Riya

"How do you know you're in love?" A seventeen-year-old Siya had asked, sitting under the old shed behind our school building during our lunchtime. Neither she nor I had any concrete idea. For a teen in school, it felt like such an abstract concept.

I didn't remember what any of us said after that. I didn't even remember if we did say anything at all. But as I stood in front of the pottery shop, the questions kept repeating in my mind. I wasn't dwelling on the fact why it was repeated in my mind.

I had been staying clear of his ways, pretending we didn't know each other's thoughts and dreams for the last two days. For two days, I kept my head down and worked. For two days, our conversations revolved around yes and no. Yesterday, he didn't show up.

His place stayed empty for a while and got occupied by another student. The heartbreak I faced when it happened shook me to my core. Angie's all-knowing eyes didn't help me a bit.

Hence, here I stood, looking at the door while it rained cats and dogs after college, skipping my cafe shift. The sound of vehicles blurred in the rain as I contemplated how far I was doomed. I was a hundred percent sure this moment was going to go down as a distant, cringy memory that I was going get in the middle of the night.

My brain would probably tell me years late, 'Hey remember the time when you showed up at Abhay Raichand's workplace even after deciding on a no because he didn't show up at your cafe once, and you were scared he forgot about you?'

I cringed a bit inside already. Ignoring, I opened the door stepping inside. The smell of clay surrounded me, and I felt my heart sped up in an instant. I looked around to find Sameer, Abhay's teacher, on the counter. His smile bloomed when he saw me entering the shop. Beside him stood a girl with an angelic face, clad in a black bodycon dress.

"Riya!" He greeted. "I was just thinking when will you be back." He kept the papers he was writing on aside.

"Um...hi!" I mustered the enthusiasm to squash the disappointment of not seeing Abhay around. "I was here for my piece."

"Yes. I think Abhay was working on it. He's in the back room." He pointed to the door as if expecting me to walk there.

"You sure, it's okay if she goes there? That's his private space if I'm not wrong." The girl asked, her brows furrowed. I could see the irritation on her face. Who was she? Were they a thing? I tried not to think about the heavy feeling in my stomach.

"I'm sure he won't if it's Riya." Sameer grinned and gestured for me to go ahead.

"He didn't mention any friend named Riya." She stated to Sameer, but it felt like it was directed towards me. I sighed, ignoring the girl, and walked towards the door with a heavy feeling. It never crossed my mind that he might have had a girlfriend. I wanted to go back home. This was a bad idea.

I slowly opened the door to find the room drenched in darkness with a streak of light coming from the ventilators. The light made everything glow in the room.

My eyes took in a shirtless Abhay in his grey sweats. I watched his muscles dance around as he moved his hands, molding the clay. My throat went dry. I took in the faint sound of the pottery wheel and his presence. The world around me melted away. His presence was like the first rain on a dry earth.

He sat on a pottery stool with his back to me. He had his earphones in as he worked on what seemed to be a vase. I stood by the door and took a moment to soak up this version of him. Engrossed in his work, surrounded by lights and different shapes of clay sculptures in different stages.

"Close the door, Riya?" He said, his hand continuing their work.

"How did you-" I asked as my heart picked up its pace.

"No one else smells like chocolate in here." He said casually, as if he just mentioned the weather. And I felt that my world was titled a bit. "Close the door." He ordered again, and I shifted my focus on his tone so I could get irritated instead of the strange peace I felt. I was not supposed to feel peace. I was supposed to feel angry. The spectrum of emotions this man made me feel in an instant was too much for me to handle.

"Maybe ask politely," I said, folding my hands. I looked around the wooden shelves and the different sculptures on them. There were clothes thrown around with clay on them, and the space was cluttered with broken pieces. A chaos.

"Hmm...So you're done with avoiding me?" He asked. His hands stopped and he crushed the piece he was making. He kneaded the broken piece, turning it back into a lump of clay.

"Who said I was avoiding you?" I asked, still glued to the open door. I was ready to bolt. I was not ready for any confrontation. Especially with a half-naked Abhay.

He stood up, picked up the cloth kept beside him, and wiped his hands. He threw the cloth before walking towards me. He stood in front of me, his hands going behind me to pull the door. I flinched at the click of the door.

He moved away, and I felt I could breathe again. I needed to get away. "I-" I cleared my throat, looking down, my hands still folded in front. "I'm here for my piece."

"Mhm," he said, not even glancing at me. He walked towards the wooden shelve in the corner, picking up a beautiful pink and golden flower. I wanted to admire the flower and gush over how I made this beautiful piece. But something was nagging at the back of my mind.

I took in the tense shoulders of his and the lost mind. He wasn't making any comments or making eye contact. What happened?

It was good, honestly. A way to distance myself from him. Maybe he got tired of looking around for his friend's annoying sister. Maybe the girl outside was someone he was involved with.

I tried not to think about the girl. Instead, I forced on his tense shoulders.

As he turned towards me with the vase, I asked, "Are you okay?"

He stood there, his left eyebrow up. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem tense."

"Do I?" He asked, walking towards me.

"Um...yes." He stopped in front of me, inches apart. My body tingled, and my fingers itched to reach out and touch him.

"Here's your flower." He handed it to me, his eyes on it. "It came out beautiful." But I had already moved on from the joy of sculpture, all my attention on his face. Something was off.

"Abhay," I called out his name softly. "What happened?"

He looked at me, keeping the flower on the shelf beside us, and stepped closer. I could smell the faint mix of clay and an earthy cologne. I wanted to step closer.

"Not sure if you'd be interested." He taunted.

"Well, I am and I'm asking."

"Why?" He asked, his eyes searching mine.

I fumbled looking for a response as I looked into his eyes. I wanted to tell him. I was asking because I cared. Because I didn't like that something was bothering him. But saying it out loud was out of the question. So I settled for a safer response, "you were there for me. So, I'm doing the same." A truth nonetheless.

He smirked as if he read something I wasn't ready to say, "is that so?"

"Yes."

He was quiet for a moment, then he spoke, "I went home yesterday." he put his palm over his face. Then stepped back, rolling his shoulder and facing away from me. As if it was uncomfortable sharing.

"And?" I asked.

"Why don't you sit down? I'll bring coffee." He said, turning around.

"Nope, finish your story," I ordered.

He spoke after a pause, "Long story. You sure you're staying?"

I didn't need to think before replying, "Yes."

The tension from his shoulder was gone. He gestured for me to sit down on the wooden chair around the table, which was filled with scattered pottery.

"It's a mess." He said as we sat down.

"It's fine." I looked expectedly at him.

"I went home. Our conversation was about some stuff at the company." He started. "Apparently, people there are skeptical about my reputation. Raghav's father is against me working there. They brought up points where I hit Raghav. They're portraying me as unstable."

I frowned, my grip tightening around the flower sculpture. "That's ridiculous. You and Raghav...whatever happened, it's in the past. They can't hold that against you forever."

Abhay gave a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "That's what I thought too. But people love a story. And a 'violent, unhinged Raichand heir' is a story they enjoy more than the truth."

His voice was laced with bitterness, and something twisted in my chest at the sight of him looking this...defeated. Abhay wasn't someone who let things get to him. He wore his indifference like armor. But right now, standing in his chaotic little world, he looked like someone who was losing the battle against the weight of expectation.

I hesitated before asking, "What did your mom say?"

He looked at me, thoughtful, "You never call her my stepmom."

"You noticed that."

"Pretty hard not to notice."

"Titles don't change the fact that she is the one who brought you up. Or the fact that she loves you."

"I did have a mother who gave birth to me." He said, challenging me. He was right. I didn't think of it that way. He laughed, "Little Miss Saviour is stuck in her moral dilemma."

I ignored his taunt, "Would you like me to stop calling her your mom." He went quiet after my question.

"No," he stated with a finality.

I nodded, "so, what did she say?"

Abhay scoffed, leaning against the worktable. "She warned me. "Told me to be careful or else we'll lose everything."

"What do you mean?"

His jaw clenched. "The company. Our family's name. I have started taking on some of her responsibilities to help out. But the person running things now doesn't want me there. They're doing everything they can to push me out."

Anger flared in my stomach. How could they treat him like this? How could they ignore everything he was doing just to hold things together?

Instead, I exhaled, keeping my voice soft. "You're not unstable, Abhay. You're not some reckless guy who picks fights for fun."

His gaze flicked up, pinning me in place. "You sound so sure."

"Because I am," I spoke with a realization.

Silence stretched between us, the rain outside filling the void. The steady patter against the windows mirrored the rapid beat of my heart. He was watching me too intently like he was trying to figure something out. It made my skin heat and my throat dry.

I broke eye contact, looking down at the delicate sculptures in front of me. "I hate that they're treating you like this. Like you're just a label."

Abhay let out a slow breath. "Yeah, well. That's life."

His tone was resigned, and something about it frustrated me. But did I even have the right to say anything? I was the same, wasn't I?

"You don't have to accept it," I said, looking up again. "You don't have to let them define who you are."

He tilted his head slightly as if considering my words. Then, with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, he asked, "And who am I, Riya? Since you seem to know me so well."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. The words were there, hovering on the edge of my tongue, but they were dangerous. If I said them, if I gave voice to what I truly felt, there would be no taking it back.

"You're...more than what they think. More than what you let people believe. You care, even when you act like you don't. And you—"

I stopped myself, pulse hammering.

His eyes darkened, something unreadable flashing through them. "And I what?"

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "Forget it." I got from the chair, ready to go.

He didn't move, didn't look away. The air between us was thick and charged.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he asked after a beat, slowly getting up and walking closer to me. "You keep running, Riya. Every damn time."

This conversation was going somewhere else now.

"I don't run," I said, planning on doing exactly the opposite.

He let out a humorless laugh as stepped closer with an inch separating us. "You do. You've been running since the day we met. You push, then you pull away. And now, here you are, in my space, acting like—"

His proximity muddled my brain, and I tried to ignore the warmth I could feel radiating off his body. I was close. Too close. So close that if I extended my hand a few centimeters, I could touch him. Trace his collarbones with my fingers. The knowledge didn't help my racing heart at all.

"Acting like what?" I shot back. "Like I care? Because I do, Abhay. I care, okay? I don't know how to stop—"

The door creaked open before I could finish my sentence, cutting through the charged silence like a blade.

"There you are, Abhay."

That voice.

I turned sharply, my pulse still erratic from our confrontation, only to see her. The girl from the front.

She stood at the doorway, her expression unreadable, but the slight tilt of her lips screamed amusement. As if she had walked in on something entertaining.

Abhay exhaled heavily, stepping away from me, and just like that, the moment was gone.

"I was looking for you," the girl continued, stepping inside as if she belonged there. Maybe she did. Probably more than me. She came at the right moment. I said too much. I had made a fool of myself. The high of him being close to me slowly morphed into something ugly when I looked at the girl.

Her eyes flickered to me briefly before dismissing me entirely. "Sameer asked me to check on you. You've been here for a while."

I took a step back, my fingers curling into fists. The heavy feeling in my stomach intensified, spreading through my chest like a dull ache.

"I'm fine," Abhay muttered, his voice unreadable as he looked at my face, all shocked.

She ignored him, her gaze raking over his shirtless form, a slow smirk forming. "You should put on a shirt. We'll be late for the dinner."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and forced myself to move. My legs felt unsteady, and my heart still racing for all the wrong reasons.

"I should go," I murmured, my voice hoarse.

Abhay turned to me, something flickering in his eyes. "Riya–"

But I didn't wait for him to finish.

I turned on my heel, my hands trembling as I clutched my tote bag and picked up the clay flower. I barely registered her smug expression as I pushed past her, out the door, and into the main shop.

I needed air.

The rain was still pouring when I stepped outside, but I didn't care.

The moment the cold droplets hit my skin, I sucked in a sharp breath. It was a much-needed jolt back to reality.

The streets were nearly deserted as it was dark, the heavy downpour muting the sounds of the world around me. I loved the rainy nights. But, today it felt like a punishment.

I walked, my breath coming in uneven gasps as the weight in my chest became unbearable. My vision blurred, not from the rain but from the emotions clawing at my throat. I was so stupid.

Why did it hurt so much? I shouldn't have gone there.

The flower sculpture felt heavy in my grasp as if it carried all the words I couldn't say. I decided to take an auto to Sia's place. I needed to get away from here.

My feet splashed against the puddles, my heart hammering in sync with the heavy downpour. I could barely see past the curtain of water, but I didn't care. I just needed to get away.

But of course, Abhay never made things easy.

"Riya." His voice cut through the rain, steady and unbothered, as if we weren't caught in a storm.

I didn't stop. I didn't turn.

Until he stepped in front of me.

Silvery water rained over us, drenching us from head to toe. Each droplet felt like cold punishment as it slid down, creating patterns on my skin. The yellow glow of the streetlight shone over his face as he stood in front of me, blocking my way.

My eyes trailed the droplets sliding through his stubble and dripping down his shirt. A black T-shirt clung to his frame which he probably threw it on in his hurry to follow me. His hands were shoved into his pockets, casual yet unwavering, as if this pouring rain and chill in the bones were mere inconveniences he didn't bother to acknowledge.

The metro rumbled above us, reminding me of the stretching silence and the fact that I was transfixed by the droplets tracing his body.

I tried stepping aside, and he stepped even closer to block my way.

"Say that again." He ordered.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"What you said inside."

I gritted my teeth, "why don't you go back to the dinner you planned." I said, stepping aside to walk away. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer as our body collided. A shiver went down my spine as looked into my eyes.

"She's Sameer's sister. It was a thing for all three of us." He said, his voice grave.

"And what am I supposed to do with that information?" I gritted out. Being angry was the only way out of here. I couldn't stand being so close to him after the blunder I did inside.

"Know that you are a fool if you think I'm going to walk away after this." He said, and I stiffened.

"You don't get to do this," I whispered.

"Do what."

"Act like you care." I gritted out, trying to get away.

He didn't flinch. Didn't step back. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't act. Not with you."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. No. This was too much. My head spun as I tried to grasp what was happening. What was I doing standing here, feeling all of this...this mess. This was Dhruv's friend.

Oh my god! Dhruv.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

Then his hand was on my jaw, his fingers brushing my cheek, and my pulse thundered in my ears. I wanted to push him away. I should push him away. But all I could do was close my eyes as his thumb traced the curve of my lips.

It was going to be like the last time. I just needed to push him away and get away from him. But I couldn't find the strength inside.

"Abhay..." My voice broke on his name, and for a moment, I wondered if he was going to laugh at me, mock me for my weakness.

Instead, he leaned in.

I didn't have time to protest, didn't have the strength to pull away, because the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. 

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The longest chapter of this story. What are your thoughts about it? 

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