30. Keep it PG-13
You're my favorite serf.

* * *

[Anmol's POV]

I had fallen asleep with one hand on the suitcase. In case he tried to sneak out, I'd be jerked awake. However, that wasn't the case.

Ashar didn't return home until late evening.

If it wasn't for the turning of the doorknob and my room's door creaking open, I wouldn't have known.

I sat up straight in bed.

He turned the light on blinding me for a second. I didn't see any documents in his hands. Had mom told him to wait?

His face was expressionless as he looked between the suitcase and me.

He turned the light off again and went to the sofa. He put his blanket on himself and I assumed he was trying to fall asleep. Ashar never failed to surprise me.

Since he didn't reach for his suitcase, I figured my mother had worked her magic and blackmailed him into staying. Sometimes, she made the right decisions. She probably snuck in serious legal conditions in case he attempted to divorce me.

Gratitude was due for my mother. Why did it take her six plus hours to convince him?

I woke up only to find Ashar missing. At least his luggage was still at the same spot. I heard faint noises coming from my closet. When I neared it, I heard Ashar's clearly upset voice. He was speaking in Punjabi to someone. Though I couldn't speak it, I heard my dad speak it enough to understand it.

"No," Ashar kept repeating. "No . . . He called once when my mother died . . . I have no interest in his property. Neither does Aara . . . Sure, ask Arsalan bhai (brother). . . I'm telling you this for the last time. He stopped being my father the day he married you!"

I thought Ashar was harsh on me, but it was nowhere close to the way he treated whoever he was talking to on the phone. This was the first time I heard him mention his father and his brother. I only recognized the brother's name from Ashar's background check.

"It's not my duty!" Ashar snapped loudly and then lowered his voice again. "He's not our father . . . Let him die without seeing his kids. He was doing well the past fifteen years. What difference does it make now? . . . No. No . . . I don't know about him, but Aara and I are not coming!"

I snuck away from the closet as I heard movement. It was in vain because Ashar didn't step out with his phone until five minutes later.

He glanced at me perched up on the bed, pretending to do my morning yoga.

Without uttering a single word, he left the room with his phone. I took a shower quickly before checking in on Aara to see how she was doing. Ashar was on his way out of her room.

He blocked Aara's doorway threshold like a thug.

"Excuse me," I said.

"My sister's resting," he said in a low voice, keeping a hand on the door frame. "Don't disturb her."

I stood on my tippy toes to look over his shoulder. She was in her bed tapping furiously on her phone. I ducked under Ashar's arm to get inside. He grabbed my wrist to pull me back. 

"Let go," I warned, trying to break free.

"Leave," he said, leaning next to my ear.

He was close enough for me to smell the fruity soap smell coming from his body mixed with woody, leathery cologne. He must've taken a shower before that phone call. I was having a hard time remembering how to breathe with how close he stood to me. I looked into his deep eyes which still held disappointment and frustration for me.

I was close enough to make one wrong move and kiss him. His lips were right there.

My brain went into a state of shock at the thought. I immediately backed a step looking anywhere but at him. He still held my wrist but more loosely as if confused by my actions.

He had no idea how mortified I was by my own thoughts.

Ashar.

Waiter.

Serf!

No, not a serf.

"Hey, keep it PG-13," Aara said loudly. "I do want to be an aunt though."

Her giggles made Ashar release me. I gave him a triumphant look before hurrying to Aara's side. He left but not before giving me a disapproving head shake.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked. "Did you two fight?"

"Your brother thinks I'm responsible for your condition," I told her.

"What? Why? You—"

She started rising up, but I forced her to relax back down. She rested her phone on her pillow where I caught a recent message from Josh.

"Don't worry," I said. "He'll calm down . . . hopefully."

"Oh man," she said. "I'll talk to him. I'll make sure he knows you're not Hayat Part Two."

"Hayat Part Two?"

"He loved her so much, but she didn't like me," Aara explained. "It was worse when she saw Ashar took responsibility for Rosie too. She never bothered being friendly towards us after that. We were already going through so much and she left. Just like that. She said she wanted him. Only him. Not buy one, get two sisters free."

"Wait a minute," I said puzzled. "What do you mean Ashar took responsibility for Rosie?'"

Aara's face was horror stricken as if she had said something she wasn't supposed to.

"He didn't tell you about Rosie?" she asked. I slowly shook my head. "What about mom?"

"I know about the accident," I said, not going into the details. Bravely, I added, "I know you have a brother named Arsalan. But Ashar . . . doesn't talk about it to me."

She seemed slightly relieved. "Arsalan bhai (brother) . . . Never mind. You don't want to know him. Anyway, Ashar bhai (brother) probably thinks you'll hurt us and then leave us like Hayat. It's weird how he always took your side when you weren't exactly—no offense—nice to us. Now, when you helped me, he's behaving like a distraught lover."

"Tell me about it."

"I'll talk to him."

"Don't," I said quickly. "He's not in a good mood today. I think he had a fight with your father."

"Yes," she said flatly. "I don't think he talked to our baba. He talked to baba's wife. She said baba wants to see us all for the last time. His kidneys are failing from the drinking problems. He wants to give us all his property."

"Your dad is rich?"

She laughed. "Sure. He's in India. The property is worth a few thousand dollars here. But Ashar bhai (brother) would never go there. If there are two people he hates the most in this world—other than Hayat and Arsalan (bhai)—it has to be dad and his second wife."

"Why does he hate all of these people?" I was trying to take advantage of the conversation while Aara was answering. She must've been feeling sorry for me to be sharing this top secret information.

"Well, Hayat was a witch," she said. "Arsalan bhai is a hot mess. I don't know what he's up to now. Heard he got married to some rich lady and he's living the life in Europe. Baba had an affair with this super rich woman who was widowed at a young age. But her late husband left all of his wealth to her."

"Oh no," I gasped. "This was in India?"

She nodded. "My mom and my baba met in the US and got married. Baba crossed the border illegally to get into the US, and mom was born and raised here. I was only one when baba began visiting his old mother in India once a year. He would stay for three months at a time, saying his mother was just near death. Mom had me and two elder brothers to take care of. She had no desire to travel.

"Baba took advantage of that. He didn't tell us his mother had passed away the first year he had gone to India. He found himself the widowed woman to share his grief. All I know is one of our relatives called mom and told her what dad was up to. Mom went to India and caught him red-handed. She returned and filed for divorce. Dad never came back only sending his signature on the divorce papers. I don't have any memories of him at all."

"I'm so sorry," I said putting my hand on top of hers. I missed my papa terribly because of the love I grew up with. Aara had never gotten the chance to know her father other than how he had betrayed her mother.

"Don't be," she said smiling meekly. "I miss mom sometimes, but at least I have Ashar bhai (brother). Now, I have you on my side as well. God is good."

I squeezed her hand. It amazed me how easily she had forgiven me for the way I had treated her and her siblings. Papa always told me forgiveness was the first step to becoming a better person. I understood the real meaning from the Virk family.

Maybe Ashar wouldn't hold a long grudge on this misunderstanding we had. Maybe he could find it him to forgive me for the background check.

No!

Why do I care?

It pained me how much I cared about Ashar's attitude with me. Why did I want him to go back to his kind, cute self?

No way. He's not cute!

Okay, maybe just his eyes . . . and lips.

I wished there was a way I could slap sense into me.

I let Aara rest while I went downstairs for breakfast. She had eaten already.

Her brother and sister along with my grandmother sat in the living room finishing the puzzle we had started yesterday. As per the overheard conversation earlier and the chat with Aara, I wasn't sure how Rosie fit the Virk family picture. Was she adopted? Did their mom have a second marriage?

Wait, how old was Rosie when Ashar's mother passed away?

Ashar's phone rang disturbing my thoughts.

"Rosie, why don't you play with grandma?" Ashar told Rosie before picking up his phone.

He actually stepped out of the house to attend the call.

It must've been his stepmother.

I went to the dining room for breakfast. After I had finished eating and joined Rosie's side was when Ashar returned.

"Get ready," he said. When he saw me looking at Rosie, he said, "I'm talking to you, Princess Majhraut."

"Me?" I pointed to myself. "I prefer Princess Annie or Anmol, if we're serious about using titles. What should I address you as?"

My grandmother rolled her eyes while Rosie seemed confused.

"Peasant? Waiter?" he suggested with a bitter smile. "Or, your favorite—serf?"

"Hate that word, but," I said casually, "you're my favorite serf."

Though he took it as me being condescending, I genuinely agreed that he was my favorite. Granny must've understood me because she smiled faintly.

Ignoring me, Ashar crouched next to Rosie.

"I'll be back soon. Finish the puzzle with grandma," Ashar said gently to his little sister before he turned to me. "We're going to see your mother. I'll be waiting in the car. Come down in five or I'll leave you."

He left the three of us in bewilderment.

I went to my room and changed into jeans and a plain blouse with a furry designer coat. My feet were barely in my boots by the time I made it into Ashar's ancient transportation vehicle.

"Why are we . . . going to . . . my mom?" I asked breathlessly.

He didn't utter a word to me.

Did they actually terminate the contract?

Were we going for divorce signatures?

Did mom tell him to wait till morning to come and finish everything?

I shouldn't have jumped into this car.

What in the world were these two planning?

*************
A/N

3 updates back to back I know. I just felt like I owed you guys this for the long wait. Hopefully these 3 chapters compensate somewhat. I will try my best to finish this story as soon as I can. Next chapter might be released Friday or maybe tomorrow.

I hope you guys can forgive me for the wait I put you through all these years.

How was the chapter?

How is life?

How is school/work?

Don't get me started on the has prices. Thank God I work from home.

Thanks all for the votes and comments. I appreciate you guys sticking with me and my story for so long. It means a grand deal.

Keep voting and commenting. I'll keep posting in the meantime. Thank you!

—K-K-Kiran