Her friend, who had wiped her tears more times than she could count, had placed her in a precarious situation which made her shed more tears than she had ever remembered. Her nostrils flared and her eyes glared at him through the striated veil of her thick eyelashes.
He had hated bitter gourd as much as she did, but he had continued to eat her portion of bitter gourd curry even after their six months pact had ended. And yet, years later, he appeared to have no qualms to flood her life with bitterness.
The bloodstained dressing of his hands did not escape her notice. Despite the ripple of curiosity in her tempestuous ocean of thoughts, the ripple did not stand a chance against the tidal wave of disgust and sense of betrayal that consumed her.
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