22. New Moon
22
New Moon
Vera
“ A nd we’re shooting the scenes over there, Nanu,” Vera chirped, pointing in the distance where her team was busy working. “And these sarees drying here were all hand-dyed. We are showcasing handlooms and crafting from this village.”
“Looks like a bridal saree.”
“It is! Good eye, Nanu,” Vera beamed, rewarding her grandfather with a massive smile. She looked down into her phone, turning the camera over so he could see her again. He smiled back at her, a small, timid sort of response in comparison to what she’d have expected. He looked tired, his skin a little grey, his body frailer in recent months. The doctors had warned her of what was to come. Nearly a decade since Nanaji had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and in that time, the disease had whittled down her previously active and independent grandfather into someone who needed assistance for the simplest tasks .
The initial slowing of his body or tremors had been chalked up to his age. But shortly after her eighteenth birthday, his health had deteriorated so quickly that they’d been forced to sell all their assets in Nagpur to pay for healthcare. Those had been some of the darkest days of her life—not knowing if Nanu would pull through, where they’d get financing to move to a better hospital, where they’d live even. Vera tried not to think about those nights when she was afraid to go to sleep because she didn’t know if she’d wake up an orphan.
She shook her head, forcing the dark clouds away before they threatened to douse her with the same fears again. Despite his ill-health, Nanaji was still perceptive enough that any hint of trouble in her life worried him too.
“We-we. . . should b-buy it,” he rasped. She watched as a nurse helped him drink some water. “It will b-be useful when y-you get married.”
“That again. Stop worrying about my marriage, please.”
“H-how could I? Life is t-too long to live alone, beta.”
“I’m not alone,” she insisted, turning away from where her team could still see her. She walked farther inside where rows upon rows of sarees, kurtas and dresses hung on the clotheslines above, dyed in a rainbow of brilliant hues. “I have you, I don’t need anyone else.”
Unbidden, an image of Vihaan winking at her as he passed by her desk flashed across her mind and her lips curved up automatically.
“I w-won’t be a-around forever.”
Instantly, the buoyancy she’d felt transformed into a dense lump in her throat, making it hard to speak.
“Don’t say things like that. I’ll visit you tomorrow, ok? I’ll bring you some of those samosas from Kishorilal Sweets. You love those.”
“W-who?”
“The family-run business next to the old apartments we were in? Their grandson used to come over for help with his homework in the evenings. ”
The glaze in his eyes told Vera that he was undergoing a bout of memory lapse. Yet another indicator of Ambernath’s Parkinson’s progressing. It had started slow but his forgetfulness with items had eventually transitioned to forgetting events, even people. Time would always stand still for Vera in those moments because Nanu looking at her like she was a stranger had felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs too tight.
“I. . . I don’t know what we’re talking about,” Nanu stammered, his expressions twisting in confusion, a slight flare of panic on his face.
“It’s ok. I’ll bring pictures,” she reassured him, weaving in between two long fluttering pieces of clothing. “And then—”
With an oomph, she crashed into the person standing hidden behind the last row. Her phone clattered to the ground, and she would have joined suit, had it not been for a pair of firm hands gripping her by the arm and pulling her close.
A familiar woodsy scent filled her senses, spicy and warm. Wood and musk.
She glanced up, and sure enough, Vihaan was there, dressed no differently for this little outdoor shoot than he would have been for a busy day at Ethos. The navy coat, black loafers and dark aviators made him look every bit the media magnate he was stated to be.
They’d not been this close and alone since they’d spent the night together, and their sudden proximity had her stomach twisting nervously. Her heart raced, feeling his firm muscles jump under her palms where they rested upon his chest.
His fitted jackets would be the death of her. What was it about the aesthetic of power through a well-stitched suit that made a man look so desirable? Was it the illusion of competence or her knowledge that it wasn’t a facade with Vihaan that made her feel this way? She had the insane urge to run her hands up his lapels, loop them around his neck and—
Nanu’s muffled voice coming through the speaker broke her trance. Before she could retrieve her phone, Vihaan bent down and swiped it up. The instant he realised who it was, he smiled.
“Hi Nanaji,” he greeted happily. “How have you been?”
“F-fine.”
Vera put her hand out for her phone, angrily huffing when Vihaan turned away.
“I can’t believe I’m getting to speak with you today. I have been wanting to come see you. Can I?”
“No!” Vera barked, snatching her phone back. She wished her grandfather a hurried goodbye before facing Vihaan again, pretending that the thought of him meeting Nanu hadn’t sent her into a panic.
“When did you get here?” she asked.
“A little while ago. You were busy.”
“I didn’t think you’d be coming,” she admitted.
“I didn’t realise you thought about me at all.” Do you? The look he shot her spoke volumes.
“I don’t,” she lied, trying to control the waver in her voice. “Because I don’t like you.”
“Get that tattooed somewhere. Then you won’t have to keep repeating it,” he sneered.
“ Mister Ob—”
“Why did you look like you were going to cry?” he interrupted impatiently.
“I wasn’t.”
He didn’t look convinced. “How come Nanaji seemed. . . I don’t know. . . It was like he didn’t recognise me.”
Vera shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. “Should he have?”
“He knew me all my life.”
“You look different now.”
“He also seemed a little tired. Is he ok? ”
“He’s fine. Look,” she huffed, arms folded across her chest. “I’m trying to be civil but there is no need to start quizzing me about my personal life.”
“He meant something to me too,” Vihaan shot back, hands in his pockets. “I have a right to ask about him.”
“No, you don’t. Until two months ago, you had no idea if he was even alive. Don’t pretend you gave him a single thought all these years.”
Or me, she almost added. She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive stance, tipping her chin up insolently when he gave her a once over, as if he knew exactly what she was doing. Picking a fight was the easiest way to keep someone from peering into the mess that was her life.
Vihaan’s face darkened, his lips tightening into a frown. “You have no clue what I have and have not given thought to.”
“Enlighten me,” she said, the sarcasm heavy.
“Would you believe me?”
“No, so it's best to drop this topic.” She waved him off, indicating that she was done with the conversation. For an instance, it looked like he would argue. Then, as though he’d changed his plan of attack, his features relaxed and he shot her a sweet smile that had her doing a double-take.
“You don’t want to discuss Nanu? Fine. Let’s talk about you instead.”
“What about me?” she asked suspiciously.
“What’s it going to take for me to get you into bed again?”
Her jaw unhinged, a furious zing shooting through her body at that unexpected question. “Huh?”
“Haan?” His brows almost shot off his forehead. “I didn’t think you’d agree so easily.”
“I didn’t say haan!” she snapped, refusing to turn pink, knowing that her efforts were futile when she felt a furious bloom of heat settle upon the apples of her cheeks .
Vihaan tilted his head to grin playfully at her. “Then you need to mumble less. Unless your mouth is full of me.”
She slapped one hand over her eyes, frustrated with herself for wanting to giggle like a brainless flamingo because she was certain she matched the damned bird in colour. Still, she instilled some firmness in her tone when she glared at him. “This is harassment, you know?”
Vera wondered if she’d imagined the slight dimming of his smile.
“You’re right,” he said. “I seem to be terrible at being your boss. Maybe you’ll quit?”
Her annoyed reaction was immediate. She raised her foot and brought it down hard, trying to stomp on his expensive shoes, but he was too quick. He shuffled back, side-stepping her swat, swivelling and dodging her angry attempts to punch him. For the next several minutes, it was as though Vihaan and Vera had reverted to being children again. They dodged and weaved through the fluttering clothes as Vera rained curses at him and he ran ahead, mocking her, teasing her, laughing when she was unable to catch him. Frustrated with his evasion she spun in a huff, ready to stomp away when she heard the quick approach of feet behind her. His arm banded about her stomach like an iron vise, pulling her back flush to his chest.
“Let me go, you douche-goblin!” she spat, still out of breath. It didn’t help that she could feel every firm muscle of his body pressed against her now. Her chest heaved with the effort to draw air into her lungs, bringing her breasts to rest on his forearm. A couple inches upwards, and he could grab. . .
She almost cried at her unruly thoughts, going still when his lips brushed against the outer whorls of her ear.
“I may be terrible at being your boss,” he muttered softly. “But you are equally bad at treating me like other employees do, especially with the creative insults you seem to tailor just for me. Have you ever wondered why?”
“Because you’re a pain-in-the-ass dipshit, that’s why! ”
To her surprise, he chuckled and released her.
She should have been offended. She should have been raging at him for speaking to her this way. Instead, it felt . . . Damnit, it felt good. His presence was like a drug injected into her veins that made her crave an interaction with him. Being flirted with by someone who refused to be cowed by her made her feel like a young schoolgirl experiencing her first crush. It was so easy to be with Vihaan, bickering and bantering like they’d never grown up. She’d forgotten how carefree she used to feel around him and somehow, even today, he managed to unearth a childishness in her that she’d never been able to harness with anyone else. Her heart ached, confused between fondness and fear for this man she had so much history with. Their past was shadowed by a bad end, but not all of her time with him had been bad.
She took in his visage, his cheeky grin and pinkened skin, and she almost smiled back.
This was ridiculous. She was a strong woman who shouldn’t be swayed by reckless flirtations and adoring grins.
And she wasn’t. Usually.
Vihaan may have been her worst mistake. But he was also the only exception to all her rules.
“Stop smiling at me!” she barked, flustered with the way her body was reacting to him. With the way her mind wanted to let him in. With how she wanted to cry at having lost him when she’d never truly had him at all.
“Why?”
“It’s weird. We don’t smile at each other.”
His bark of laughter set off wild flutters within her. “You’re a suspicious woman.”
“It’s how I have survived.”
“How exactly is that?”
She speared him with a look: honest, a little sad, entirely serious.
“By maintaining my boundaries.”