TRISHA
“My father?” Krish asked, sounding confused as to why I had brought up his name. I wasn't prepared to answer his question or dig up the old graves that I thought had been buried for good.
“I'm sleepy,” I lied, trying to get up, but Krish gripped my hand, preventing me from leaving.
“What are you hiding?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I replied, but he wasn't convinced.
“You wouldn't have brought my father into this conversation for nothing, Trisha. Why do I sense you're hiding something crucial from me?”
Just like that, my eyes moistened with tears. I felt weak and vulnerable, emotions I had fought hard to suppress resurfacing. I didn't want to cry, but Krish pulled me close to him.
“Trisha, if you don't speak up now, we might never get over this. Look at me... I still couldn't move on from you, wondering what made you not accept my feelings despite seeing those same feelings in your eyes throughout our time together. I've thought about it every single day for the last two years. If you don't tell me what the real matter is, I'll go crazy trying to connect these dots myself. Is that what you want?”