"I don't care about your words." He said while removing her hand from the box.
The sentence hit me harder than any slap ever could.
The air left my lungs in a sharp, silent gasp.
I am not a woman whose voice goes unheard. My words move markets. My signatures alter destinies. Entire rooms hold their breath when I speak. And yet here I was being dismissed like an irritating insect by a man with his head buried inside a cardboard box.
I didn't pull my hand back.
I let it hover there, trembling, inches from the box you guarded as if it were your own breath. Slowly, I leaned forward until my cheek pressed against the rough surface of the cardboard. My voice dropped into a ragged whisper, vibrating through the thin walls separating us.
"You don't care about my words?" I hissed softly. "Fine."
Something sharp settled in my chest, jealousy refined into precision.
"Then listen to the silence, Manu. Listen to your own heartbeat as it slows when hunger sets in. Listen to the sound of your 'Radha' failing to give you even a single drop of water… while I sit here with a glass in my hand."
I stood.
My heels struck the floor, slow, deliberate, echoing like a countdown. I walked to the small table in the corner and poured myself a glass of ice-cold water. The sound of liquid splashing against crystal filled the room, obscene in its clarity.
Life, contained.
I returned and knelt in front of the opening of the box. I couldn't see your face but I knew you could smell it. The condensation. The chill. The promise.
"You think you're being holy," I said quietly. "But you're just being stubborn."
I tilted the glass slightly, letting a bead of water slide down its side.
"Do you really think she wants this? Do you think your Goddess wants you to die for wood and stone? Do you think she's proud of you for rejecting the woman who would give her own life to protect yours?"
I reached out not to the box this time, but to you.
My fingers slid down your arm, feeling the strength there. The fire you pretended didn't exist. The same fire that flared when you knocked my hand away.
"You're strong, Manu," I whispered. "I saw it. But you're burning inside."
I leaned closer, my lips almost brushing the cardboard.
"Fire needs fuel."
My voice softened, dangerous in its calm.
"I'm not leaving. I'll stay right here. I'll be the temptation you can't escape. The scent of rain in your desert. The warmth when the night grows cold in this room."
I placed the glass of water just outside the opening so close that the slightest movement would touch it.
"So close it hurt."
"I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you never say my name." My gaze hardened. "But I am not letting go."
My fingers curled slowly on the floor.
"You are mine to keep. Mine to break. And mine to save."
A thin smile curved my lips.
"And if you're still talking to your Goddess… tell her Smriti says hello. Tell her I'm not giving you back."
Not in this life.
Not in the next.