Page 83 of Red Flags and Rishtas
Instead of grabbing my arm, he followed me to the heart of the garden. I wanted to step inside my house and shut the door in his face, but my feet had begun to betray me. So I stood at the entrance to the flat, imprisoned by my own complex bundle of emotions.
It was quieter in the garden and even though I was facing away from him, I could hear his voice clear as day.
‘I knew I loved you … I was just too scared to admit it,’ he was saying from behind me.
I could’ve pushed the door open and left. I knew he wouldn’t have physically tried to stop me. But I couldn’t drown out the little voice of longing that had begun to ring in my ears.
‘You went and gotengaged, Aadar,’ I said, the hurt seeping through my voice. ‘I’m supposed to believe all that’s just over?’
‘It has been, for over two weeks now …’ his voice was gentler as he turned me around to face him.
‘How do I know you won’t change your mind again and go marry the very next girl your meddling parents find for you?’ I demanded, still too raw to let down my guard.
It was hard for me to meet his eye. I knew my resolve would crumble under his toasty gaze.
‘Hey, don’t shit on my parents,’ he said, holding up one finger and angling his face to the right. ‘They were the ones who found you in the first place.’
Despite my best efforts to control my facial muscles, a smile slipped out. Aadar’s face lit up.
‘Can we just … start over?’ His expression was solemn, his eyes penetrative.
‘How do you propose we do that?’ I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
‘Well,’ he said, rubbing his forehead in thought. ‘You could let me take you out on a date.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, pretending to mull it over.
‘Or I could go inside right now and hit your parents with a rishta,’ he teased. ‘The choice is yours.’
‘Oh God.’ I held my hand up. ‘No, no rishtas please.’
I had no clue when or how our fight had dissolved into the familiar territory of cheerful banter, but I couldn’t deny that I was thankful for it. His relief, too, was almost palpable.
He pulled me into his arms with one light tug on my wrist.
‘I’m sorry, Ananya,’ he whispered as he looked down at me. ‘For being such a dud about this.’
‘A dud? I think you mean a complete dickhead … douchebag, maybe, or… oooh I know,’ I said, enjoying the proximity between our faces. ‘A dildo.’
He watched me for a few seconds, amused, before bending down to shut me up.
When his lips met mine, they didn’t carry the same urgency they had from the night of the Best Man reception. They were patient and leisurely, as if they knew they had all the time in the world to be pressed against mine.
If my life was a romcom, I’d be safe in the knowledge that a happily ever after awaited me after the turn of this page. I would open my heart to this man, love him, be loved by him, maybe pass on that love to a couple of young ones, grow old with him and spend my life knowing I couldn’t have asked for more. But this isn’t that kind of a story.
This is a story about a bet.
‘Does this mean I won?’ I asked, and he threw his head back in laughter.
