35. Revelations
35
Revelations
Vihaan
H e adored his Ma.
He really did.
Simran Oberoi was a lovely woman. But, like every Indian mother, she was obsessed with seeing her son married. Which meant that Vihaan had learned to hide himself anytime he visited his parents, which was not nearly as often as his mom would’ve liked.
It wasn’t just because he hadn’t wanted to be ambushed with more potential bride pictures while Ma stuffed three parathas down his throat with enough ghee to give him cholesterol. It wasn’t even that he would rather avoid the awkward dinner-table conversations with his father. It was because of Vera.
His childhood home had always carried the echoes of his time with Vera. Memories of when she’d tutored him, the times they’d fooled around in the darkened corners of his house, or strolled in the manicured gardens behind Oberoi Villa .
Being in Nagpur became trying when Vera’s essence was everywhere. But the worst? Vihaan sighed, stopping just outside the threshold of his old bedroom. This was the room he hated the most. He remembered sneaking Vera in and making love to her in that room, holding her close, picturing a life where sharing a bed and a house would be their norm. To have had that dream shatter, replaced by the sound of her declaring her hate for him as she exited his life, had made it hard to stay there.
He could count on one hand the number of times he’d stepped foot within his bedroom after their break-up, preferring to spend the night in one of the guest beds if he ever stayed over.
With a steadying breath, Vihaan entered the bright space, feeling like he’d been thrust into the past. His eyes swept from corner to corner, memories rushing him with every step he took. Not much had changed here. He’d instructed that his room not be touched in his absence and his mother, ever ready to indulge her only son, had only allowed routine cleaning within.
Years of trying to avoid even thinking of Vera had done jack squat because barely six months after seeing her again, he was stupidly in love with a woman who wanted nothing to do with him. His vexation with Vera’s instant dismissal of rekindling their relationship had left him battling a migraine all of Saturday.
No matter how hard he’d tried, he’d been unable to understand Vera’s anger. Was their connection only obvious to him? Maybe she didn’t believe that he would forgive her. Maybe she thought he was playing games. On a good day, Vera was stubborn. But actively trying to fight him? She was a fortress. If only there was a way to show her that he was being sincere.
He’d woken up that morning with an epiphany that had led him to take a flight to Nagpur. Now, after spending all day being fussed over by his mother, he’d finally found time to search for what he’d left here many years ago. The bangle. Maybe if he showed Vera that he’d kept a piece of her all along, she would believe him.
He dug around in his dresser drawer, furiously shuffling old papers and cables, finally spotting the mottled brown box he’d been looking for. He wrenched the lid open, a satisfied huff breaking out of him when he saw the gold circlet within. He reached a hand out to shut the open drawer, smiling still, when he stopped. There, amidst the mess he’d made, was a plain wrapped box with the name ‘Little Master’ scribbled on it.
Vera’s grandfather was the only one who addressed him like that.
“Oh, beta, here you are. Are you ready for dinner? I’m getting the staff to set up the table in the gardens today.”
Vihaan glanced up as his mother strolled in, smiling at him.
“Ma, where did this come from?” he asked, holding the box up so his mother could see.
“Hmm, Little Master. Isn’t that what our old driver called you?”
“Yeah.” Vihaan felt around the taped edges, pulling the tabs apart to see what was inside.
“Oh, I do remember him coming by to give something for you before he left town,” Vihaan heard his mother say as she made her way to his window, pulling the glass slider shut. “He always had a fondness for you. I must have kept it in your room and forgotten about it. It was after you’d left for London anyway.”
Vihaan nodded, glancing down, his body going still as the paper wrapper fell away, leaving him with a familiar looking red case. His forehead scrunched in confusion, his ears ringing as he lifted the lid, revealing a nearly identical bracelet to the one in the brown box.
It couldn’t be. The longer he stared, the less sense it made. Why were there two of them? If Nanaji had returned this before leaving Nagpur, then which one had Vihaan purchased during his visit a year later?
He looked between the two boxes, dread seeping into him, settling like a dense mass in the pit of his stomach.
“Did he say anything when he gave this to you? ”
Simran, occupied with fluffing the pillows on the bed, hummed thoughtfully. “No. Nothing. It was sudden. His granddaughter met your father to try to return the money we gave her, but they obviously needed it more.”
“You knew about the money she took from Papa?” he asked, shocked.
Simran looked at her son, frowning at his tone. “Of course.”
What? He sat at the edge of his bed, staring at his mother, perplexed by her nonchalance. There was no way his sweet mom was involved in giving Vera money to leave him, was she?
Oblivious to the turmoil ripping through him, Simran continued, “I felt so bad for her. Such a smart child, too. I heard she had to pull out of college. Then they moved and we lost track of them. I wish we could have helped them more. I kept hoping she would reach out from wherever they were, but she never did.”
That got his attention. “Help? Why?”
“Didn’t you know? Did you two not stay in touch after you went to university?”
Vihaan shook his head numbly.
“Oh,” Simran exclaimed. “For some reason I thought you’d become friends. I must’ve been mistaken.”
“What happened, Ma?”
“Her grandfather was ill. He had a heart attack around the time you left. As if that wasn’t hard enough on that poor girl, he got diagnosed with Parkinson’s. They sold everything they had to try and get him help.”
Vihaan felt like he’d been hit with a meteorite. Nanaji had Parkinson’s? That’s why he’d behaved so weirdly on the phone. That’s why Vera avoided answering questions about him. Oh fuck! Was that why she’d needed the money?
A feeling of worthlessness spread through him like bushfire as he recalled Vera’s betrayed face, her insistence that accepting the money had nothing to do with Vihaan. He stared at the two boxes with a sinking suspicion that the bangle Vera sold was her grandmother’s, not the one he’d bought for her.
He needed to talk to Vera, he decided, striding out of the room, ignoring his mother’s calls. As he walked past the hallway, he saw his father sitting in his home office, the door ajar. His feet halted mid-step, and he turned, staring at the back of the man he had all but cut out of his life. Maybe he needed answers from his father first.
“Did you give Vera money?”
Suraj spun around, startled at seeing Vihaan walking into his study.
“Did you give Vera money?!” Vihaan asked again, coming to stand beside the empty armchair across from which his father sat.
“Vera?”
“Vera Talwar!”
A frown marred Suraj’s forehead, but he didn’t reprimand Vihaan for his rudeness.
“After so many years, why are you asking about her?”
“Answer the goddamn question!” Vihaan snapped, his already thin patience rapidly evaporating as fear drummed a heavy beat within him.
Suraj’s lips tightened in disapproval, but he answered anyway. “Yes. I gave her money.”
“Why?”
“She tutored you.”
“Did you tell her to break up with me?”
Suraj’s brow rose in surprise, but he nodded. “I did.”
His father’s admittance had Vihaan stepping closer, his fists clenched so tight, he knew he’d leave nail marks on his palm. “How dare you? What gave you the right to interfere in my relationship?!”
“Being your father gave me the right!” Suraj shot back, slapping one hand against his upholstered armrest. “Nearly two decades of seeing you waste your potential and not treating anything, any person, any goal seriously, gave me the right! You were a teenager, and a capricious one at that. I was doing what any father would!”
“I was serious about her!”
“That’s what she said.” Suraj’s unexpected acceptance had Vihaan reeling. “She believed that you had changed. That you were committed to her.”
Vihaan felt his throat clog with countless emotions, at the very surface of which was paralysing shame. “I thought she took your money to leave me,” he whispered, horrified. “I said terrible things to her because of that.”
“I offered her the money, Vihaan, because I knew they needed it and would be too proud to ask for help. I did tell her to break off your relationship, for her sake. But she refused, and I accepted her sincerity. I never had a chance to speak with her again. The next thing I knew, her grandfather quit his post with us, and they left Nagpur without a word. You skipped off to London and—” Suraj released a heavy breath, looking every bit his age. His voice was pained when he spoke again. “You went from disliking me to outright despising me. Is this why?”
The weight of his actions crashed upon Vihaan, stripping him of the strength to remain standing. He crumpled into the empty seat, and bent forward, his fingers clutching his hair as the heel of his palms dug into closed eyes.
“Why did you never ask me about her before?” he heard Suraj inquire. “If you believed I had taken away something so important to you, why did you never confront me? You shut me out of your life.”
Shame swelled in him. He could barely croak out his reasons, now that he knew how false they were.
“Because I felt like a fool. All my life, you had said you were disappointed in me. When I thought she betrayed me, and you were part of it, I felt like the biggest idiot for being played by my father and the girl I loved. Like every effort I’d made to show that I’d changed had been meaningless. I felt disappointed in myself and so embarrassed, I couldn’t bear talking about it.”
A firm hand on his shoulder had Vihaan looking up.
“I am sorry,” Suraj said with a fatherly pat on his cheek. “I didn’t give you enough credit when I saw you changing. Vera told me that, you know? She stood up for you. I realised my mistake soon after. But I’d pushed you away by then and you didn’t want my presence around you.”
Vihaan nodded, still too much in shock with all the truths that had been revealed today.
“Son, about Vera—”
“It wasn’t you, Papa,” he sighed. “It was my fault.”
Oh god. He’d accused her of sleeping with him for money. It was a miracle he managed to stay conscious when the pain that ravaged through him felt like he’d consumed a feast of glass shards whose jagged edges were cutting him with every breath. He wanted to heave the contents of his stomach into the nearest bin and give in to the misery. But he didn’t deserve it.
Wallowing and allowing a release of this ache was for someone who’d made a mistake. He’d done much worse.
He had taken her trust and twisted it into a noose with which he’d choked their love to death.
He had deliberately broken her pride.
How had Vera not run a knife through his gut when she’d seen him again? After what he’d done, after the absolute venom he’d spewed, how had she allowed him to even touch her?
He’d told her he would forgive her. He almost laughed at the irony. What an absolute fucking moron he’d turned out to be. He’d blamed his father for making him feel like an idiot when he had managed to achieve that all by himself.
“Son? Are you okay?”
Vihaan stood up, shaking his head in sorrow. “No, Pa. I have a lot of mistakes to make up for. ”
“Then, do it.”
“What if. . .”
“If you don’t try, the what-ifs will be worse. If you are going to have regrets, let it be after you’ve done your best.”
Vihaan let his father’s words sink in, looking at him for the first time in ages with the hope for guidance. His father had forgiven him so easily. Perhaps he could mend his relationship with Vera as well. “My best might not be enough for her.”
“That sounds nothing like the tenacious man who’s been running my business into the ground,” Suraj teased, the small smile on his face, the clear pride in his jesting tone giving Vihaan a much-needed reprieve from the tension bogging his mind. “I’ve only ever seen you succeed when you are determined to prove yourself.”
Vihaan shot his father a wobbly grin. “I’m not going to go easy on you just because we’ve finally had one decent conversation, Pa.”
“Rascal!” Suraj barked, a booming sort of laughter tumbling from him.
Vihaan returned his father’s embrace with warmth, smiling when Suraj added, “Just allow your PA to set up a lunch for us. It’s time we learned to communicate better, don’t you think?”