Chapter Fifteen
Chapter
Fifteen
“And I know we can’t fix every ache inside of us. But I shouldn’t have to pretend it’s not there, either.”
—Colin Hughes, Ted Lasso
Veer unlocked his front door and slammed it closed behind him. He kicked off his shoes, leaving his suitcase by the door, and fell into the couch, clutching his forehead. What a chaotic weekend. He hugged a fluffy cushion to his chest, then jerked away when he caught a whiff of strawberries, probably from the last time Harsha was here.
No. Veer threw the cushion aside. He couldn’t let his mind wander in Harsha’s direction again, or he’d stay up all night thinking of her kindness, her compassion, her beauty. Of that almost-kiss and the way he was forcing himself to get some space from her, for the sake of what was still at stake. He wouldn’t let himself dream of any sort of real connection with her—at least not until the third payment was in his bank account, Arjun’s tuition was taken care of, and his future was safeguarded.
He changed out of his airport clothes and decided to take a nice, long nap when his phone chimed with a text from Harsha. I got back a while ago. Hope you did too?
He sent out a quick text. Yep. Could you send over the second payment when you get a chance?
Harsha is typing…
Harsha is typing…
Harsha:
Okay
He paused, then texted the Barista Bitches WhatsApp group. I’m back home. I know it’s only noon, but anyone up for drinks?
Raunak is typing…
Raunak:
Hell yes! It’s always 5 p.m. somewhere!
Deepika:
Yep, see you in an hour after my shift!
Guess that nap would have to wait. Veer headed to the shower instead, grateful for the distraction his friends would hopefully give him.
At their favorite bar, his friends caught him up on all the drama that had happened at Sunstag while he was away. Apparently, two customers had been caught hooking up in the bathroom; their grumpy, introverted store manager’s boyfriend dropped by for the first time; and Deepika’s coconut mocha latte recipe won a barista contest and was added to the menu of every Sunstag store in the country. Then, finally, the topic shifted to Veer.
“You didn’t send me a single picture of any celebrities,” Deepika whined, “but I’m so glad you’re back. We missed you!”
“I missed you both too.” Smiling, Veer clinked his mug of beer with theirs. “But I, uh, decided to take another couple of days off from work.”
“Why?” Raunak asked, frowning.
“This weekend has been a lot,” he admitted. “I just need some RandR.”
His friends nodded in understanding. It hadn’t been an easy decision to extend his break from work, since he’d used up a chunk of his paid time off for the Mumbai trip, but he needed some time to figure out his next steps with Dad…and Harsha. And he couldn’t do that if she was at Sunstag every day, right in his inner orbit.
She had texted him when he was on the way to the bar, asking when he wanted to do their next date, but apart from confirming to her that he’d received the second payment installment, he hadn’t kept the conversation going or answered her question. Veer hadn’t imagined being so vulnerable and baring his soul to anyone ever again, let alone the woman he was fake-dating. He couldn’t face her until he knew what to do about his feelings.
Over their next beer, Raunak told them about his most recent Tinder date with a woman from Delhi who had seemingly only come over because she needed a place to crash until her flight the next day. As Deepika told Raunak this was karma for his fuckboy ways, Veer’s phone chimed with a selfie of Harsha holding up a morsel of masala dosa and a flask of filter coffee.
Harsha:
Guess who just found out CTR delivers to her apartment?
He chuckled and started to type out, CTR: 1, Gourmet Restaurant: 0. You’re welcome , but before he could press Send, Raunak snapped his fingers in Veer’s face, making him jump. “Hey! Stop texting your girlfriend when you’re with us. Didn’t you fly back with her just this morning?
Veer pocketed the phone. “Yeah, sorry.”
Deepika smiled. “You’ve never met a girlfriend’s family before. This is fast for you, but it’s going well, isn’t it?”
Before Veer could reply, Raunak chimed in, “Bet you he’ll come back from the cousin’s wedding and start shopping for engagement rings.”
Veer’s face flushed. He opened his mouth to tell them off, then closed it when Deepika spoke, her eyes twinkling. “Should we start looking up baby names? What letter are we thinking? Girl or boy?”
He tightened his grip on his mug. Any high the beer had given him was slowly dissipating, replaced by sheer dread. There was no way they believed that Veer was serious enough about Harsha to want to marry her. They knew most of the details about his father. Dad’s abandonment had left him emotionally unavailable. Stunted. Empty.
Then why did his heart feel so full at the thought of Harsha’s smile? Why did part of him know he could potentially think, say, and promise those three words to her, and mean them forever? Why didn’t that scare him in the slightest?
“I know!” Raunak slammed his hand on the table. “They should combine their own names to create a new one. Maybe Harshveer if it’s a boy, and Varsha if it’s a girl!”
The emotions swirled around in him—Harsha’s softness as he navigated his panic attack, her support of his acting career, and that almost-kiss—god, it was all a bit too much. He didn’t know how to function or deal with his feelings for her.
Especially because the longer this went on, the harder it got for him to imagine a life without her in it.
“Would Harsha let you get a stripper for your bachelor party?” Raunak asked. He swirled the last of his beer around in the mug. “I know this woman who does—”
“Just stop it!” Veer roared, loud enough for other people to hear over the pounding EDM beats. He lowered his voice an octave. “There’s not going to be a bachelor party, or a wedding. Or—or babies!”
Deepika and Raunak exchanged confused glances. “Why not?” She tilted her head.
Veer’s shoulders sank as he said, “Because it’s not real.”
Deepika’s mouth fell open, her sentence dying on her lips. Beside her, Raunak choked on his beer. “What?” they both said in unison.
Veer finally admitted the truth about the contract, the money, and Harsha’s complicated family history. He hung his head when he was done, bracing himself for their outrage. And boy, were they pissed.
“Are you out of your mind?” Raunak said, his jaw tense. “Why would you ever agree to something like this?”
“I had to do it, for Arjun’s sake—”
“You could have asked us for money,” Raunak insisted. “We would have pooled our savings, asked other people in our network for help.”
Veer sighed. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Do you think this is some kind of Bollywood movie?” Deepika shook her head. “Veer, you can’t be serious.”
He rubbed his temples. “I am serious.”
“You’re practically an escort without the sex part,” she said, while Raunak nodded furiously. “There is no universe in which this ends well.”
“But it’s fake,” he murmured in his defense.
“Is it, though?” Deepika raised a brow. “Or are you taking time off from work because you’ve caught real feelings for her?”
Veer wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “I…may have.”
His friends exchanged glances, some sort of unspoken agreement between them. Then Deepika said, “We’ve always liked her for you, but this sounds too complicated to ever work.”
“So what do I do now?” he said weakly.
“Well, you have to keep it in your pants,” Raunak said, “and keep her out of your heart.”
“Agreed.” Deepika frowned. “Her dad sounds like bad news. If the truth comes out, he’ll ruin your life, and that could affect your mom and Arjun too.”
He gulped. They were right. Fuck, they were so right.
“Okay, so the wedding is in two weeks.” Deepika drummed her fingers on the table, ever the planner of the group. “Hold it together for now, then cut it off with Harsha completely.”
Veer nodded dismally.
Slowly, the conversation switched to relationship horror stories, Raunak’s upcoming dates, and the new coffee blends Deepika wanted to introduce to Sunstag. Veer chimed in with occasional uh-huhs and mm-hmms, replying half-heartedly to whatever his friends were saying, but his mind was still on their warnings and how right they were.
If he wanted to get over this crush and stop it from turning into full-blown feelings, he needed space. He would keep up the deal to the best of his abilities, but no way would he let himself bare his soul to Harsha again.
It wasn’t worth the risk.
Veer came back home early, around four in the afternoon, weary from the conversation with his friends, and spotted a Tupperware container on his doorstep with a note: Welcome home! Leftover idli chutney for breakfast tomorrow. Keep refrigerated. —Mom
He laughed and stowed it away in the fridge. As he walked into his room, his thoughts drifted back to Dad and the panic attack.
Both he and Mom deserved to know the full truth about the man who had left them, not just the bits and pieces he had gathered at the airport. He picked up his laptop, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, but he couldn’t bring himself to type out his father’s name.
What if he saw something he wasn’t ready for? Dad’s financial success, fame, maybe even a new family? All while leaving Veer, Arjun, and Mom in the dust?
On the other hand, how would Veer pretend that life was back to normal without satiating his burning curiosity, one that had lain dormant for the past twelve years?
Fuck it. He would do it.
The results were instant, turning the blood in Veer’s veins ice-cold. A LinkedIn résumé boasted eight years at the corporate bank, climbing the ranks steadily to where he was now senior vice president. Facebook photos of young children and a woman with silver-black hair. And…a work cell phone number.
Funny how Veer had gone twelve years without caring about Dad and what he was up to. He’d moved past the grief of losing his father a long time ago. But after today, every single emotion that fifteen-year-old Veer had bottled up crashed over him like a tidal wave. And he didn’t know if there was an off switch to the heartbreak he was reliving all over again. Perhaps the only way out was to face it head-on.
Veer deliberated over it, then punched in the numbers and hit Call before he could second-guess himself. His father might not even pick up, this being a Sunday afternoon, but he had to try. Five agonizingly slow rings later, someone answered. “Hello, Narayan Kannan with LPK Banking here, may I know who’s speaking?”
That voice had been etched in Veer’s mind his whole life, but hearing it after twelve years, knowing everything his father had missed out on in the time since—from Veer’s play performances and Arjun’s success in academics to all the recipes Mom had perfected—it broke Veer. It broke him to know that Dad was out there sitting in an air-conditioned office or a fancy apartment, answering his phone with no idea his estranged son was calling. And even if he knew, he probably wouldn’t care.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
A strangled gasp escaped Veer’s lips as he hung up. His heart thudded, his stomach turned and twisted. He clapped a hand to his mouth to stave off the nausea. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not another panic attack. Please, no —
His phone vibrated with a call. Shit. Was his dad calling back?
No. It was Arjun.
Veer’s head hurt with guilt. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in a while, what with all his focus going toward Harsha, dodging Mom’s questions about the relationship, and his friends’ incessant teasing.
He accepted the call, then set his phone on his stomach and sat back. “Hey, little brother,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Don’t ‘little brother’ me,” Arjun said playfully, and just the sound of his brother’s voice relaxed him. “Guess who got the highest grade on all four of the assignments we turned in since the start of the semester?”
“I don’t know, some nerd with big glasses and oil in his hair?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Arjun laughed. “I can’t believe I’m doing so well at one of the best business schools in India. Sure, engineering was a piece of cake, but how am I juggling numbers and strategy so easily too?”
“Maybe you’ve found your calling,” Veer said, smiling, as he thought of Harsha’s family and how successful they were. “Maybe you’ll start a business of your own someday.”
“Fat chance,” Arjun scoffed, “because most people who graduate from here inevitably end up at multinational corporations. Or at banks. Can you see me as a banker?”
“Uh…” Veer’s thoughts drifted back to their dad. Maybe banking ran in the Kannans’ blood. “I don’t know.” Veer paused, wondering if he should mention seeing Dad at the airport. But Arjun’s spirits were at a high…“Hey, I’m gonna take a nap. Talk soon?” he said instead.
“Love you, big bro. Sleep well!”
Veer hung up and crawled into bed. Arjun’s life was going perfectly on track—thanks to his efforts and the fake relationship—and if Veer wanted to ensure a good future for his brother, he had to do as his friends said, and keep his head on straight.
Some risks weren’t worth the cost, after all.
Harsha walked into Sunstag Café in a better mood than the previous day. The Nandi Hills photo shoot clients had finally posted their engagement pictures on social media and tagged Harsha’s account as the photographer—and it turned out that Daman’s girlfriend wasn’t just a model, but also an influencer with over two hundred thousand followers. Now Harsha had four other inquiries in her email, one of which she’d already agreed to. If all went well, she would have a busy and profitable month.
So it didn’t matter that Veer had been ignoring most of her text messages, for whatever reason. She would focus on brighter, happier things and push down the disappointment she felt at his silence. But just out of curiosity, Harsha made the trip to Sunstag, knowing it was Veer’s regular shift.
“Welcome to Sunstag!” Deepika called out as Harsha made her way to the counter.
Harsha slid her card across the counter, her eyes darting around the café. No sign of Veer. “Can I have the usual?”
Deepika lowered her gaze to the system. “Sure.”
Raunak surfaced from behind the coffee machine, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, hey.”
Harsha frowned as the cash register chirped. Why were they being weird? “Hey”—she looked around—“where’s Veer?”
“Veer?” Deepika and Raunak exchanged glances. Raunak opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, “Uh, he’s not here.”
Harsha jerked her head back. “But I thought today was his first day back after our Mumbai trip?”
“He’s taken a few more days off,” Deepika said, scanning Harsha’s card against the machine.
“What for?”
Raunak glanced at Deepika. “Uhh…his mom’s not well.”
She shifted her feet, wondering why they were all acting so off. Not just Veer, but the other baristas too. “Okay, then.” She took her card back and headed upstairs.
As she sipped her coffee and started on the next of those emails, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Veer. The dancing at the party, the way he’d tugged her closer, his lips mere inches from her, how she’d replayed that moment in her head over and over last night in the shower to let go of the tension pent up in her body.
Then her thoughts shifted to the airport incident and how Veer’s demeanor had changed since landing in Bangalore. Forget playing it cool—she had to know what was wrong. She sent him a text. Hey, I heard your mom is sick. Anything I can do to help?
His status changed to “online” and blue check marks appeared under the message.
Veer:
All good. Thanks
She tugged on her hair elastic. Something was definitely wrong, but what? Veer had always been honest with Harsha about his feelings, even when they were negative. This stone-cold exterior was completely new territory.
Didn’t he find it odd to start his day without their usual inside jokes at Sunstag, or the smiles they exchanged every time he passed by her table? And more than that…didn’t he miss her the way she missed him?
Harsha needed advice, and fast. Sasha was probably still up, since it was just past ten p.m. there, so she video called her and filled her in on everything.
Sasha pursed her lips, her nightly mug of chamomile tea in her hands. “He’s being weird, yes. But maybe his mom is really sick and he’s just too busy taking care of her?”
“Maybe…” Harsha let out an ugh at the phone screen. “Something feels off, though. Just in general. He’s acting distant.”
“I say give him another day and then just have a conversation with him about it. Call him, instead of texting.”
Harsha nodded, sinking into her chair as her eyes dampened. “Okay. I’ll try that. Thanks, S. I wish you were here.” God, she missed her best friend; she missed their weekly cocktail girls’ nights and daily coffee hangouts spent talking about boyfriends, girlfriends, and—of course—college gossip.
“Actually,” Sasha bit the inside of her cheek, “I may know how to fix that.”
Harsha’s brows wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
Sasha’s camera went out of focus for a second, and then she said, “Check your messages.”
Confused, Harsha opened their chat and loaded the screenshot Sasha had just sent her.
Of a plane ticket.
To Bangalore.
With Sasha’s name on it.
Harsha put a hand to her mouth as a tear fell down her cheek. Was this a dream? She hadn’t seen her best friend in four months, the longest they’d been apart in four years. This couldn’t be real.
Sasha came back into focus, grinning. “Two of my friends from grad school are getting married in Jaipur, so I thought I’d make a quick pit stop in Bangalore and see you.”
Harsha shook her head, wiping her cheek. “I don’t believe this. You’re just—you’re the best!”
Laughing, Sasha said, “I know. And hey, if you need someone to be your backup while you beat Veer up, I’m all for it.”
“Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that,” Harsha said with a genuine smile. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll text you soon.”
Sasha blew her an air kiss and hung up.
Harsha put her phone aside and pressed her hand to her chest, soaking in this perfect moment. It was the best timing—Sasha was visiting a few days before Neha’s wedding. At least Harsha would be in a good mood before the wedding from hell.
Grinning, Harsha opened up her laptop to pull up an Excel sheet, deciding to create the greatest itinerary of all time for her best friend.