Chapter 24 Vedveer - Where the Heart Is! #2
He doesn’t nod. No yes or no either; he reaches for the intercom behind him. I don’t hear him speak, but a few seconds later, he directs me to the door. He isn’t smiling.
Good, loyal team.
I like that I knew where Aaditha would be. Ratan had lost her, too, so I took a wild guess! Maybe not so wild.
I know so little about her daily routine, I could maybe count them on one hand – coffee connoisseur, wine drinker, lover of denims, likes to hang out at Lakshmi Bar, is not opposed to hiding behind a costume to avoid attention. Though the last two are not a part of her regular regimen.
The manager holds the door open for me before pulling it shut behind him.
‘Did you just get back?’ I ask Aaditha’s back.
‘I didn’t hear you,’ she says, spinning around. ‘Mohit, whom you’ve met before, just called. I couldn’t hear him clearly. I thought you were on the way.’
I’m exhaling a storm, offering libations in my head. She hasn’t thrown me out!
‘Apologies,’ I say quickly. ‘I knocked.’
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I took a chance,’ I say.
Her face is as blank as an untouched school board on the first day of the year, but the dip at the base of her neck is pronounced.
‘I drove your father’s car,’ I say.
She smiles; the light catches her eye. ‘I’m impressed! First taste of my city’s infamous traffic snarls?’
Her smile is infectious. ‘It’s not so bad, actually,’ I say.
She exhales, and her shoulders drop a tad as she points at the chair beside me.
Between us stands a heavy mahogany desk, and heavier still, the weight of unspoken confessions.
‘I want to talk to you, Aaditha.’
She nods. ‘Can I get you something to eat or drink?’
Yamazaki on the rocks would’ve been good. ‘I’ll have a coffee,’ I say.
‘You don’t have to punish yourself,’ she says. ‘We have tea, too – the bags you left behind the last time you were here.’
‘My behaviour is inexcusable.’ I stop, the words catching in my throat. I shake my head, voice barely steady. ‘And that’s just the beginning.’
Her shoulders shift in a gentle motion. She leans back in her seat. Her tiny frame has taken up all the space in my head.
‘Would those bags be stale? It’s a couple of months already,’ she asks.
‘It will hold,’ I say.
‘Tea, then?’
‘No, your coffee.’ A cup of my to-be-wife’s coffee every once in a while would be good for the system.
Aaditha orders just the one coffee.
‘Do you not want a cup for yourself?’
‘I have had six cups already!’
The double-shot, bone-dry cappuccino arrives, and I take a sip immediately.
I clear my throat and clutch the cup. ‘Aaditha, I’m sorry for my behaviour,’ I say, holding her gaze.
There’s a heaviness behind her gaze, untethered somewhat by an effort to appear unbothered.
‘I want to tell you what happened… My actions… were wrong, and my words were awful. But we’re about to build a marriage based on honesty, and that means no unspoken truths. Even if what I’m going to say comes across like justifying the unjustifiable.’
I see Aaditha swallow before she speaks. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’
Her words land heavy on my shoulders, in my chest, sinking straight to the pit of my stomach. But I don’t let it shake me. Her trust is delicate, and I’m already standing on cracked ice.
‘I was going through the papers of the Ranibagh deal the day before I arrived in Bengaluru. It looked really good,’ I say, exhaling, ‘then I figured your father was at the other end of it… I called to ask if you knew about it, but I couldn’t get through.
I waited the day out, but I was already losing my mind. ’
‘Why? Because my father cannot be trusted? Or I couldn’t be trusted?’
‘No, neither your father nor you,’ I say, drawing a deep breath, my eyes pleading with hers. ‘I trust you implicitly. It is me…’
I hesitate, then the words spill out. ‘Thoughts of you have consumed me, Aaditha… Your eyes, the fall of your hair, how it settles on your shoulders before slipping away, the curve of your lips, the colour that rises in your cheeks… You are my sunshine, Aaditha. I cannot fathom losing your light.’
Aaditha’s gaze drops; it settles on the table that is polished to a shine.
‘When I saw your dad was tied to the Ranibagh deal, I couldn’t help wondering… was that the point of us? Were those moments we shared on the terrace, during Holi, all that your eyes told me… was it a part of some bigger plan?’
‘You are so full of yourself,’ she says, shaking her head.
Her voice is barely audible – flat and hollow. Like the feeling has been drained from it.
‘I have tried to deny this feeling, Aaditha. I have tried to convince myself it is nothing more than admiration or fleeting fancy, but the truth is undeniable,’ I say.
The air I exhale is cyclonic.
‘The moment you entered my life, everything shifted – the colour of the blossoms was brighter, the weight I carried felt lighter. I woke up to thoughts of you and slept with thoughts of you. You have stirred a passion in me I did not know I was capable of feeling, and now, I can no longer brush it aside.’
Her eyes widen, and her cheeks peak to a wild rose.
‘I have spent nights wrestling with my own heart, trying to discern whether what I feel is mere infatuation or something deeper,’ I say, moving forward in my seat.
‘And now, sitting here before you, I don’t want to deny it any longer; I don’t want to hide, Aaditha.
I will chase you to the ends of the world if I have to… but I cannot be without you.’
Aaditha wraps her arms tightly around herself.
In the silence, her eyes speak first, something that looks like hope.
I step around her desk and crouch, close enough to feel her breath on my skin. Taking her hands in mine, I say, ‘I love you, not as a fleeting spark but as a steady flame. I love you with a vulnerability I have never allowed myself to show, with a sincerity borne from my deepest being.’
When Aaditha inhales, the hollow at the base of her throat sinks so deep her skin is almost pale.
‘I know the road ahead will test us. Life in the palace will take some adjusting for you, but I will relax everything around you, everything but security, so that you can live life like you have always lived it.’
She blinks. Maybe to hide the emotions playing out in her eyes.
‘Shadows will fall, but know this, I am yours if you will have me. I promise to love you in all the ways that matter, to protect you, to celebrate you and to be there when you need me.’
Aaditha’s eyes are on mine.
‘I hope you know what you are doing, Ved,’ she says after what feels like an eternity, ‘because I seem to be slipping.’