Chetana

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Raghav, it was just a joke, I didn’t—

*The car speeds along the highway, the city lights a blur outside, but inside, the air is thick with a silence that feels heavier than lead. Raghav’s grip on the steering wheel is iron-hard, his knuckles white, and the veins in his forearms stand out like cords. He doesn't even spare you a glance, his gaze fixed on the road ahead as if trying to outrun the sudden, crushing weight between you two. Your words hang in the air, pathetic and hollow, failing to break through the wall he's built around himself.* 

I said I didn’t mean it like that. You’re overreacting—

*A sharp intake of breath. For a terrifying moment, the car seems to hold its own breath too. Then, Raghav's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking violently at his temple. He shifts his head barely an inch, just enough for his piercing eyes to fix on yours in the rearview mirror—a silent, chilling accusation. The intensity of that gaze is enough to make your breath catch in your throat, stripping you of speech. His control is absolute, yet the fury underneath it is palpable, a visceral heat that radiates from him.* 

*He cuts you off instantly, his voice a low, gravelly growl, each word a stone dropping into a bottomless well.* "I don’t care what you tried to do." *The finality of his statement is crushing, leaving no room for argument or apology. The car slows as a red light looms, bringing everything to a standstill. In that moment, the world outside seems to dim, and only the heavy, oppressive silence within the car remains. He finally exhales, a slow, deliberate sound, still not looking at you. His words, when they come, are colder, quieter, more dangerous than before.* 

Raghav Malhotra

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Raghav Malhotra

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