Chapter - 17
Patience.
I was not unfamiliar with the word but ever since I saw my wife on the road that night, I have been practising it more than I have in the thirty five years of my being. Because if it were not for patience, I would never have been able to find her father.
The man who had ordered the killing of my parents was dealt with, by me, when I found out about him. I was twenty and he was the first and the last man I had put a bullet into.
Right between his eyes. Only Yuvaan and Daadisa know about it.
No other soul does.
It took me about thirteen years to find him because as it turned out, he was politically influential too.
Kishan Biswas. He was the biggest textile industrialist in the country of his time and he was cheating the local artists of Ratangarh.
He spoke of ethics and heritage while his factories bled the very people he claimed to uplift.
He stole the art of Ratangarh, stamped it onto expensive fabric and sold it for sums that never reached the hands that created it.
Baba had found out about it and had dragged him to court after several warnings and negotiations to stop that production and compensate the artists.
On expected lines, the Supreme Court had ruled in favour of the artists a week earlier and he had to face losses so huge that his company was almost bankrupt.
That did not sit well with him and he had a company hire a sniper to kill my family, take both my parents out.
There was another shooter who was hired too. He misfired and the bullet did not cause any harm but that did not leave him innocent. That is why Yuvaan decided to chase him while I continued to focus on finding the man who did all the damage.
But as it turned out, the other shooter's entire family was into a car accident some years back, leaving no survivors behind.
Destiny, as they say, is a leveller.
It took my men and me more than it should have to find her father because he had done a good job at hiding in plain sight. Always careful.
Always like a normal family.
Just the thought of him living with his family like he had not destroyed mine left bitterness so loud in me that the first opportunity I got to tear his priceless daughter away from him, I fucking took it.
If doing that makes me a devil, I will wear that title for the rest of my life and live with the guilt of putting an innocent girl through something she does not deserve than dishonour the lives of my parents and forgive that man.
Because if Yuvaan had to suffer all his life struggling with not knowing what parents' love means, that man will suffer for the rest of his life feeling what it feels like when the sunshine of his life is taken away from him because of something he did.
That guilt will kill him slowly, but definitely.
As for Parthvi, every time I look at her, I remember what loss feels like over and over again.
She is my double edged sword.
Because on one hand, she is the daughter of the man who took everything away I had away from me, and on the other hand, I am the man who took away everything she had from her.
I can cage her world, I can bend circumstances and I can decide walls and doors and distances but her mind remains hers.
If she ever breaks, it will not be by my hand.
That is the promise I made her in my head the day I married her.
And it is the only thing standing between my vengeance and her ruin.
She will fight me. She has already started and from what I can see, there is no way she will stop.
Good.
Because it means that she will survive me and she will survive this place which she thinks, more right that wrong, is her prison, no matter how much I keep telling her and myself that it is not.
"Ranaji, shall I serve the dinner?" I heard one of the attendants asked me, bringing me back to here in my dining room.
I looked around to see no one present.
"Where is Daadisa and Yuvaan?" I asked her.
"All of them have gone to Jaipur to attend Daadi Rani's charity dinner, Ranaji. I was told that they will be returning tomorrow morning." She replied at once.
I gave her a nod.
"Should I send Raanisa's dinner to your room, Ranaji?" Another one of them asked but before I could tell her yes, her voice answered.
"No, I'm here."
I turned my head to the side to find Parthvi stand at the threshold as she looked at the attendant who had just asked the question.
Her saree and every piece of jewellery she was wearing replaced by a pyjamas and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders over her sweater, her long pitch black hair loosened and out of the bun she had been wearing the entire day.
She then took a few steps inside and looked at the empty seats around before her eyes finally landed at me and there was a flicker of confusion.
She wanted to ask me where everyone was but then decided against and and instead of coming to sit next to me, walked to the farthest end of the table and sat right opposite me, putting as much distance as she possibly could between us as we were served dinner.
She did not look at me again. Neither did I give her a reason to but my eyes kept going back to her once in a while.
She had hardly touched anything that was served to her but she kept picking up the papads off the basket and decorating it with the cucumber, onion and tomato salad and crunched them, not caring how loud it was in a room so large and two people.
I finished my meal before her. Habit. Years of training and discipline do not loosen themselves easily. I wiped my hands, pushed my chair back slightly and waited.
She did not rush.
When she was finally done, she dusted her hands lightly, stood and adjusted the shawl around her shoulders.
"I'm going for a walk," she said.
I looked at her and nodded.
She paused for half a second, as if surprised I did not add conditions or instructions, then turned and walked out.
I followed her out but instead of walking with her to the garden she wanted to be at, I walked back to the bedroom which was dark.
I did not switch on the lights and went straight to the window and stopped there, hands clasped behind my back.
I could see the entire palace grounds from here and found her easily.
She sat by the central fountain, cross-legged on the cool stone, shawl pooled around her knees. Her hair had slipped forward again, loose and unguarded.
The rabbits came to her without hesitation.
One first. Then another. Then three.
They hopped close, sniffed, decided she was safe and climbed into her lap like it had always been theirs.
She laughed then.
The sound did not travel up to me, but I could see it in the way her shoulders loosened, the way her head tilted back slightly.
She was probably speaking to them like she did the last time I saw her there.
Her hands moved slowly, careful not to startle them. One rabbit pressed its nose into the hollow of her wrist. Another settled against her thigh.
She stayed still.
I watched her sit there, surrounded by small living things that trusted her instinctively and felt something settle and unsettle inside me at the same time.
This was the part of her I could not touch, neither did I want to.
I could decide everything that was visible.
But not this.
Not the way life seemed to gather around her when she stopped fighting it.
She did not look back at the palace.
She did not look up.
She did not check if she was being watched.
For the first time since she had entered this place, she looked uncontained.
I stood there until the night deepened and the rabbits began to scatter, one by one, disappearing back into hedges and shadows.
She remained seated for a little longer after they left, fingers trailing through the water of the fountain, eyes lowered, thoughtful.
Watching her like this, I understood something I had not allowed myself to admit before.
This was not a war I could win by force and she was not my enemy.
She would endure.
And endurance, I had learned the hard way, was far more dangerous than rebellion.
I watched her walk back along the path, shoulders slightly hunched against the night air. Guards stayed at a distance. They knew better than to hover. I had made sure of that.
When she disappeared into the shadow of the corridor leading inside, I stepped away from the window.
I sat at the desk, laptop open, screen lit with files I had not really been reading for the last half an hour and did not turn when the door opened.
She crossed the room without a word.
I heard the rustle of fabric, the pull of the comforter and the silence that came before she tugged it over her head too.
Like a child hiding from a storm.
Or from mosters.
I moved my eyes back on the screen.
I did not ask her if she wanted anything.
If I spoke, she would either fight or retreat further and tonight and I had no interest in either.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the comforter rise and fall once. Then again.
Her breathing evened out faster than I expected.
She was tired and fallen asleep faster than I had expected her to.
Once I had reviewed the documents that needed my attention, I shut the laptop and walked to the bed and sat down, leaning back against the headboard and stared ahead.
I glanced at her once more.
She had pulled the comforter tight around her shoulders, fists clenched somewhere beneath it. Even asleep, she held herself like she expected to be taken from.
I looked away. This unconscious fear was my doing and I have issues, but not taking accountability for something that happened because of my or by me was not one of them.
I stood after a while, moved to the window once more and checked the grounds out of habit.
Everything was as it should be. I picked up my phone which was lying next to the laptop and dialled Abhimanyu, the man who owned Ranawat Securites, responsible for the protection of my Palace and every family member.
And the man who came close to being a friend.
"Rudra." He said, answering in the third ring.
"Is everything fine in Jaipur? Are your best men around every single member of the family?" I asked, cutting out the formalities. They were never needed when it came to him.
"Yes, everything and everyone is fine. You know I never take chances when it comes to your family. That should not have been a question." He replied.
"I know. But I can never be too careful when it comes to them." I told him, even though he knew it already.
"They are all fine. I have eyes on them constantly." He assured me.
"Good." I said. One word. Enough.
There was a pause on the line. Abhimanyu knew me too well to believe that was the end of it.
"And Ratangarh?" he asked. "Anything I should know?"
I glanced once more at the couch before turning my back.
"Everything is fine here." I told him.
The fucker chuckled darkly.
"Lie to yourself all you want, Raisinghania but don't try to bullshit me." he said before hanging up.
Fucker.
But he was right and that was the irritating part.
Everything was not fine. Everything was merely quiet, and quiet had always been the most deceptive state of all. I had built my life on knowing the difference.
I stood there for a moment longer, staring out into the darkness until the glass reflected my own face back at me. Older than I felt or liked to admit.
Parthvi murmured something in her sleep. Something I could not make out. Just a soft sound, like her mind was running from something even rest could not outrun.
I clenched my jaw. My doing.
I straightened and walked back to the bed. Laid down this time instead of sitting, turning onto my side, back to her, eyes open to the dark.
Sleep did not come easily. It never did.
Images rose instead. A hospital corridor, all white walls and the smell of antiseptic. My father's silence when I asked him how he was, my mother's blood all over my shirt and Yuvaan in Daadisa's arms, crying his little self out.
Then another image forced its way in, uninvited.
A girl by a fountain, laughing. Rabbits in her lap and alive in a way despite the pain that had touched her.
Parthvi.
I shut my eyes harder.
________________________
Dawn had barely begun to soften the corners of the room with windows when I woke up.
5:45 AM.
Like always.
My first instinct was to scan the room.
Everything was where it should be.
Then I saw her.
The comforter had slipped off her and her a shiver ran through her body.
I was standing before anything else registered and stopped beside the couch and for a moment, I only watched her breathe.
Then I pulled the comforter up and around her properly, careful not to wake her. Tucked it in where it had loosened.
The shiver stopped.
She exhaled, slow this time.
I straightened and stepped away from her and freshened up before leaving the room to get to the gym.
That was one hour of the day I had to give myself before I could do anything else.
It had started as a simple run shortly after we lost Maa. It was an escape mechanism which eventually turned permanent.
I trained hard and by the time I was done, my thoughts would dull to something I could easily manage.
I went back to the bedroom to shower. It was seven thirty and Parthvi was still asleep.
When I walked back into the bedroom, a towel was wrapped low around my waist, skin still warm and hair damp, she had woken up.
Standing near the couch, folding the comforter until she turned to follow the sound of my footsteps.
Her eyes widened as they met mine and the comforter slipped from her hands and fell to the floor.
For half a second, she froze.
Then the colour rushed up her neck. A faint pink blooming over her cheeks that she clearly did not appreciate and turned around immediately, back to me, shoulders stiff, spine straight.
"Shameless." she announced.
Amusement tugged at the corner of my mouth. I buried it.
"I am not used to having anyone in the room." I said evenly. "Did not occur to me."
I paused and then added, "I apologise."
That seemed to throw her off more than anything else.
She did not turn back, but her shoulders eased by a fraction. Just enough for me to notice.
I moved towards the closet, giving her space, pulling on a shirt and starting to button it.
Behind me, I heard her inhale. Sharp. Then steadier.
She crossed the room, went straight to her bag and pulled out her clothes and towel, dropping the towel once, clumsily and in a hurry and walked past me.
I felt her hesitate for half a second. Felt it without looking.
Her cheeks were still pink when she caught her reflection in the mirror by the door. She scowled at herself.
Then she disappeared into the washroom and shut the door behind her.
I got dressed completely into one of my usual suits when my phone went off.
"Yuvaan." I said, receiving.
"Bhaiya, we have started back for Ratangarh. It will take us around another four hours." He told me.
"Good, I will be in the Mehta Meeting when you get back. Come see me at around six in my office." I told him.
"Of course bhaiya. I'll see you soon."
"Yuvaan, if you feel anything out of place, call me or Abhimanyu." I added.
"I will, bhai. You worry too much. Don't. We are all fine. Now go and rock that meeting. You have made all our employees stress after it for months now." He half joked before hanging up.
I was on call with my secretary when the washroom door opened again after a few minutes.
She stepped out, hair tied up, wearing another one of her jeans and a kurti.
She stopped when she saw I was still there.
I ended the call with my secretary and put the phone down.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then she made her way to the balcony and kept her towel on one of the chairs to dry before getting back inside to the couch, and picked up the comforter from the floor, folding it properly this time.
I watched her hands without meaning to and that is when I saw it.
My name written in mehendi on the inside of her palm.
Rudra.
I did not move but my otherwise irrelevant heart made me feel with a beat too loud that had nothing to do with anger or victory or revenge.
It was tradition. I knew that. A ritual she had followed because she had been made to, not because she had wanted to. My name on her skin meant nothing more than compliance.
And yet.
She must have felt my gaze.
Her fingers curled instinctively, closing into a fist. She pulled her hand back as if the air itself had turned sharp and turned her face away from me, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the window.
There it was, anger. Sheer, raw anger on her face she tried so desperately to hide.
She stacked the folded comforter back onto the couch and stood there for a second longer than necessary, shoulders squared, breathing measured, as if she was reminding herself where she was and who she was dealing with.
Then she picked up her shawl that was kept on the other side of the couch, turned around and slipped the it over her shoulders.
I should have looked away but I did not.
Her back was to me, but the tension in her posture was loud. The way her shoulders were held too straight. The way her fingers kept flexing once, twice, before curling again. As if she was trying to shake off the awareness of being seen.
Of being noticed.
I cleared my throat quietly, more to give her warning than to announce myself.
She turned.
Not fully. Just enough to look at me from the corner of her eye.
"What?" she asked, defensive, sharp.
"Nothing." I said.
It was the truth.
She frowned, like she did not believe me, like she was bracing for something else to follow. When it didn't, her expression faltered for one second.
She adjusted the shawl again. Unnecessary.
"I'll be out of your way." she said, already moving past me, her shoulder brushing my upper arm as she did, accidentally.
She stopped.
So did I.
Her shoulder was still close enough that I could feel the warmth she carried with her.
She looked up at me this time. Fully.
Her eyes were wide, startled, like she had not expected the moment to land the way it did.
"Can you watch where you're standing?" she asked, covering up her shock, insinuating that standing in my own room was somehow my fault.
I closed my eyes for one moment before reminding myself again, patience.
Because she fucking loved testing it and I had my doubts if she was even trying to, yet.
I opened my eyes again.
If I reacted the way my instincts wanted me to, this would turn into another battle she would walk away from with her chin lifted and walls reinforced.
So I did the opposite.
I stepped aside.
Just enough to give her space.
"My mistake," I said calmly for a man who was admitting that he was wrong when he was not.
Her brows knit together. That wasn't what she had expected. I could see it in the way her mouth parted slightly, like she had prepared another sharp line and now had nowhere to throw it.
She nodded once, stiff, and moved again, walking out of the room.
I sighed so early in the morning and that was most certainly a first.
My last? Something inside me said, No.