Chapter 32
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Naomi asked in a hushed voice as Cynthia led her into her parents’ home.
Cynthia glanced over her shoulder to where Naomi was literally creeping along on tiptoes and rolled her eyes.
“You don’t have to sneak around. We’re not doing anything illegal.
This is my parents’ home.” Still, Cynthia took a quick survey of the empty foyer before leading her friend into her dad’s office.
Because she did feel kind of sneaky. Normally, Cynthia relied on the printers at Kumar Construction, but having avoided the office for a whole week now, she needed to print her resignation letter.
She couldn’t tamp down the childish little thrill, however, over printing it in the CEO’s personal office.
But there was fear there, too. She’d hitched herself to her father’s legacy for almost fifteen years. It was all she’d ever known, all she thought she’d ever have to know to get where she wanted to go.
Without her father’s company, Cynthia wasn’t sure what she was anymore and although the knowledge—or lack thereof—was a tender pressure point between her shoulder blades, her hands moved determinedly as she connected her laptop to the printer.
She’d figure it out. She always did.
As the devices paired together, Cynthia looked up to see Naomi edging into her father’s office. “You should probably put on some gloves or something, so you don’t leave fingerprints.”
When Naomi glared back, Cynthia laughed. “Seriously, if you’re that uncomfortable, you don’t have to be here with me,” she added. “You can wait outside.”
“Of course I have to be here. You’re leaving your father’s company, which you’ve been with your entire career. This is a big deal and you need moral support.”
Cynthia shot her a dubious look even as her heart swelled at the words. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to have inspired this level of loyalty and friendship in the people around her, but the flare of gratitude she felt in moments like these shocked her system every time.
But she welcomed them— needed them.
“Don’t worry, I’m chill,” Naomi said, sitting down on the love seat sofa in the corner of the room. She looked anything but calm as she perched on its edge, ready to bolt. “Are you almost done?”
“So chill,” Cynthia teased, her words swallowed by the printer—an older model purchased at least twenty years ago—spitting out Cynthia’s resignation.
Cynthia pulled it off the tray and silently reread its contents.
A fifteen-year tenure ended in five lines and three sentences.
It was formal and to the point, but it didn’t feel complete.
It was missing something Cynthia wasn’t sure she could express on a standard 8⒈／⒉-by-11-inch letter even though the feelings were coded on the most fragile parts of her heart.
She’d held back too many things for so long. Too long.
“Cynthia?” Naomi asked.
“What?” Cynthia’s head jerked up. She hadn’t heard Naomi move across the room to join her behind her father’s desk.
“It’s okay to have feelings about this. Like I said, it’s a big deal, even if you’re leaving on good terms.” Naomi paused. “You are leaving on good terms, aren’t you?”
“Who’s leaving on good terms?” Cynthia’s mother asked as she walked through the office door. “Oh, Naomi! How nice to see you again. How was that event you went to? What earrings did you pair with the silver necklace Cynthia picked out? I bought that necklace on a trip to Toronto.”
Naomi smiled politely. “It was lovely, thank you. Cynthia has excellent taste.”
Sipra laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment! My daughter has never had much interest in traditional clothes. I picked out all those items in her closet.”
Naomi and Cynthia exchanged awkward glances as her mother approached Cynthia’s side, her eyes glancing at the paper clutched in Cynthia’s hands. “You’re leaving?” she asked in surprise.
When Cynthia didn’t answer right away, Naomi cleared her throat. “I think I’ll go upstairs and try on more of Cynthia’s excellent wardrobe.”
“I know what you’re going to say but I can’t work there anymore,” Cynthia said once Naomi had departed. Her throat tightened around the admission, but she was on a roll. “I’ve already wasted too many years there working toward nothing and—”
“ Bas ,” her mother said, her hand coming to rest gently on Cynthia’s biceps.
Cynthia flinched. “Let me guess. You’re happy that I’m going to finally stop fixating on my career and focus on more important things—”
Her mother tightened her grip, and, somehow, the pressure on Cynthia’s arm became soothing. “I said stop,” Sipra said, her voice firm. “You always think you know what everyone is thinking, how everyone will react.”
“What?”
“You’ve always been this way, ever since you were a little girl.
Always trying to anticipate everything, plan for everything, and feel in control.
” A bittersweet smile pulled at Sipra’s lips.
“I’ve never seen a child so observant and…
hyperaware of everything and everyone around her.
” Pinning her daughter with a long look, Sipra added in a softer voice, “Except of herself, maybe.”
Cynthia’s eyebrows knit together as her mother tapped a long, square-tipped nail on the surface of the letter.
“I’m glad you’re leaving,” Sipra said.
“So I can focus on finding a husband?” Cynthia cringed at how bitter the attempt at humor sounded in her ears.
Her mother shook her head impatiently. “So you can focus on being happy .”
Cynthia’s mouth popped open in surprise, earning her a sad smile from her mother. “You think you know me, and I don’t know you,” Sipra said. “But I know more than you think. You might be intelligent, talented, and successful at what you do at your father’s company, but you’re not happy there.”
“That’s not…” Cynthia swallowed hard. Her mother’s words stung because they were true . “How are you so sure?”
“You’re not the only observant one, you know.” Sipra moved to sit on the love seat and patted the empty space next to her.
Shyly, Cynthia joined her mother and stared down at her clasped hands. “Kumar Construction was never going to be mine, was it?”
Sipra shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t involve myself in your father’s business decisions, but not for the reasons you think. I might not live the life you want, Cynthia, but I live my life on my terms and I don’t answer to anyone.”
Cynthia’s eyes widened as she studied her mother’s calm, confident gaze, the proud arch in her neck.
“And I think you need to start doing the same,” Sipra added, lightly pinching Cynthia’s chin between her thumb and index finger.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Would you have listened?” Her mother slid her arm around Cynthia’s shoulders, softening the rebuke. “I think you’ve always had a singular vision of success in your head, and I’m not sure I could’ve changed that.”
“You could’ve tried!”
Sipra nudged her playfully. “Cut me some slack. It took me a while to realize that pushing you to want the same things that made me happy—marriage, kids, a comfortable, domestic life—wasn’t going to work for you. You’re a smart woman, I wanted you to figure out your life for yourself.”
Cynthia crossed her arms over her stomach and fought the overwhelming urge to cuddle into her mother’s side. “What if I don’t know what I want?”
“You don’t always have to know, but be honest with yourself for a second. Is taking over for your father going to make you happy?”
It was something she’d asked herself many times, a question that had been a guiding principle to…
Cynthia closed her eyes in dismay. To every goddamn thing I’ve ever done.
Hearing the question come from someone else—her mother , of all people—sent a shock wave through Cynthia.
It was like hearing the acoustic version of a well-known song, a little dissonant but simple and honest.
“No,” Cynthia said slowly. “No. I don’t suppose taking over Dad’s company is going to make me happy.”
“Then what will?”
Rohit.
The answer came to her in a rush of tenderness that made her chest expand and her heartbeat hum in agreement.
The truth was so unbelievably obvious, as was the overpowering certainty that she loved him so much.
It was belly-laughing, ugly-crying, showing-up-no-questions-asked, kneeling-before-someone’s-feet kind of love, and Cynthia had never felt so certain about anything in her life.
Without a doubt, it was him.
“Rohit,” Cynthia said in a voice that wasn’t her own but a conviction that came from deep within.
“Rohit makes me happy.” The acknowledgment undid something in Cynthia, and she gave in to the temptation to lean into her mother’s side.
“I’ve been awful to him,” she added. “I’ve shown him the worst sides of myself. ”
“Cynthia, you’ve always tried too hard to be perfect.
You’re always in your head, trying to stay ahead and never make an error.
” Sipra pulled away and placed both hands on Cynthia’s shoulder, leveling her with an even look.
“My smart, ambitious girl. You are more than your mistakes; maybe it’s time to forgive yourself and move on. ”
“You’re talking about what happened with Jimmy when I was a teenager, aren’t you?”
“Among other things,” Sipra said with a soft smile, pulling Cynthia into her side again.
Her familiar perfume wrapped around Cynthia, but for once, it wasn’t too flowery and feminine for Cynthia’s taste.
Because beneath the expensive notes of bergamot, jasmine, and a hint of peach were new aromas she’d never noticed before: courage, strength, compassion.
Love.
Her mother kissed the top of her head. “I know you’ve always wanted to be like your dad…But I think there’s plenty of me in you, too. And that makes me proud.”
“So, what do you think I should do about Rohit?” Cynthia gazed up at her mother, afraid to close her eyes and confront his stricken face stamped across the back of her eyelids. “He has every right to never talk to me again.”
Sipra squeezed her tighter. “I think you should listen to your heart, for once.”
It was good advice and long overdue. Cynthia was in the midst of relaxing into her mother’s embrace again when a random thought occurred to her and she jerked upright.
“Hang on a second,” she said, studying her mother’s serene face.
“You didn’t react when I told you Rohit makes me happy. Why aren’t you more shocked?”
Her mother shot her a look that was brimming with an impatience Cynthia knew too well, and despite everything, she suddenly felt like laughing. “Didn’t you hear what I said earlier?” Sipra said. “You’re not the only observant one in this family.”