Chapter 30
Jia tried to focus on her five pending assignments at work on Friday, the final working day of the year, but in vain. There was so much looming over her head—Monica’s two emails about the blog/Mimosa collaboration that she hadn’t responded to, the conversation she needed to have with her two friends, and, worst of all, the fact that Jaiman was still not picking up the phone. She would have been concerned for his safety or health if it weren’t for his online status on WhatsApp every few hours.
He was just ignoring her, simple as that. Was he afraid she’d make him stay? Was he really so adamant on leaving that he wouldn’t talk to one of his closest friends? Or did he know that she knew he was TheReMix, and that was why he was avoiding her? He had been so drunk that night, though. Jia wasn’t sure if he remembered any part of their conversation except for his stupid, heartbreaking decision.
“Jia?” A voice made her jump in her chair. She swiveled around to find Charu and Damini standing behind her desk, their lunch boxes in hand. “Are you okay?” Damini asked, pursing her lips. “It’s lunchtime.”
Jia’s mouth fell open. “Already? I haven’t even written one article today.”
Charu bent down, one hand on Jia’s knee. “Your aura has been so off lately. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I do, actually.” She sighed. “I think I’m done.”
Damini stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Are you burned out?”
“No, more like—”
Monica walked up to her desk with her hands on her hips, her gaze stormy. “Jia! You haven’t turned in the ‘How to Find Someone to Kiss at Midnight’ article yet. It was due yesterday.”
Jia tried not to scoff. “About that, Monica. I need to tell you—”
“I want it in the copy editor’s inbox within the hour.” Monica didn’t pause; she just walked past them and back into her office.
Jia turned to Damini and Charu, who had stood up by now. “We need to talk.”
They exchanged glances. “Is everything okay?” Damini asked.
“Well, do you know about my blog?” Jia bit her lip, looking to Charu.
Charu hesitated, crumpling her dupatta in one hand. “Damini told me about it after that meeting with Monica. You’re such a good writer, Jia. Your passion for relationships really comes out on the blog, more so than in your Mimosa articles.”
Jia nodded. She filled them both in on Monica’s collaboration idea, and when she was done, Damini shook her head vehemently. “She’s using you as a shield. If the matchmaking column flops on your blog, no harm done to her. If it goes well, she’ll claim it as her brainchild.”
“I know.” Jia turned to look at the door Monica had just walked through. “Someone called me out recently on not following my dreams. And I think they’re right. I can’t let myself write these bullshit articles anymore.”
Charu nearly lost her grip on her lunch box, but she was smiling. “Are you quitting?”
Jia nodded, grinning as she got up. “I’ve already figured everything out. My sister helped. Maybe we could still get drinks every once in a while?”
“Shut up.” Damini smirked. “You won’t get rid of us that easily.”
With the support of her best friends, Jia marched into Monica’s office without knocking. It was now or never.
Monica barely even lifted her eyes from her laptop. “I hope you sent in the article to the editing team.”
“I didn’t, because I quit.”
Her boss’s neck cricked with how fast she looked up. “What?”
Jia folded her arms and grinned. “I just emailed you. I’m quitting, effective immediately.”
Monica clicked through her laptop a few times, then stood up to glare at Jia. “You’re giving up on the column? On your blog?”
“Actually, no.” Jia walked closer to the desk. “I had a lawyer read my employment contract. Mimosa has no explicit rights to anything I wrote during office hours outside of my assignments, which means Love Better with J is entirely mine.”
“That’s not possible.” Monica’s eyes narrowed. “What about the noncompete clause?”
“The clause says I can’t engage in any business activity that competes with Mimosa while I’m working here. I’ve made no money off of the blog yet, so I haven’t broken any rules.”
Monica got up from behind the desk and wiggled a finger at Jia. “If you think your cliché little blog will get anywhere without our support—”
“I’ll make it happen, Monica. Just you wait and see.” She spun around, her fingers curling around the door handle, then turned to smile at her former boss. “Congrats on the engagement, by the way. I hope you can tolerate Eshaan’s sloppy kissing for the rest of your life.”
Jia mentally cheered at the way Monica’s jaw fell open before returning to her desk and packing up her stuff. She hugged her friends goodbye and left the building, her head held high.
Now that Tanu and Anshuman were back from their vacation to the Maldives, Jia took her sister to their favorite nail salon after dinner. She’d told Tanu it was to celebrate her quitting Mimosa, but in reality, it was time to admit to someone other than Radha Sethia, at long last, that she was in love with Jaiman.
Jia had thought Tanu would be taken aback by this revelation, but her hand barely twitched as the manicurist painted her nails chocolate brown. “Congratulations,” Tanu said, her voice deadpan. “You’ve finally realized what I’ve known since we were kids.”
“What do you mean?” Jia bit her lip.
“Come on, Jia,” Tanu sighed, “it’s always been so obvious. You drop everything to be there for him, you never take your eyes off him when he’s in the room, and—the clearest sign—despite knowing he won’t approve of your matchmaking, you still tell him everything. He’s always been your person. I’m just surprised nothing’s happened between you in all the years you’ve known each other.”
Jia looked down at her half-painted pink nails. “Well…”
Tanu’s eyes widened. “Am I wrong? Did something happen?”
“Um…” Jia licked her lips, wondering how to say it. “We kissed. At your sangeet ceremony. But”—she raised her voice as her sister started to squeal—“it was only because Anshuman’s cousin egged him on, and dared him to ‘land’ me.”
Tanu blinked. “Are you joking?”
“No…?”
“Jaiman would never do something like that. I know him. You know him.”
“He’s never even had a serious relationship, Tanu—”
Tanu narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. Neither have you, and yet you’ve proven that you’re capable of falling in love.”
The manicurist set Jia’s left hand aside and took the right one. Jia wiggled her left fingers, thinking. Then she said, “Anshuman told you Jaiman’s leaving for the U.S., right? For good?”
Tanu’s hand finally trembled, smudging her nail polish in the process. She apologized to her manicurist before turning to Jia. “I thought he was going there on vacation.”
“Nope,” Jia said. “He’s moving.”
“Shit. Are—are you sure?”
“Yes. If he loved me,” Jia said, biting her lip, “why would he leave like this?”
Tanu sighed again. “Look, just talk to Jaiman. Even if that kiss meant nothing to him then, who’s to say he hasn’t fallen for you by now? You need to tell him how you feel.”
Jia leaned back against her seat. “I’ve never told anyone I love them. I’m…scared.”
The manicurist doing Tanu’s nails spoke up, her voice rich with wisdom. “Loving someone means putting hope above fear.”
“I agree,” Jia’s manicurist intoned, swiping pink polish over her final nail. “You should tell him how you feel. Life is too short to have regrets.”
“That matchmaker said I should have a plan to save the pub,” Jia said, “so he has even more reason to stay. Do you have any ideas?”
Tanu frowned. “I’m not sure. I don’t know enough about the pub to help. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.” Jia closed her eyes and rested her head back.
After their nail polish dried, Jia dropped Tanu off at her house and drove around Mumbai, hoping a breakthrough would come toher.
She had to find a way to save J’s Pub, but how? If it was truly a money thing, Jaiman could have asked Papa for a loan, or even his dad. No. This wasn’t just about finances. He’d fallen out of love with running the pub. Only a totally new strategy or game plan could change that.
She needed another perspective—someone who knew both Jaiman and the pub. She got into her car and opened Instagram, clicking over to Manoj’s comedian profile. His DMs were set to public, thankfully.
@thejiadeshpande:
Hey, it’s Jia. Need to talk to you about something. Are you free to meet tomorrow?
@manojmukundancomedy:
Oh hi! Sure, how about a Starbucks?
She DMed back, 6 pm, Juhu Tara Road Starbucks tomorrow?
It’ll all be fine,she thought as she drove home. I’ll find a way to save the pub…and us.
She had to. She would make the #JiamanProject happen, no matter what.
Had the days always been this long? Jaiman turned off Netflix after a three-hour binge, deciding he couldn’t sit through another minute of sitcoms if his life depended on it. He shifted on his couch, blankly staring at the now dark TV screen.
He had nowhere to go, nobody to be with. The pub was shut now that the decision was made, and Mr. Jha said he would start looking for a new tenant soon. It was for the best, honestly, but he’d hated the pity in his landlord’s voice when Jaiman had called him to say he wasn’t going to renew their lease.
Nobody except Jia and his parents knew that he was leaving for good. Anshuman thought he was going to America soon to visit his family after years of not seeing them, and he hadn’t spoken to Flora since the truth about her relationship came out, although she’d sent him an email invite to some new event she was doing in collaboration with Harish, probably to commemorate their love story publicly. He hadn’t bothered to read the whole email. As for Devdutt Uncle…Jaiman cursed. He didn’t know how to say goodbye to the man who’d pretty much raised him after the Patils moved to San Francisco. Hopefully, his parents hadn’t said anything to Devdutt Uncle. If they had, Jaiman was fucked.
Jia had called and texted Jaiman a few times, but he didn’t have the energy to debate his decision with her. He didn’t want anyone to change his mind, especially not her.
He went into the kitchen and rummaged in the cabinets for a packet of classic salted chips from months ago. Hopefully, they were still good. He sat down on the couch with the bowl of soft, definitely expired chips when his doorbell rang. Jaiman frowned. Did he have a package coming that he’d forgotten about?
When he opened the door, the last two men he wanted to see glared at him from the entrance: Anshuman and Devdutt Uncle. Before he could say a word, they pushed past him and into the living room.
“You liar,” Anshuman said, seething, once Jaiman had closed the front door. “You told me you’re only going there on vacation!”
Jaiman hung his head. He brought over two glasses of water for his guests while they mumbled angrily to each other, and after they were done sipping the water, Devdutt Uncle spoke. “Your mother called me this morning. She’s happy you’re going home, don’t get me wrong, but she’s concerned nonetheless, especially because your dad is so thrilled. She thought maybe I’d know what’s up with you.” His face darkened. “Imagine her shock when she discovered I knew nothing about your plans of relocating.”
“I’m sorry,” Jaiman whispered. He leaned against the glass of the balcony door. “I didn’t want you to look at me with pity or shame when I told you, so…I didn’t.”
“And you thought we just wouldn’t notice when you never came back?” Anshuman raked a hand along his hairline. “Damn it, Jaiman, we’re worried about you!”
Devdutt Uncle raised a hand to shush Anshuman. He sat down, Jaiman next to him, and said, “Maya said you refused their money, even though it would help save the pub.”
Jaiman swallowed the rock lodged in his throat. “I don’t want money. I want to leave.”
“You’re running away?” Anshuman scoffed, standing in front of the TV, his voice bordering on yelling. “Just like that?”
“Anshuman, let me,” Uncle intoned. Then he faced Jaiman, one hand stroking his mustache. “You’re certain about leaving, then? Nothing we say can stop you?”
“Yeah. I’ve made up my mind.”
Devdutt Uncle stood up, groaning as his knees cracked. “All right, then. Anshuman, let’s go home. You have the car keys?”
Jaiman looked up at Uncle in shock. Anshuman wasn’t having it, clearly, because he shook his head, his gaze fiery. “Papa, are you joking? We can’t let him leave. Giving up is for losers. And Jaiman, you’re not a fucking loser. That’s the last thing you are.”
“Really?” He gripped the sides of the couch, exhaling heavily. “Because I sure as hell feel like one. Maybe a fresh start is what I need.”
Devdutt Uncle’s jaw tightened. “I won’t stop you, because it’s not my place to. But if you ever want to come back, or you need financial support, you know we’ll be here.”
Jaiman stood up and engulfed him in a bear hug. “I love you, Uncle.”
Uncle lurched back a few feet, caught off guard, but returned the hug as tightly as he could. “Love you too, beta.”
Anshuman was still grumbling as he headed out of the apartment, and he shot Jaiman one disappointed look before walking into the lift lobby.
Jaiman held back his tears and crawled into bed, deciding a nap was in order. His phone buzzed just as he turned on the air-conditioning.
Dad:
My team has started working on the visa formalities…will call u with any and all updates. —Prabhu Patil
Formal and professional while texting, like always. Some things never changed. Jaiman almost laughed as he texted back a thank-you.
Then his phone chimed with a Google alert for “vodka and vada harish chandran,” which he’d set months ago to keep an eye on his competitor. Jaiman squinted at the headline: Here’s the List of Bollywood Celebs Attending the Braganza-Chandran Party Tomorrow!
Huh.It seemed like that impromptu event Flora had invited him to over email wasn’t at The Fairytale Café, but at Vodka Vada. Flora would be curating recipes suited to VV’s cuisine that would be exclusive to the menu only for one night. Evidently, it was the happy couple’s way of publicly announcing their relationship to the world. Go big or go home, right?
Jaiman swiped over to Flora’s email. It was a standard invitation letter, but she’d written at the very top: I miss you! Please come?
He wondered if she knew J’s Pub was closing. She probably did; Harish would have noticed or perhaps spoken to Mr. Jha about it. No doubt the landlord would love to sell more spaces to Harish so he could expand VV. If Flora knew, why hadn’t she reached out to Jaiman to confront him? Then again, Jaiman had made no effort to reply to her, either. He couldn’t blame her for being distant.
The event was tomorrow. If Jaiman really was leaving—and he knew he was—then he’d have to face Flora sooner or later. She was his best friend, for crying out loud. She deserved a goodbye.
Besides, so what if she hadn’t told him about Harish? Jaiman had hidden his feelings for Jia from her too, although she’d found out on her own. As he very well knew, telling people the truth wasn’t easy. If she loved Harish, he would have to make his peace with it.
Yes.Jaiman nodded. He’d attend the event, and then he would close out this pub chapter of his life for good. His phone buzzed, and when he looked at the notification, he did a double take. His mother had transferred 700,000 rupees into his bank account. Seconds later, a message from her popped up on the screen.
Mom: Just in case…