Spin off to Qayamat.
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Fate decides all.
Fate rules all.
Fates condemns all.
Well, fuck fate!
Harold is a man of riches and noble blood. Coated in a shell of gold that couldn't shield him from the heartbreaks. Now? Now he wears the gold in an ar...
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"You're leaving me."
"For two days." I had to remind him as I packed a small bag. "I'll be back tomorrow night." I had never imagined he would sulk like that because he won't see me for two days. Since we've been married, we've never been apart.
But I wanted to go to this convention and he had no choice but to agree to it. "Since you don't want me to come with you, tell me your flight details. I'll come pick you up from the airport."
I had to move my eyes away from him and he somehow just knew. "What are you not telling me, darling?"
"I'm taking a bus." He didn't give me any time to explain, simply stood up and marched over to me. He stood closer than usual. Since that day of me being high, the distance between us has lessened. We still don't touch but we don't stand miles apart.
"I'm willing to compromise on a lot but you're not taking a seven hour bus."
"It's ten." I couldn't find one that was short enough. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Why must you piss me off every single time? Take the jet."
I scowled at him. "I'm not taking your private jet for a short one hour flight!"
"Then take a commercial flight. I'll book you a ticket. You are not taking the bus, and that's final!"
Because of his condition I had to take the flight that was available which was only one and now I'm late for the convention. The lady smiles at me with sympathy.
"We really appreciate your contribution and willingness. I'm so sorry but we can't do anything. All the slots for therapists are full." If he hadn't put me on a plane which was six hours after our conversation and then got delayed because it's always raining in UK, I would've made it in time.
Fuck you Harold.
I thank the lady and turn to leave when she stops me. "We can't accommodate you as a therapist but we would really appreciate if you stay for the speech and drinks after." I hesitate.
I worry staying here would bring out memories I rather not face again. "Oh my! You're here too!" I turn and find my patient who told me about this place.
I smile. "I am."
"I'm so happy you came. Even being here is in a way supporting someone." It is, isn't it. I guess staying won't be so bad. I find myself a seat in a corner and watch through the introductory video and stats. I hear a lot of motivational speeches.
They all sound the same. Move on, there is a whole life ahead of you, don't let them know they still have an effect on you.
What they don't talk about is the self loathing. Of not liking your own skin because it feels tainted, touched and abused. Even when we don't see the bruises anymore we feel them. What no one talks about is suffocation.
