Chapter 13 #2
“I think…I’ve had it easy,” he said. “But I don’t take it for granted, believe me. I know how lucky I am to work here.” Rohit swallowed uneasily, wondering how Cynthia would react if she knew exactly how lucky Rohit counted himself to be.
“Well, you worked hard to get to where you are,” Cynthia pointed out. “An MBA isn’t easy to get.”
Rohit took a long sip of water. “No, it isn’t.”
“So, while I run off to make billions with TeamStart, what’s your next move?”
“What do you mean?”
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “What’s your end goal at Kumar Construction? You don’t want to be a client manager forever, do you?”
Rohit was saved from answering right away by the server slinging their plates onto the table with a lack of grace that suited the Pipe and Straw’s casual-bordering-on-careless vibe perfectly.
The overhead lighting was poor, the picture frames on the wall dusty, and the food greasy but flavorful.
But as Cynthia dug into her chicken pot pie, Rohit contemplated his oversized plate of fish and chips, his appetite a distant memory.
Since joining Kumar Construction, he’d never given much thought to his future.
Everything he did was about the now, and now needed money.
Supporting his family was a perpetual game of catch-up with little room for forward thinking.
And he never felt like he was on the winning side; he was constantly behind and out of breath, his financial obligations fisting his lungs with a relentless grip.
“I don’t have any plans,” he said. To his ears, it sounded pathetic, and from the tilt of Cynthia’s head, he could tell she didn’t believe him.
“You don’t think about your future?”
Under Cynthia’s curious gaze, Rohit blushed, but it wasn’t embarrassment coursing through him.
Cynthia wore her ambition like a second skin, but there was zero judgment in her bright amber eyes as she waited for him to answer.
Her kindness startled him, but in a pleasant way: Rohit felt like he was back on that ramp outside the office, where those few moments with Cynthia had felt like a reprieve from worrying about money, and job security, and the pressure of holding his family’s world on his shoulders.
Taking the blame for her mistake negated everything he’d tried to build for himself at Kumar Construction, and yet he couldn’t regret it.
“No, I don’t think about my future very often.
I think about my family’s future and what their lives will look like.
I worry about taking care of them and making sure they’re provided for.
” Rohit shook his head, uneasy at where his words were taking him.
But Cynthia seemed to have a pull on him that ran much deeper than lust and attraction; he felt the need to bare himself to her, including the parts of him he was usually so careful to keep tucked away.
“Sometimes taking care of my family is all I think about. That’s weird, right? ”
To his surprise, Cynthia’s face softened and she reached out to touch him again , only this time, her hand covered his on the tabletop and stayed there . Rohit hoped she couldn’t hear his sharp intake of breath even as he willed himself to stay very, very still so she wouldn’t pull away.
“I think that’s very hard,” she said. “It’s a sense of purpose but a complicated one that, in a way, has nothing to do with you or what you want.”
“What I want,” he repeated with a bitter laugh. When was the last time he’d thought about what he wanted? There was no room for want living in a new country when his peace of mind depended on the well-being of people living thousands of kilometers away.
Cynthia tilted her head to the side and waited.
“Had things been different,” Rohit said slowly, “I probably would have pursued a career in architecture.”
“So go back to school.”
Rohit half smiled. He didn’t doubt for a second that this determined, willful person sitting across from him believed in the simplicity of making such a decision. If Cynthia wanted something, she found a way to get it.
But that wasn’t his reality. And the thought of his grandmother’s medical bills and the extra help his sister needed to get by in school filled him with fresh guilt, pulled him back from the edge of honesty where one could so easily stumble, fall, and lose everything.
“Maybe one day,” he agreed quietly.
“Well, having an MBA under your belt opens doors,” Cynthia reminded him, lowering her eyes. “And your family must be so proud of you. That has to feel good.”
Momentarily distracted by his phone buzzing insistently on the table, Rohit let out a strangled laugh when he caught sight of the screen.
“Their ears must be burning because they’re calling me right now.
” Although the interruption was likely a blessing in disguise to save him from revealing too much, Rohit hesitated as his finger hovered to accept the call. “Do you mind?”
Cynthia returned her attention to her meal. “Go ahead.”
“Rohit? It’s so noisy! Where are you?” Maisa demanded as soon as their video connected. In the background, his parents were squished together just off to the side as they tried to peer over his sister’s shoulder.
“I’m at a pub.” Rohit did a quick scan of the room with the screen facing outward before turning it toward himself again.
“Ask him if they have Kingfisher beer,” his father’s voice urged from the background.
“Dad, he can hear you,” his sister replied, rolling her eyes at Rohit.
“It’s an English pub,” Rohit said dryly. “Of course they have Kingfisher beer.”
The sarcasm was lost on his dad, who grinned with pleasure at the news that his favorite brand of Indian beer had made its way to Canada, but Maisa knew better and smiled back cheekily.
“How’s the butter chicken?” she asked.
Before Rohit could reply, his mother’s face pushed forward, edging his sister out. “Who was that?”
“Who?” Rohit asked.
“The girl you’re sitting with. The pretty one.”
Rohit’s eyes flew to Cynthia, who had obviously heard the question if her smirk was any indication.
“Just a coworker, Mom,” Rohit answered.
“Well, introduce us,” his sister prodded from off-screen. Rohit did not need to see Maisa’s face to know she wore an impish grin. Little sisters .
To Rohit’s surprise, amusement danced across Cynthia’s face, and she waved a hand before wiping her mouth with a napkin. “It’s fine. I’d love to meet them,” she said.
A flutter of nerves rolled up Rohit’s spine and, in an unnaturally high voice, he said, “Uh, well, this is Cynthia Kumar. We work together. Like, not together but at the same company. Although we are working on a project togeth—”
On-screen, his mother and sister traded glances.
“Stop rambling and turn the phone around,” Maisa commanded, her impatient face squished back into the frame, doe eyes bright with amusement and curiosity.
Rohit obeyed while mouthing an apology to Cynthia, but her attention was focused on his family.
“Hi,” Maisa said, her voice turning shy despite having initiated the introduction.
His mother, however, had no such issue. She never did. “I was right. You are very pretty.”
“Yes, well, it takes a lot of work,” Cynthia said with mock seriousness, earning her a round of appreciative laughs from her nosy audience, and Rohit couldn’t help but sit back in his chair, a little dazed.
She never failed to knock his world off its axis.
Rohit watched Cynthia listen intently as his family introduced themselves, her attention never wavering as if every single person was worth committing to memory, whether she ever talked to them again or not.
He’d known that Cynthia’s roster of clients and service providers adored her, but he’d never seen her in action like this.
Her trademark confidence and quick mind were no surprise, but there was something else Rohit couldn’t quite pinpoint except that whatever it was, it was irresistible and made him feel a little dizzy.
Every layer of this woman was more dazzling than the one before.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” she said once the introductions were over.
“So, tell us,” his mother said. “What is our Rohit like at work?”
Rohit groaned as Cynthia plucked the phone out of his hand. He realized this was his parents’ way of understanding—and being part of—his life, but the distance made it no less embarrassing. Cynthia’s gaze was soft, though, when she shot him a quick, teasing glance before replying.
“Oh, I’m sure you know,” Cynthia said. “Friendly to the point of being annoying. Always in a good mood, even on Monday mornings. Drinks the last bit of coffee and forgets to refill the pot.”
Rohit dragged his chair around the table, so he was in the camera frame beside Cynthia. “That happened once .”
His sister hooted. “Sounds like him! Mom used to ask him to fetch the clothes off the line and sometimes he’d only grab his!”
Cynthia gasped and shook her head at Rohit, her shoulder bumping his. “I’m not surprised in the least.”
From somewhere in the background outside the camera, Rohit’s father chuckled. “She’s feisty. I like her.”
“You think that’s bad?” his mother chimed in. She twisted her long hair into a bun, as if preparing for battle. “Let me tell you about the time I asked him to go to the market during a cricket match…”
Rohit covered his face with his hands as Cynthia leaned forward eagerly, the motion pressing her entire arm against his. But as his mother began an exaggerated retelling of his childhood antics, he couldn’t help but grin into his palms. Because he kind of liked it.
And as Cynthia let out a deep belly laugh, he realized he liked it a lot.