Page 5 of Born in Sin

Her gaze traced his features, the strong jaw, the high cheekbones, the cleft in his chin, and the beautiful storm clouds he had for eyes. A gift from his Scottish mother, his eyes were a deep, dark gray, the very heart of a thunderstorm, one that brought nothing but devastation in its wake.

They stood in silence, their eyes devouring each other, the years dropping away as they drank their fill of the other. Barring that chance encounter a few months back, they’d made sure their paths never crossed.

But then why would their paths ever cross? Cara’s life bloomed in the arc lights. Virat lived for the shadows that blended into the night.

And still, he was her other half. There was a Virat shaped hole in her life that had never been filled. That, she knew, would never be filled. Not by anyone else and not by him either.

“Celi-“

“Cara,” she said, her voice slicing through his unspoken words, rendering them worthless. “My name is Cara.”

Virat fell silent, his face, as always, a picture of calm. It had always been his eyes that spoke his truth. And they did today as well. They told her a story she wasn’t willing to hear.

He nodded in acceptance of her correction. He’d lost the right to call her Celi a long time ago and he knew that.

“Cara,” he said, now, in that deep, rough baritone of his.

It sounded wrong. This name, this identity she’d claimed for herself, the one that had brought her fame, fortune, and friends. It sounded wrong on his lips. Her hand crept up to massage her aching heart. She saw his eyes track the movement and dropped the hand back to her side.

“You can’t be here,” she said.

“I know.”

“Virat.” His name was a broken whisper on her lips, a hopeless plea. Virat flinched, almost like the sound of his name spoken in her voice caused him physical pain.

A thunderous knocking interrupted them, the door to the vanity van almost bending with the force of it.

“Cara? Are you okay?” Kabir’s frantic voice filled the cramped space.

Cara swallowed, frustration swirling within her at the interruption. Her co-star was as dramatic in real life as he was in reel life. And he fancied himself a saviour of damsels in distress. Cara was in distress right now, but she wasn’t his damsel to rescue. She wasn’t anybody’s to rescue, she thought rebelliously.

“I’m fine, Kabir. Go away please.” Her response was curt, but it did nothing to assuage Kabir’s unfounded fears.

“Pari said some strange man had forced his way into your vanity van. Where is your security? Is he assaulting you?”

“I’d hardly be talking to you right now, if he was assaulting me, would I?” Cara answered dryly.

“Why is the door locked?”

The door shook violently on the heels of that question, the handle jiggling. Virat looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question. If she wanted him to unlock it, he would. She knew that without needing to be told. Virat would always do what she wanted. Except stay with her. Except love her. Except…

Forcing the memories away, Cara shook her head in response.

She raised her voice and answered Kabir, “It’s locked because I need privacy while I talk to my visitor. Go away, Kabir. I’ll be back on set in time for the shot.”

“Fine,” Kabir grumbled. “I anyway need to touch up my face. I ran all the way here because I was worried about you and now, I’m sweaty. My forehead is glistening! Next time ask your security to do a better job.”

His voice petered out as he walked away from the vanity and silence fell on their little space again. Cara took a small step away from Virat, needing as much space as she could get from him, in the hope of calming her riotous emotions.

She needed a moment before she could deal with whatever this was. She opened the tiny refrigerator that was stocked with her infused water and grabbed two bottles. She tossed one to him and he caught it reflexively though he didn’t open it or take a sip.

Cara cracked hers open and drank, draining almost half the bottle in one gulp. Her heart was racing, she thought dispassionately. She took a deep breath and tried to slow it down. When that didn’t work, she put the bottle down before her traitorous heart and nerves ensured she spilled water down her dress like a toddler.

Fifteen years, four months and six days, she reminded herself. That’s how long Virat Jha, the boy who’d claimed he would love her forever, had abandoned her for. She forced herself to turn around and meet his eyes. She would not look away. She wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong.

Cara took another calming breath and asked, “Why are you here?”

Virat mirrored her action, taking a deep breath of his own. He placed the bottle she’d thrown at him on the table by his side, his fingers flexing as he let it go. She saw it then, the tremor that worked its way through his fingers. Virat Jha’s tell, knowledge of which no one had. No one other than her.

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