Finding the Lost Souls (Watty 2018)

5. HIS SWEET GESTURE

Raman slipped his pen back into his pocket after signing the final payment cheque, his eyes scanning the party hall one last time. Everything was in order, cleaned and arranged to perfection. With the evening wrapped up, it was time to call it a night.

"Mihir, be at the office by 9 tomorrow. We need to go over the project details."

Mihir raised an eyebrow. "Raman, seriously? You just got married yesterday, and you're already talking about work. Spend some time with her, man."

Raman rolled his eyes, mimicking Mihir's words with mock irritation. "And you should stop singing that tune on repeat."

He nodded politely at a few staff members escorting him to the main gate. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere. Tonight, I'll clear everything with her. It's better to address the issues now before they get out of hand.

Just as he signaled for the valet, his gaze shifted toward his parents being helped into another car by their friends, tipsy from the evening's celebrations. He sighed, gesturing for the driver to ensure they got home safely.

But then a new concern gnawed at him-his wife. Ishita. He hadn't seen her since dinner. She'd been missing for two hours now, and while he wanted to maintain his usual indifference, a nagging worry surfaced. Delhi isn't safe for women this late. His mind raced until Mihir's conversation with someone caught his attention.

"Yeah, Romi, thanks for dropping Bhabhi and Mihika. See you tomorrow."

Raman's eyes snapped to Mihir. "Where's Romi?"

"Oh, he dropped Bhabhi and Mihika home. Ishita wasn't feeling well, so he took her back first."

"I didn't ask for a report," Raman replied curtly, his expression unreadable.

Mihir shrugged. "Fine. Let me know what files you need tomorrow."

Raman gave a noncommittal nod, watching Mihir exit the car at his apartment before heading home himself. His thoughts remained on Ishita. By the time he parked and entered their room, he was determined to have a conversation with her.

It's better to be clear than to let things fester.

He pushed the door open, ready to talk-only to find her fast asleep again, just like the previous night.

"Kumbhakarana must be her ancestor," he muttered under his breath, setting his watch and wallet on the dresser.

As he removed his socks, his gaze inadvertently fell on her. She was curled up in a silk two-piece nightgown, the loose robe revealing the soft curve of her neck and the delicate wedding chain resting there. A symbol of their newly forged bond-one he hadn't fully accepted.

"She's taken over my bed like a second bedsheet," he grumbled, noticing her hand unconsciously resting on his side. With a sigh, he headed to the bathroom to change.

When he returned, he noticed her phone clutched in her hand, along with a photo of her mother. Dried tear tracks marred her fair cheeks. She cried herself to sleep.

His irritation softened into a fleeting moment of sympathy as he pulled a spare duvet over himself. Maybe I'm not the only one struggling with this marriage.

---

The Next Morning

The familiar jingle of bangles stirred him from sleep. Raman groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes. Through the folds of the duvet, he spotted her petite figure by the dresser. Dressed in a baby pink churidar, Ishita was untangling her long hair with focused determination.

His gaze lingered longer than he intended, admiring the gentle curves of her frame, the grace with which she moved. Why does she have to look so... captivating?