"Ehsaas" means "feelings," and that's what you'll get with every page of these Indian stories.
A country where golden sunsets kiss the land and temple bells whisper melodies. This ain't just a story, it's a whole lotta love, packed in bite-sized tal...
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Meera's Pov
Virat's silent sob echoed in the room a s he spoke of her and with each word the image of a perfect elder sister shattered before my eyes. Growing up, I'd always aspired to follow in her footsteps. But if this was her reality, then being like her wasn't something I ever wanted.
I looked at Virat. He was sitting on his knees, face hiding in his palms. Tears streamed down his fingers, splashing onto the floor. It felt like something inside him had shattered that night, and all these months he'd been trying to pick up the pieces. But today, whatever fragile hope he'd managed to rebuild crumbled once again.
"Meera," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, "I never hit her. I could never do that. I accepted that she loved somebody else and I never forced myself on her. All I wanted was a divorce and that one thing ruined my life. From being a reputed neurosurgeon I became a wife beater, a psychopath. "
Virat tilted his head and looked at me, "I never gave her those wounds, it was him; the man she loved. I begged her to leave him but she didn't listen. She was so blinded by his love that she couldn't seem to see the scars he had given her."
Now I understood why he never entered our bedroom, why he always maintained a certain distance from me, and why my hug made him uncomfortable. My sister's words had wounded him deeply.
I had never seen him like this. He always seemed so strong who would know that the man who saves the lives of others couldn't save his own crumbled world?
I sat before him. My gaze fixed on his face. I wanted to comfort him but I couldn't find the right words in me that could take his pain away.
"Virat," I said softly, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. His eyes were filled with pain as he looked up at me, silently pleading for understanding.
I cupped his face in between my palms and rested my head on his. His expression softened, it felt as if he understood that I trusted him. I pulled him into a hug. He flinched at my touch but didn't pull away. I held him tightly as he let out all the pain and anguish he'd been carrying for so long.
Sometimes you don't need words to communicate, a simple hug can say it all.
His grip tightened around me. I could feel his breath on my neck, his silent tears making the fabric of my blouse wet. My hands rubbed the back of his shirt and all I could think of was the scar that was hidden beneath that white fabric.
The scar that she had given him.
We sat on that cold marble floor for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort in the silence.
His sobs gradually subsided into quiet sniffles. His body relaxed against mine, the tension melting away as if he had finally found a safe place.
He pulled himself back and leaned his head on my shoulder. We sat there in silence for some time.
Suddenly, I noticed the phone I had taken from the library. I picked it up and handed it to Virat.
"I stole it from the library. I've seen those pictures..." He glanced at me before turning his gaze back to the phone.
A sigh escaped his lips and he began speaking, "She wasn't ready for the divorce. Every attempt I made to convince her resulted in demands. Money, property...and If I didn't agree, she threatened to file false charges against me, jeopardizing my reputation. I could lose my job, my dignity... everything. This phone was the only concrete evidence I had against her, which finally persuaded her to sign the divorce papers. And I thought I was finally free from that marriage, but I was wrong. She had already done enough damage to me and my family."
Another revelation about my beloved sister left me feeling as though I had never truly known her. Never before had I imagined that Heer could be capable of such actions. I feel ashamed to have called her my sister.
Who would have thought that men could also be victims of abuse in marriage? Yet here I am, sitting beside a man who endured not only emotional and physical abuse in his marriage but also the societal stigma that accompanies it. How readily we accept one perspective without considering others.
He was blankly looking at the floor; it seemed like there were no emotions left in him.
A feeling of guilt washed over me. I too have blamed him, slapped him, and cursed him.
"Thank you, Meera," he murmured, his words tinged with gratitude and vulnerability.
Thank you?
To me?
I looked at him with disbelief. He turned in my direction.
"Thank you... for listening."
Listening. That's it?
His words made me hate myself.
If in future by any chance I met my sister, I'd ask her.
Heer, How could you let this guy suffer?
How could you hate him?
How could you not fall for him?
And in that moment, I made a silent vow to stand by him, to help him navigate through the wreckage of his past and find a way to rebuild his shattered life.
✧
In the days that followed, Virat slowly began to open up to me, sharing the painful details of that marriage and the emotional scars it had left behind. Together, we sought therapy to help him process his trauma and heal from the wounds that ran deep.
He is making progress now. While our relationship may not resemble that of a typical husband and wife, we are making an effort.
He supports me in pursuing my dreams, and as for me... Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing to improve his life. Yet, he treats me as though I am the greatest blessing he's ever received.
