JIVAN

My words that day leave her flabbergasted, eyes wide open. A long silence. No word, not even the subtle language of her eyes that could make anything clear.

I leave and return again and again to Prithviraj’s doorstep for dinner and breakfast, like my usual routine. I am trying to make our conversation not affect either of us.

Because my words come from the part of me that feels hurt when she says I should see the girl and her reaction, which speaks that I don’t matter, similar to how she started to matter to me.

I have to learn to return to normalcy. Her parents don’t pick up her calls when she tries, growing tired of being a third wheel and a burden on Manyata Bhabhi’s shoulder.
Bhabhi never treats her with accusing words, but she must feel it self-consciously.

Her mind is hardly on her food. She stirs the rice on her plate, her attention drawn to the grain on her plate. I assume today is one of the times she has called her parents.

Bhabhi’s hand reaches out toward her wrist on the table and slightly holds it. The girl returns her gaze to the table, eyes finding me staring at her.

That day, dinner ended as usual, and the calls were aligned, as always.
I put on my shoes and descend the stairs. Opening the car door, I am about to slide inside.

A few steps further, I notice her, heavily breathing, her halted feet frozen. Raven hair falls across her shoulders, lips parted in a gasp of air.

There can be a zillion forms of conversation with two people, and I am unsure there is one for a situation like this.
Why would she run my way like this?

She takes a deep breath.
“I have your shirt at my parents’ house.” She suddenly speaks, and I am left surprised.

“You ran all the way here to tell me that?”

“I am sorry,” she says.
 I frown and close the door.
“Nothing… I am sorry,” she starts to turn around and return.

~~~~~~

“She ran behind you to reject you again?”

“What?” My head jerks to find Prithviraj’s face. He is still focused on the file he is reading.
He shrugs at my question, clearly not caring about my emotions.

He is the most emotionally unavailable person—except I doubt this theory of mine whenever I see him with his wife.

“Your last conversation with her was… You're asking her whatever. And she literally came behind you, saw you, and then said Sorry?”
He makes it sound like I was rejected all over again.

“First, you should not be judging me, because your wife saw me for the first time in the most hideous clothes ever to exist. And second, I feel you are sabotaging our relationship.”

He raids his files from the shelf, throwing them on the floor.
“Your break time is over. Go work.”

I stand, push the chair back, and raise my chin at him.
“I am coming for dinner again today!”

“I feel like you eat too much at my house. Manyata was just calculating the other day—our maintenance expenses have increased.”
I ignore him and step outside.

~~~~

“Where is Jheel?” I ask, sitting on the chair, sliding slightly and focusing my eyes on Bhabhi.

“Jheel’s friend from Delhi contacted her! She is visiting her and said she will stay there for a while.”

I face the blood my father died swearing loyalty to. He could have informed me.

~~~~~~~

I sit in the garden, Bhabhi stepping towards me and sitting beside me.

“The weather is good today,” she says, and I nod.

She pauses for a long time, her thoughts wandering around the house before she returns to me.
“She was too focused on the idea that she is burdening me and Prithviraj me. That’s why, when her friend contacted her, she immediately asked to go and left.”

I nod before leaning forward, head down.
“She will return. She told me, she will.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bhabhi. She doesn’t have the same feelings for me, and she made it clear twice!”

“I know, but if seeing her almost every day makes you happy, you should have it. Some love can be distant, and yet perfectly fine.”

~~~~~~~

It’s been over a month. And I think, if I am distant enough, we might be able to forget each other.

I visit the Adhvaryu house less now, trying to believe that being in different places than the vicinity we shared will make it possible not to think about her.
I have been wrong.

I am helping them load the trucks.
Prithviraj stands in the corner of the office building, staring at me. We both cross a knowing look, and I guide the workers before I follow him upstairs.

He goes inside the office again and sits down in the chair.
His hand reaches for his phone; he opens the screen and keeps it across from me on the table.

Jheel stands with another man, their hands together, exchanging rings.
It is hard to understand the image. Is it new? Old? The background isn’t lavish. I believe the Chauhans in the past wouldn’t have sneaked an engagement. In the present, it’s only been a month since she was gone.

“Her friend from Delhi had a brother. And her family liked Jheel. They sealed an arrangement. Even Chauhan found out, and now magically he has accepted her again.”

“The guy looks old?” I ask.

He nods. “He is forty-two, moderately rich. They have a thriving restaurant chain in South Delhi. If my sources are right, he is a widower with two kids in their teenage years.”

I gulp. “Who is your source?”

Prithviraj is never sober; he is always too bold. But when he hides his eyes, I know. “Manyata.”

I laugh. “So she would marry a forty-two-year-old widower with two children, almost half her age already! Then give a chance to somebody like me?”

“I will tell you something from personal experience, Jivan.” He pauses, standing. “The situation I found Manyata in the dungeon, one week after everything… in that situation, if I had asked her to marry me, she would have said yes, to punish herself for the guilt she bore. But we started to see each other, felt the difference and togetherness. And after everything, we had a break for a year—a cooling period to understand whether what we had was actually love or just an after-effect of tragedy.”

He comes around the chair and keeps both hands on my shoulders.
“In the last two years, we all left the dungeon, Jivan. But she hasn’t,” he says, and my eyes fall on the straight face of Jheel in the photo.
“And she is still under the same guilt Manyata was under, ready to punish herself for it. Taking the first chance, she gets. It’s your turn now to show her the great things, understand your differences and togetherness, and see if it’s love or remorse.”

“She is marrying somebody else!”

“So what? It won’t be the first time we kidnap a bride from her wedding.”

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I LOVEEEEE THIS!!!!!

Prithvi looks best as kidnapper haahahahahah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!