Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie hosts the Wordle #199.
whelve- to turn (as a dish or vessel) upside down usually to cover something
balter- to dance or tread clumsily
Rayna entered her apartment after a tiring day at work. Some days just seemed to go on forever, she grumbled internally as she divested herself of various bags and grocery parcels. Thank God, the new grocery mart at the end of M Block was open till 9 pm, she was so hungry.
The house seemed quiet; maybe Shivam had gone to bed early. Since their fight 2 days ago, she’d taken to avoiding him. It would’ve been quite difficult to keep a civil tongue in her head, if she had to spend more than 15 minutes in his company. Rayna entered her room, intending to quickly change and freshen up before venturing into the kitchen.
“Surprise!” Shivam screamed, as Rayna switched on the lights. Her eyebrows rose up in shock as she discovered the status of her usually pristine room. Gaudy streamers and balloons, like those used in children’s parties, were hanging from the galaxy painted ceiling. Her bed was unmade and two large boxes were dumped upon it. There were numerous candles and rose petals strewn around the room. The two framed artworks on her wall, one depicting a village market in water-colours and the other was an abstract of the crosswalk between life and death, had become victim to his apology message- ‘I’m Sorry‘. Each of these golden letters were pasted on the space between the ends of the two frames.
In the meantime, Shivam had cued the music and a Punjabi song, by his favourite singer, started belting out a rap at full volume. Rayna feared the neighbours calling the cops, but he appeared undaunted by her rubbing her forehead. The loud sound grated on her nerves that was already reeling under pressure from exhaustion and dread of the massive clean-up that would follow his caper. “I know you’re hungry,” he smiled as he led her to stand in front of her coffee table laden with plates. “Now, no cooking and only eating tonight.” He’d whelved her plastic mixing bowls on top of, what looked like semi-burnt mini pizzas and soggy pancakes.
As he baltered to the song in an attempt to cajole her into forgiving him, Rayna slumped down beside her bed, stuck by an epiphany. The food, the song, the decorations- they were all his favourites. A lovely show of apology, without feeling or uttering a word of remorse.
These grand gestures of love, no doubt inspired by the silly romantic movies, wasn’t something that she’d ever needed, especially not at the end of the long day at work. But if she expressed her displeasure right now, it would shift the blame from his irresponsible and lying ass to her ‘stuck-up’ shoulders. Others never saw the small selfish and insensitive actions and words that lay beneath his projected veneer of earnest kindness and honesty.
Rayna felt a hot rush of anger well up within her, as he sat down beside her and smirked, “So, I’m forgiven right?”
Inspired by Michael’s Tale Weaver #285– Forgiveness.