Page 101 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Oh, Mihir!” Tara moved closer and put an arm around me. “That’s…nothing close to what we imagined.” She glanced at Sameer. “I was so furious at you. I called you inconsiderate and selfish. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. It’s a hard truth to accept…but you broke Sona’s trust. Why did you need to break up with her?”

Sameer pulled his arms across his chest in a protective gesture. He cared about Sona too.

My head hung. I had mulled over that question myself for days and weeks now.

The respected doctor who I had called my grandfather wasn’t my anybody. I hadn’t descended from brilliant surgeons and activist teachers but from a pedophile who had impregnated a sixteen-year-old girl. What did that make me?

How could I think of starting a family with Sona when I didn’t know where I had come from? What if the wicked side I had claimed as my own wasn’t mine? What if I was born with that venom, something so vile, I couldn’t escape it? How could I let it affect my sweet Sona and her future?

Breaking up with her was the only thing I could do to save her from the evil inside me. I was the fruit of a poisoned tree.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” I offered.

“Yeah, that was a big mistake,” Tara pointed out matter-of-factly. “Let me make you some coffee.”

“No, I need to leave for a meeting,” I said and stood.

“Sameer.” I gave him a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, man!” he said in my ear. “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you, Tara. I’m glad Sameer chose you.” I gathered her in a big hug.

She patted my back. “For the record, I chose Sameer. Good luck with your search, and keep me posted.”

And that’s how things stood when I boarded a long flight to Mumbai to land at Sona’s doorstep on that hot, humid monsoon day.

SONA

“When are you coming, my child?” Appa’s voice sparkled when I called my parents on video.

I’d called to say I was having second thoughts about my visit to India, but their enthusiasm dissuaded me.

“We are thinking of having a small party, just the extended family and some friends,” Aai chirped.

I rolled my eyes. “I know what that means. Five hundred people and counting.”

“Come on, don’t exaggerate,” she rebuked gently. “We’re so proud of you. Getting that job is an accomplishment, and we want to celebrate you.”

“Yeah, and rub your daughter’s success in people’s faces,” I teased with a smile.

“Well, obviously!” Aai laughed, and Appa chuckled beside her. “Don’t you remember how they looked down on you when you decided to study liberal arts instead of engineering, medicine, or even the sciences?” She scoffed. “I’d rather have a child with a first-class Ph.D. in the liberal arts than be a second-rate engineer.”

“And that was a dig at Vimla’s son,” Appa furnished.

“Yes, I got that.” I laughed. “Alright, have your party, but make sure you are inviting people to celebrate with us, not to flaunt my success.”

“Oh, hush!” Mom waved her hand. “That’s just an added bonus.”

We laughed, and I changed my mind again. It seemed I was going to India after all.

I’d finally signed the offer letter from Houston, and the next step was…well, it was to get over Mihir, but that could take a lifetime.

First, I had to empty the apartment and move my things into a storage unit. When I shared this plan with Tara, she suggested using her place to store it all until I returned from India, and then we would drive together to Houston.

She flew to New York to help me pack. I gave away all my furniture to an organization that helped incoming international students. I donated textbooks I didn’t use anymore, but I still had multiple boxes of books and papers, which I mailed to Tara’s place. I also shipped boxes of clothes and wrapped some delicate artifacts collected over the years for Tara to carry back with her. For the last few days, I moved into a nearby hotel as I emptied out the apartment and prepared to leave for India. Finally, I changed my tickets to land in Dallas instead of New York.

A week later, I was in India with a plan to mend my broken heart by spending time in the cocoon of my parents’ love.

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