Chapter 7
Present Day
Abhay kept his hands tightly curled around the steering wheel. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence inside, but his thoughts were anything but quiet. He hadn’t slept, not even for a few minutes. The memory of Siya walking out of the dining room last night haunted him.
Her message had come just after two in the morning.
Can you come over tomorrow morning? We need to talk.
Abhay had stared at that text for ten minutes, trying to see deeper than her words. Pacing around his apartment, phone in hand, he’d debated whether to reply or just drive over to her place right then to make sure she was okay.
He hadn’t done either. And now, hours later, the anxiety that had kept him awake was twisting in his gut with a sharper edge. Something in her tone had hit him right in the chest and left it aching like a bruise.
His car phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Luv calling.
Abhay answered it and put him on speaker, already aware of what he would say.
‘You’re late! We’re already two games in. Swayam is gloating about how he’s better than you.’
Abhay rubbed his temple and sighed. ‘Can’t make it today. Something has come up.’
‘This is racquetball, not brunch. You can’t just skip it on a whim,’ Luv scolded him.
It slipped before he could catch it. ‘I’m going over to Siya’s place.’
There was a pause, and then Luv laughed. ‘Okay, no seriously.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘Come again?’ Luv asked, voice cracking mid-word. Abhay heard him holler and then Swayam joined the conversation.
‘Siya? As in our Siya?’
Abhay ignored the burn of jealousy that blazed through his veins when Swayam referred to her as “ours”.
‘Yes. She texted last night saying she needed to talk.’
Luv let out a low whistle and asked, ‘And you’re just going over without a bulletproof vest? Do you need me to be on standby outside her building with a getaway car or…’
‘Not in the mood, Luv,’ Abhay said firmly.
Luv made a choked sound. ‘Okay, wait. I thought you two weren’t even on speaking terms.
‘We’re not,’ Abhay muttered. He didn’t see their dynamic getting any better, especially not after last night’s fiasco.
‘So this is either a trap or a miracle. Keep your phone on you because if she stabs you, I want to hear it live.’
Abhay let out a low chuckle. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’
There was the sound of a tussle on the call, and then Swayam came on. ‘Call us if you survive, and if you don’t, we’ll throw you a cool funeral.’
After cursing at both of them, Abhay ended the call just as he pulled into the parking lot of Siya’s apartment complex.
The late-morning air was heavy with humidity, and the sky was scattered with the kind of grey clouds that threatened to rain later.
He stepped into the gold-toned, marbled lobby and nodded at the security guard, who let him through.
Her family home, the Kashyap townhouse, was a landmark in Mumbai, famous for its luxurious look and a spacious area of hundreds of acres. Comparatively, this complex was modest by a mile, and it made Abhay wonder why Siya chose to live here.
The elevator ride up was a chaos of thoughts in his mind. He rubbed his face when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored doors. His eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep, and his beard was shabby. He quickly ran his hand through his dishevelled hair, trying his best to look civil.
Abhay rang the bell and took a deep breath. When it opened, the sight of her hit him like a punch. Her hair was pulled up in a lazy bun, with loose strands framing her face. Dark circles shadowed her puffy, swollen eyes.
But it was the hoodie she wore that froze him in place.
That black hoodie had been the only thing she’d taken with her when she’d left after their night together four years ago.
Abhay had assumed he’d lost it, but if he was being honest, a small part of him had hoped it was with her.
Now, seeing her in it overwhelmed him to the point that he felt like his heart would explode.
Siya opened the door wider and said, ‘Come in.’ Her voice was devoid of any emotion, and worry bloomed in his chest when she refused to meet his eyes.
Abhay stepped in without a word, and clicked the door shut behind him. Eyes trained on her, he asked, ‘Are you okay?’
Siya didn’t answer. Instead, she told him, ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make you some coffee.’
Abhay watched as she walked toward the kitchen, and concern twisted in his gut. He followed her.
The kitchen was dimly lit; only a few rays of sunshine came in through the half-open curtains.
Siya grabbed a coffee mug from the upper cabinet and put the water to heat up.
She leaned against the granite countertop, her features dulled with fatigue.
Her gaze was distant, lost in thoughts, as she reached for the boiling water and almost touched the hot stove.
He moved on instinct and stopped her hand before she burned herself. Her hand was trembling in his hold, and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and scorch all her worries to ashes.
But he settled for helping her however he could. He gently took the mug from her other hand, and said, ‘Allow me. I make a mean cup of coffee.’
Siya nodded and let go without resistance, and that unnerved him more than her tears could.
The woman he remembered would have challenged him, would have made a point that she could make it better, and then proved herself right.
But the woman in front of him looked like a ghostly shadow of her old self. His heart ached for her.
Abhay glanced sideways at her as he poured the boiling water into the mug. She was staring into nothing, arms folded tightly around herself. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and he could practically hear the echoes of her screeching thoughts.
Unwilling to fight the instinct to comfort her, he reached up slowly and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear. When she finally met his gaze and Abhay could tell how on the edge she felt.
‘Siya,’ he whispered. ‘Talk to me, baby, please.’
She blinked slowly, as if she were coming back to her senses. Taking a step back, she shrugged, ‘I don’t know where to begin.’
With a nod, Abhay got back to the coffee, giving her space to gather her thoughts.
They moved back to the living room in silence.
When he handed her the mug, their fingers brushed, and he almost flinched at the feeling of her cold skin.
She pulled down the sleeves of the hoodie till her knuckles and held the cup with both hands in an attempt to warm them up.
He dropped into the chair across from where Siya sat on the couch, close enough to reach her if she needed him. His eyes didn’t leave her for a second.
He waited until she drank half of the coffee and then said quietly, ‘Siya, I’m here. Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it.’
She didn’t look up, just kept staring down at the cup in her hands. And then, Siya met his eyes and with firm determination and said, ‘I need you to marry me.’
Abhay was stunned and speechless. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the words. Time stopped around them, and he was frozen in his place, held captive by the tears shimmering in her eyes.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he had heard her right. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words were lodged in his throat. The thought that she needed him to marry her not for love or convenience, but out of necessity, made his chest tighten with prickly vines.
Abhay leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and locked eyes with her in a way that felt intimate. ‘Siya, you can’t mean that. Whatever pressure you’re under… no reason is big enough to marry someone like it’s a business deal.’
Her fingers tightened around the coffee mug, and her gaze dropped down to the floor, but she kept mum.
Abhay kept going. His voice faltered as he said, ‘Especially not someone you… not someone you pretty much hate.’
She looked back at him, and as if acting on instinct, she shook her head.
He almost regretted saying that, but couldn’t fight the truth anymore.
‘I know I hurt you, and if you do hate me, you have every right to be. Someday, I might make my peace with it. But what I can’t live with is the knowledge that you are trapped in a forced marriage with someone you can’t stand. ’
A faint muscle twitched in her jaw, but her eyes were unreadable. Abhay felt emotions choking him, and cleared his throat. He pinched the bridge of his nose when tears sprang to his eyes. Her hatred was a difficult pill to swallow.
‘I’ll talk to Dad,’ he added quickly, driven by the need to fix this for her. ‘I’ll make sure this arrangement is off the table completely. I won’t let your father back you into a corner like this.’
It wasn’t until he finished speaking that Siya set the cup down with a soft clink.
She let out a long exhale and said, ‘I was four when Kashu was born. Dad was in Hong Kong or Seoul or somewhere, charming some investors. I remember Maa was in labour for over a day, and I was outside her hospital room with my babysitter. Despite her bribes, she couldn’t take me back home. ’
A ghost of a smile flickered across her features, but it faded quickly. He was surprised that she was opening up to him, and he soaked in her vulnerable side.
‘When the nurse placed Kashu in my arms, I giggled because she had a tiny nose. Maa hugged both of us and cried, and I cried with her. Six years later, Maa passed away in a car accident, and Kashu became the centre of my universe. She followed me everywhere like a shadow, scared of losing me too. How could I explain the concept of grief and death to a six-year-old baby girl?’