43. I Took Her Spot
When you love someone, don't you want to support them through their hard times?

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Ashar took me to a negative star quality restaurant that was mildly clean, and I feared for my health.

Despite my protests about not eating outside food, he sat down on a rugged chair to have a meal. He gave me the option to not eat but he was too hungry to make it home.

All my hunger had disappeared after seeing the photo. I had handed it back to Ashar who had wordlessly stuffed it inside his jeans pocket instead of throwing it away in the trash where it belonged.

Hell, he should've burned it to ashes and flushed it down the toilet!

While he feasted on tandoori chicken, biryani, momos, lassi, and a plate of salad, I thought of how to ask him about his ex lover. She abandoned him a long while ago. Why did he still carry a photo of her?

Man had no self-respect!

She left him!

He should not think about her or carry around her photo.

Especially not a photo of him kissing her cheek!

It took everything in my power to not dump the glass of lassi on Ashar's head.

"Did you love her a lot?" I asked him.

"Who?" he asked, completely focused on his food.

"The girl in the photo," I replied calmly. "It's Hayat, right?" I tried to sound as casual and mildly interested as I possibly could.

"Right."

"You must've been mad about her to still have her photo."

"We were going to get married," he replied, taking a pause from his eating. I hadn't expected him to answer my questions rather shut me down on this topic.

"When?"

"It was supposed to be after graduating university," he replied.

"You proposed to a girl to marry you before you even entered university?" I asked amazed. "In high school, I assume."

"It could've worked out," he said thoughtfully. "If everything had happened as expected, I'd be married right now to Hayat."

"That's why you hate me." The words flew out of my mouth. "I took her spot."

"I don't hate you," he said almost surprised. "You didn't take anybody's spot. Hayat left a long time ago."

"Because of Rosie? That's what Aara said."

He looked at me as if contemplating whether he wanted to pursue this further or not. For a moment, I thought he was going to tell me to drop it.

"You used to hate Aara and Rosie, right?" he stated.

"That was before I got to know them," I said immediately.

"Exactly." He smiled. "Hayat didn't get the opportunity to know them. Her parents also had some pressure on her. She was a Pakistani Muslim. I'm an Indian who has stepped inside religious places only twice in his life. That engagement collapsed after . . . after the accident happened."

"She should've supported you," I tried to insist.

"She did." He nodded. His words aggravated me for some reason. "She tried hard. Two years of pushing back on her family and giving me support. Aara and Rosie's responsibility fell on me later, and she couldn't do it anymore. I don't blame her. I was too broke—in all aspects—at that time.

"I couldn't stop her from pursuing her dreams. She had no support from her parents for her Hollywood dreams. I had too much going on. It wasn't fair for me to ask her to stay and struggle through my family problems."

"When you love someone, don't you want to support them through their hard times?" I asked curiously.

"It sounds easier said than done," he said. "How could I expect my fiancée to stay with me when my brother and my father couldn't?"

"How can you still defend her?" I asked in disbelief.

"I'm not defending her," he said shaking his head. "You don't know me or my family or what has happened between us. It's easy to judge Hayat. If you were in her place, you'd run away from me."

"Good thing I'm not in her place," I mumbled.

He began eating his food again without a word.

I dug my nails into my arms, holding back. That lassi was going to end up in his hair soon. He had no idea how much his words mattered to me. He was still crazy in love with his ex who abandoned him during his hardest time. Why else would he defend her or carry around her picture?

As I sat still, he finished all his plates full of food.

"Hey, you said you talked to your mom this morning," he said as he called the waiter for the bill. "Did she tell you if the divorce papers were ready?"

He was just dying to sign those documents. To get rid of me.

Nevertheless, I informed about the time frame and he sat back satisfied.

"What will you tell the girls?" I asked curiously. "You're leaving me because I am too rich?"

He blinked. "What do you mean I'm leaving you? Neither one of us wanted this marriage in the first place. You should thank me for ending it. As for the girls, I'll think of something."

"Thank you, Ashar," I said dryly. "Thank you for ending it."

He cast me a look as the waiter handed him the bill. I got up early and stepped out of the restaurant. Ashar followed behind me with the shopping bags.

I wondered whether he had only hugged me that day when Jhanvi had fainted and I was hit by a rock because of sympathy. He was being kind to me because he probably didn't want my mom to hold him responsible if anything happened to me.

The atmosphere between our relationship was more polluted than the one around us. I thought back on my relationships which hardly ever started before my father raised his objections. Ashar claimed he had too many family problems, yet papa still wanted me married to him.

I wish he was alive. So I could ask him why he ever told mom to have me married to Ashar. Just thinking about papa brought back the memories I had been trying to avoid since his accident.

One accident destroyed my life.

I wondered if I was ever going to find someone who loved me enough to not walk away from me.

Ashar hailed a black and yellow taxi covered with dust. Before we sat down, I received call from an unfamiliar number. Instead of ignoring, I actually answered.

Thank God I did because it was a call from the hospital regarding Jhanvi's blood test results. The doctor wanted us to pick some more medicines and bring Jhanvi in for another checkup.

When I told Ashar we had to pick up medicine for Jhanvi's weakness and poor health, he told the driver to take us to the hospital. It took us only half an hour to get the medicine and head back to the Virk house. As I looked at the medicines, I prayed for Jhanvi's health and her baby's.

My nephew had no idea about the turmoil his mother and his aunt were going through by his father's family.

It suddenly hit me that I had gotten a sonogram photo of my nephew from the doctor!

I looked at Ashar who wore a light blue fleece pullover. He looked handsome in it, but where was his other jacket? He usually wore it on top of his clothes everywhere for the cold.

Not today.

"Ashar," I said slowly, "where's your leather jacket? The brown one."

He frowned as the taxi stopped in front of his house. He paid the guy and we stepped out of the car. I waited expectantly for an answer.

"Maybe in our room," Ashar said. "Why are you asking?"

"Nothing," I said, smiling forcefully. "It was . . . nice leather."

He gave me a confused glance before heading in the house.

I breathed in and out very slowly. Jhanvi was going to murder me for being so negligent! Following behind him, I realized I had to run to my room first to find his jacket and get the photo.

Everyone was seated inside the living room watching a Bollywood flick. They looked at us with smiling faces when we arrived.

"I'll be right back," I said before Ashar's stepmother could ask me to join them.

The photo was priority.

I speed-walked upstairs and closed the door behind, tightening the bolt in place. Then, starting from Ashar's luggage to the closet to the bed to the drawers in the side table to the bathroom, I checked everything and ended up empty handed. Ashar's jacket was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps he brought the jacket to Sunny's room. That was a far stretch because Ashar's belongings were all in this room.

My face flamed as I unlocked the door.

No one had followed me upstairs surprisingly.

I trudged down to grab a water bottle when I realized the movie had been stopped. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me.

"Are you feeling okay?" Ashar's stepmother asked me kindly.

"Just getting water," I said with a smile.

"Sit," she said. "I'll get it for you."

She didn't give me an opportunity to object—not that I was going to. I was exhausted from today's travels. I plopped down next to Jhanvi who had a strange face.

"Save me, Annie," she whispered just enough in time.

Ashar's stepmother returned with a glass of water which I took begrudgingly. Everyone was watching me as if I were a dolphin jumping through hula hoops.

"Is there something going on?" I asked. Ashar shrugged as if on the same page as me.

"This morning," Ashar's stepmother said, "I collected the dirty clothes to be sent to the washerman. As usual, I checked the pockets so that we don't accidentally send something valuable."

The color left my face. I side-eyed Jhanvi who maintained a straight face, but I already knew the direction where this conversation was headed. Why hadn't she prepared me for this?

"I found this in Ashar's pocket," Ashar's stepmother continued. She brought out the photo I had been searching for. It was hidden right in her cardigan's pocket. This woman did the laundry and checked all our pockets without asking us!

Normally, my maids back home did the same, but I never had anything in my pockets.

I winced as she held up the sonogram.

Ashar's face was blank as he narrowed his eyes at the photo. Jhanvi held my hand with a reassuring smile which was more for herself. Her eyes were pleaded me not to blow her cover. Sunny was watching me and Ashar with a grave expression as if he was trying to piece it together.

"I knew it when you fainted," Ashar's stepmother said with a triumphant smile. As if she had been right all along. "Why didn't you tell us before? I wouldn't taken even more care of you!"

My mouth was sealed. There were no words left inside me to answer this woman.

"I'm going to be a grandfather." Ashar's baba was teary eyed. He got up to give his son a hug and placed a hand on my head for blessings. "I know you hid it because you're still upset with me. Please let me see my grandchild."

Ashar's eyes went to his brother's for some reason. Sunny was even worse than me. His face was icy pale and his jaw set. He rose from his seat and mumbled a congratulations before excusing himself.

Jhanvi hugged me with glassy eyes whispering for me to please go along with the matter.

After another round of blessings, Ashar's stepmother told us to change and get ready for dinner.

I was astonished by how silent Ashar was the entire time. He took the photo from his stepmother and treaded behind me.

As we neared our room, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the open roof terrace. He shut the door and locked it from the outside. I was more surprised by the sliding bolt lock on both sides of the door.

Ashar let out an exaggerated breath. An angry smile touched his lips as if he was holding back.

He held up the photo in my face.

"Who have you been sleeping with?"

* * *

A/N

Please forgive the delay. I have been reading too many books lately. It's so hard to find desi setting fantasy fiction. You guys have any recommendations?

How was the chapter?

How do you think Ashar is gonna feel?

Any predictions?

Do you think Ashar still loves Hayat?

Thanks for all the votes and comments so far. Means a lot! I will try to update soon.

—K-K-Kiran