CHAPTER 14 Neel
Neel
It’s early morning, too early to call on Kavita, but as I jog around the park, passing her boutique with each lap, I notice the lights on inside. I want to talk about our collaboration like we planned, but this early, it’s really just an excuse to see her.
Dripping with sweat, I stop and think about whether I should go in now.
I check my watch, wondering if it’s too early to drop by without calling first. After a moment’s hesitation, I decide to take a chance.
I push open the gate and step inside, only to be startled by a man rushing toward me from the side of the building, waving a sickle.
Surprised and a little freaked out, I instinctively back up a few steps.
I hadn’t anticipated being greeted by a man with a sickle, of all things. I brace myself, unsure of what to expect next. I just hope Kavita is alright and that this unusual situation isn’t a sign of trouble.
“Boutique is closed, sir,” the man says, puffing as he stands before me. It takes a moment to realize that this is Ramu, the guard who had barged into Kavita’s boutique the last time I was here.
“I just need to speak to Kavita,” I explain.
“Sorry, sir, the boutique’s closed,” he repeats in broken English.
As I try to make my way forward, Ramu holds up his sickle like a weapon and stands in my path, not budging. Just then, the front door bursts open, and Kavita appears, hands on her hips. “Ramu!” she yells.
The towering giant of a man turns around, lowers his sickle, and mumbles, “Ma’am, I told sir boutique’s closed.”
“It’s okay. You can let him in,” Kavita says.
Ramu turns back to me, flashes a grin revealing his missing front tooth, and steps aside. “You can go, sir.”
“Thanks, Ramu,” I smile, patting his shoulder as I walk in.
Kavita is wearing a thin cotton sleep shirt with her hair in a messy top knot. I notice her puffy eyes with dark circles underneath. She doesn’t look like her usual cheerful self.
I want to pull her into my arms and pick up where we left off the other night. But does her upset face have something to do with that? Does she regret what happened and never want to see me again?
She takes in my sweat-soaked appearance and worried look. “Is everything okay?”
I realize I’m staring and clear my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you so early.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I know I’m not looking my best right now. I was working late, and...I’m still at it.” She sighs, pushing a hand over her forehead, causing a few strands of hair to fall over her face. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone this early.”
I fight the urge to tuck her hair behind her ears. She looks tired and upset. I know I shouldn’t be disturbing her, but I can’t help but ask, “Is something wrong? I know I probably won’t be much help, but is there anything I can do?”
She lets out another sigh and shakes her head, waving her hand toward the inside. “I doubt anyone can help. It’s just a mess in here.”
Through the slightly ajar door, I can make out the reams of fabric all over the floor. It does look like a mess. “I’m sorry to barge in like this unannounced, but let me help you clean up.”
She steps back, still shaking her head. I take that as a hint to follow her through the door.
“What happened here?”
“One of my brides is getting married today. Her dress wasn’t fitting her because she had lost some weight.
She came in for a last-minute lehenga fitting late last night and accidentally stepped on the hem of her lehenga.
It ripped off the delicate embroidery along the bottom.
I’ve been trying to fix it up all night. ”
“You’ve been working all night?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to trouble the staff, so I decided to take on the repair myself. Bad idea!” She flops on the couch and exhales. “I have to send this back in two hours, and I’m still not done.” A tear rolls down her cheek. She gives it a frustrated swipe and huffs.
I’ve never seen her so upset. “Hey!” I go to her side. “No need to worry. You’ll finish it.”
“I can’t,” she says, squeezing the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“I can’t do this. I should have called someone to help me last night.
I hate to call on staff after hours, but I should have known better than to try to make this work and manage all of this on my own.
What was I thinking? I don’t know what I’m going to do... and what am I going to tell the bride?”
“Hey! Hey! You’ll be fine.” I gently squeeze her shoulder. “Look at me.”
She looks up, teary-eyed. She looks exhausted and miserable, and my heart goes out to her.
“First things first, you need to take a step back, breathe, and look at it calmly. Where’s the tear?”
I help her lift the heavy lehenga off the ground. She shows me the torn part. The beautiful embroidery looks pretty messed up.
“I’ve been trying to restitch some of it myself, but the fabric is so delicate. I can’t work it back into the existing design. I’ve been trying to get it right, but it just ends up looking terrible.”
Something has to work, I think, racking my brain. “I’m no fashion expert,” I say finally, “but can you hide it somehow?”
“Hide it?” she repeats, blinking, then her eyes widen. “I guess I could put on—” A moment later, she gets up and heads to her studio.
She returns with a beautiful long piece of lace. “Maybe this would work, fingers crossed,” she says, taking a deep breath as she holds the lace next to the lehenga’s hem. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it...I’m...I’m such an idiot!”
“You’re just tired and overworked. You needed a break, that’s all.”
She smiles, and she looks like the sun peeking out on a rainy day. Soon, she’s at her sewing machine, holding the lehenga and the lace fabric together. The lehenga is so big and awkward that she has to struggle to hold it in place.
“Looks like you could use an extra pair of hands,” I say. “I can hold the fabric steady for you while you work on the hem. Would that help?”
Kavita’s eyes light up with relief. “Actually, that would be a huge help. It’s hard to do this on my own. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
I smile. “Not at all. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
I position myself next to Kavita, gently holding the fabric in place as she works on stitching the lace over the hem.
As I watch her nimble fingers work, my mind drifts back to the moment she landed on my lap. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stand still. I can’t help but wonder: if her mother hadn’t called, would we have kissed?
I know she called me a friend, but I’ve spent so many nights lying awake, thinking about the spark that ignites between us every time we meet. It’s rekindled feelings I haven’t experienced in years.
Whenever I close my eyes, it’s her face I see, her laughter that echoes in my mind. It makes me want to shed the cautious, reserved shell I’ve been in since my divorce.
Kavita clears her throat, and I realize the fabric has slipped from my hand. Quickly, I snap out of my thoughts and refocus on holding the material steady.
“Everything okay?” she asks, glancing up at me.
“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble, hoping she can’t read the thoughts racing through my mind. “Just got distracted for a second.”
She’s finally done, and she scrutinizes it to see if it looks all right. Finally satisfied, she says, “I think this looks fine. I mean, it doesn’t come that close to what we had, but it’s still pretty. And we’re almost on time!”
“Well done!” I say.
She gives me a beaming smile. “All thanks to you.” She heads off to pack the lehenga while I make my way over to the pantry.
I find tea bags on the shelf and set about making some tea. When I get back to her, she’s already changed into a different outfit, her lehenga is packed, and she is ready to go.
“Would you like some tea?” I offer.
She looks at me gratefully. “That would be awesome!” And then she hugs me, literally melting against me as she gives me a tight embrace. She steps back. “Thank you for helping me!”
Then, she takes the tea I hold out and takes a long sip, color slowly returning to her cheeks.
I ask, “How will you deliver the lehenga?”
“I don’t know,” she says, taking another long sip of her tea. She glances at her watch. “I only have about ten minutes to get there. That’s not much time.”
“Can I give you a ride?”
She looks at me quizzically, eyeing my workout clothes. I know I’m in no position to take her, especially since I don’t have my car with me.
“I still remember how to ride your scooter,” I add with a grin.
She laughs—the first I’ve heard since I walked in the door, and it warms my heart in a way nothing has in what feels like a long time.