Page 42 of The Circle of Exile
“Come,” Atharva said. Iram cleared her face with both hands and went to his side. They turned and began to trace their steps to the door.
“Jannat?” Faiz called out to her.
They stopped. Iram glanced over her shoulder.
“I don’t know what went down between you and your… umm, husband… but I want you to know that if you want, you can stay here. If you don’t want to go then you can stay.”
While his words melted a part of her heart, she felt Atharva stiffen by her side. She felt a storm brew and come to the surface in his calm expression. And before it would break the barriers of his precariously schooled control, Iram shook her head.
“Khuda Hafiz,” she smiled, giving her brother a final farewell nod. For the first time she felt her heart stop at the tender smile of the Mir of Nagar.
“Allah Hafiz.”
It was not long before they had left the heritage of her blood behind, the door closing behind her as they descended the steps. The car door was open, the engine idling as if ready to race them out of here. Had it been idling all this time?
Iram began to get in but Atharva stopped. She stalled. Crickets were croaking in the silence.
“Atharva?”
“Do you want to?”
She frowned, her eyes searching his face in the moonlit gloom of the night. “Do I want to what?”
“Come home? You did not answer my question earlier. You left Srinagar of your own will,” he asserted. “Do you want to come home with me?”
“I left because…”
“Right now it doesn’t matter why you left. What matters is if you want to come back.”
She felt bitter, and sweet at the same time. She tried to search his face to see what he was feeling, but it again seemed impossible. Four months and countless experiences on each side had robbed her of her ability to read him. How would she regain it, she wondered, and didn’t realize that between his question and this moment, long seconds had elapsed. Precious seconds that were each looking like the fall of an executioner’s blade on his face.
“Yes,” she answered immediately. “I do.”
He did not look like that answer mattered to him one way or another. Atharva held the door wider for her. She climbed in, he followed, and the car sped out of the porch. The gloom of the night returned. The silence of the car was deafening again, not even crickets to break it. He wasn’t looking at her again.
“Atharva?”
“Hmm?” He kept gazing out of the window.
“This too shall pass, isn’t it?”
He nodded. Did not say that ‘we will remain.’
9. The worst thing in the world is to be abandoned…
The worst thing in the world is to be abandoned; worse is to be forgotten. Atharva had the honour of both. This wasn’t about him, he tried to tell himself. This wasn’t about his role, his needs, his feelings in her life. Looking at her all day, seeing the two parts of her held together by a fine thread, he could recognise how fragile she was. And yet he couldn't get himself to lend more than a helping hand at this point. He could not feel the urge to do more than make sure she was safe. He hated it; he hated the resentment that had risen inside him the moment she had confessed to leaving him and not the babies.
But he could not be a farce to her. Could not fake his way into the tender care she needed right now.
So he drank the poison of his thoughts, locked himself in fight mode and kept going, striding along with her through the back door of the hotel. The late hour and their earlier preparation had ensured that the route was safe. The elevator had been held for them, security tight. Even so, Atharva did not relax again until they were inside his room and closed away from prying eyes.
“Can I go see him?” Iram asked. And he wanted to yell. She was asking permission to go see her own son?
Atharva nodded, nudging his chin to the door. She did not wait for more, her morose frame suddenly snapping to life as she whirled on the balls of her feet and ran. Atharva watched her go, slowly open the door and peep in.
“Begumjaan…” she whispered.
“Come, Iram. He just fell asleep. Close the door.”
