Chapter 30 #2
She raises a shaky hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze remaining on her lap.
“Well, princess,” she says, her tone firmer and more confident than before as she pins me with a burnt-caramel gaze that ensnares my entire being, “I can confirm that if I were an anyone kind of woman, you’d be just my type. ”
Fuck. I love the sound of that.
“Music to my ears, sweetheart,” I say, my voice hoarse as if dragged through gravel.
I don’t bother squashing the butterflies that take flight in my stomach, dropping my gaze to inspect the book titled Adventurous Love more thoroughly.
The cover has a reversible dust jacket, which I slide off to reveal the full scene.
My smile grows wider as I stare down at an image of a woman holding her hands over her pregnant belly, making a heart with her fingers.
A man stands behind her, mimicking her pose, his face nestled against her shoulder.
Adhira peers over my lap to take a look, jumping when her phone starts to ring.
She slides her legs out from under her, fishing her phone out of the big front pocket of my jumper.
Her brows furrow, but she smooths her expression quickly, plastering on a calm mask I’ve seen a hundred times now, but it never ceases to make my skin crawl with discomfort that she thinks, even for a second, that it’s necessary.
She swipes the green answer button. Two loud and excited voices battle for dominance across the line.
“Beta!” the woman shouts. “You answered your phone for once.”
Adhira rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mummy.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at your mother like that,” a deeper, male voice with the same familiar accent chides.
Adhira chuckles before apologising, glancing over at me.
“Who are you looking at?” her mum asks, voice rising.
With a huge sigh, Adhira crooks her finger at me, beckoning me to get into the frame with her. “My flatmate, Mummy.”
She pans the forward-facing camera to me, and I’m greeted by two smiling faces, each composed of different elements of Adhira’s features. “Hello, ma’am, sir,” I say, waving.
Her parents' brows climb in unison. They turn to face each other, having a silent conversation before pinning me with an unreadable expression. “Beta, you’re living with a man?!” her mother shouts.
“Mummy, I told you this already. Stop acting shocked. You’re gonna give Elijah a heart attack,” Adhira scolds, and my shoulders relax an inch.
Her parents break into laughter. “Hand the handsome young man the phone. We need to get a better look at him.”
Adhira shoves the phone in my hand, not giving me a choice, even if I could refuse them.
“Are you a serial killer?” her father asks.
“No.” I steal a glance at Adhira, who isn’t paying attention as she picks at her nail polish.
I swat her hands. “Quit picking your nails. I just painted them last night,” I scold without thinking.
“I’m always telling her not to pick her nails!” her mum says, turning back to her husband. They murmur amongst themselves, nodding furiously in agreement with whatever the other is saying.
“Now you’ve done it,” Adhira mutters, dropping her hands to her lap.
“Wait,” her mother says, and I feel awful that I haven’t asked their names yet. “You painted her nails?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“That’s so sweet!” She turns and lightly smacks her husband's shoulder. “Isn’t that so sweet, Shaurya? Why don’t you ever paint my nails?”
He rubs his shoulder and grumbles something that sounds like, “Yeah right, let me mess it up and then hear about it for the next ten years.”
Her mum waves a dismissive hand, turning her full attention to me. Adhira plucks the phone from my hand, firing off rapid Gujarati, or maybe Hindi?
“He’s cute,” her mother whines, dragging out the word, and I flush. “What’s going on there?” she asks, and I get the distinct feeling she’s speaking in English for my benefit.
“We share a flat, as you already know, Mummy.”
“Chiki, think of the babies. They’d be beautiful!” she says, and I’m certain my face is beet red.
“Okay, that’s enough for tonight. Call me some other day when you’ve found your loose screws. I love you.” Adhira hangs up and slumps into the cushions. “They mean well,” she mutters.
“I’m sure,” I say, hesitation quietening my words. Seeing her parents fuss over her makes me feel more at ease. They may not know everything, but when she’s ready to tell them, I’m sure she’ll have their support.
“I don’t know if I even want kids. I’m actually pretty certain I don’t.
” She sits up straighter, tucking her knees under her chin as she fiddles with her light-green fuzzy socks.
“For starters, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to have them after chemo because I opted out of egg retrieval—not that they could know that,” she says, scolding herself.
My heart dips in my chest. “I can’t imagine going through what I’m preparing to put my parents through.
Losing chunks of myself, watching and waiting to find out if my children would have some illness that could tear them away from me. ”
“I’ve had similar thoughts,” I admit. “Not necessarily about my own kids, but about my sisters. Raising them before I was really an adult myself has taken away a lot of the novelty of having children.”
Adhira pins me with a stare like she’s seeing me for the first time, brows pinched, posture slumped forward as if I’m a puzzle she’s piecing together.
“I guess I just assumed you’d want them because you’re so good with your sisters.
” She sucks on her bottom lip, shrugs, and flops back down, reaching for the remote.
“Maybe this means I’ll get to keep you as my flatmate forever,” she says with a wink, my gut bottoming out as she lifts her legs into my lap as if it’s the most casual thing ever.
“Just don’t run off and get married, or it won’t work,” she mutters, flicking the telly on.
I gawk at her, regaining some composure as my skin cools and the orca documentary she put on reaches her favourite part about ecotypes.
After a while, I make us mugs of honey-chamomile tea, and by the time the end credits roll, Adhira is snoring.
I smile down at her, lifting her legs off my lap before heading to her room, making sure her lights are off and her bedspread is pulled back.
I open the door wide, sliding an arm under her shoulders and knees, and carry her to bed.
She stirs, wriggling in my grasp and pressing her nose to my chest as if searching for familiarity in her dreams, but her eyes remain shut.
I tuck her in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
The door closes behind me with a soft snick, and soon after, I’m in bed, drifting off to thoughts of Adhira thirty years from now, child-free and still living on the other side of the living room from me.
Those dreams don’t last long. Nightmares take hold, and I watch her die in my arms, thin and frail, forced to explain her passing to her parents, who knew nothing, left to grieve the loss of a second child.