood quicken. His love further warmed her as she melted in his arms, letting the silent melding of their bodies speak volumes for what they rarely expressed.
Next morning, his update on Facebook made her shake her head.
"Dad, I want to get married." "First say sorry," and on it went, a stupid joke that had been done to death and yet tickled the men silly.
"You never did, you know," she pointed out to him.
"Never did what?" he asked puzzled.
She pointed at his post. "Say sorry..."
"I don't know my guilt," he shrugged.
She just smiled, letting silence drop again, a more genial kind though. His frown in response amused her.
Sometimes, absence of words were like boulders too... Pressing down even harder than words themselves, for silence could mean anything.
"Women!" he said and she surprised even herself by laughing. Yesterday, this would have been like twisting a knife in a wound. Today, it felt like a tantrum of a child.
Yesterday, her silence was mere anger. Today, as she watched him frowning in puzzlement, it felt like power.
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