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She immersed in the water, the ripples forming around her. It was warm, and she let her whole body submerge as she blocked his screams that resonated in her head.

He was back in one of his moods, and this time with another woman in the picture. It was tiring, very tiring to be listening to the stories, reliving them, and then trying to make sense. His I-love-yous made no sense, nor did his i-miss-yous.

She dipped her head in the water, her hair clinging to her scalp, her fingers holding onto whatever she could. She was grasping for what was left, if there be anything left, while her fingers lingered in the emptiness, in a vacuum that she felt within.

“Bitch! Fucking bitch! Slut!”

His voice echoed, once, twice, thrice, a million times.

She was under the mass of water which blocked his voice. It was warm, unlike the coldness that prevailed around her the moment she emerged. Stay in, keep her head low, let the waters block her existence.

Love had turned null, dead and an irritation. She hoped he would leave her in peace, she wished both of them would stop messing with her peace, and let her drown in her little solitary being, in the waters that calmed her, soothed her, and made her feel her being from within.

Her legs kicked harder, waves forming with the anger and the helpless that gushed out.

“Slut! Slut! Slut!” he continues.

She dived deeper, while his voice faded into the Bollywood music that surged out piercing her ears.