• ADVIKA •

“What happened next?” Ishaan asked the moment I was done explaining to him about the hospital chaos.

“I ran away. That was when I spotted your house and…” I paused midway, unable to add words for continuing the sentence.

“Fine. Now… What are we going to do now? Should we go back to your world?”

“Go back to my world?” I raised my voice out of bewilderment and continued, “No fucking way, Ishaan. Aadya Chatterjee would exactly want that from me. She wanted me to give up and go back to my world. That was what she has been—”

“I didn't ask you to go forever,” Ishaan interrupted, his tone calmer than mine. “For now. Until things calm down. I will come for you to your world when that day dawns on us.”

“It won't, Ishaan,” I cut through his words the moment he completed speaking while matching my tone with his calmness. Tapping my index finger on his chest, I questioned, “Do you think Aadya Chatterjee wishes me to go to my universe as your girl?” I released my finger from his chest. “I'm here. If I have to go now, it has to be once and only as the Advika Bansal who is no longer related to Ishaan Ahuja.” The suffocation in my windpipe was abstract to me, which made me pause my speech to exhale a little. Swallowing hard in spite of a lump on my throat, I continued, “We have only two choices. One: End things between us at this moment and part ways. Two: Fight back against your creator till she gives up. What do you say? You know that I will definitely won't back off yet, I am posing this question. What is your call on this?”

***

THREE HOURS LATER…

After convincing Ishaan for me to stay back with him, we went to Cremona, where his parents were relishing their retirement years.

The moment we reached his parents' house that resembled those of a wooden cabin, his mother— Margherita Ahuja— waited at the entrance, still in her gridded apron. Embracing her son while exchanging pleasantries in Italian, Mrs Ahuja broke the hug to shoot a motherly look at me and ask, “You must be Advika Bansal,” in a tone so Italian yet so Indian.

“Yes, ma'am,” I replied while bowing as humble as one would in front of their boyfriend's mother.

“Oh, please! No formalities. Call me Margherita. Or Rita, if you want to make it short.”

“Sure, ma'am.” While receiving a mock glare from Margherita, I corrected, “I mean, Margherita,” earning a motherly smile from her as she led her inside the cabin house.

The house was made of wood all over while adorned with dream catchers, souvenirs from various corners of the world, and pictures that are almost so cheesy as if it was straight out of romcoms.

Mr Ranjit Ahuja was seated at the couch near the fireplace, filling four glasses with red wine and placing them on the teapoy that had playing cards scattered all over.

Then, he looked up at the three of us and shot a fatherly smile at Ishaan and I. “Hello, busy man! How do you do?” After hearing voices coated in Italian accent for an exhaustive amount of times, hearing a voice in an Indian accent felt like I was back to my world.

“I'm grand, Dad,” Ishaan replied with a smile I knew to be fake.

“I can see it,” Mr Ahuja sang while glancing sideways at me and letting out a playful lopsided smile. Shifting his focus fully towards me, he asked, “How are you doing, madam?”

“I'm fine, Sir. And, you don't have to address me so formally. Call me Advika, please,” I requested as I felt the hairs of my back shoot up due to goosebumps at him calling me Madam.

“I will. If only you would stop addressing me like I'm a cop.” I nodded a yes in reply while Margherita chose to interject with a question shot at me.

“What would you like to eat, dearie?” She asked while I couldn't help but be surprised by her good knowledge of the English language.

“Anything, Rita.”

She walked towards the kitchen when we heard the iPad at the bureau rang aloud. Margherita and Ishaan, being the nearest to the iPad, went together and saw what it was. Looking up at Ranjit, Margherita exclaimed, “What a surprise! Aria's on a video call,” referring Aria as Aria Mehta, Ishaan's married elder sister.

“Wow! Give the iPad to me. I'll talk to her first.” Ranjit extended his hand— asking for the iPad— while Margherita sat next to him and connected the call.

Ishaan walked up to me and whispered in a way not to disturb his ecstatic parents, “That's my elder sister.” Expecting me to react as though I didn't know that, he paused and looked at me; then continued after seeing me react the other way. “She left Italy when she was eighteen and went to India for her higher education while getting to know about her fatherland.” My mouth formed an O as I tried to recollect these details from the excerpts of You Belong With Me. “And, that was where she met her now-husband Karan Mehta. Now, she's in Sydney.”

“Sydney?” My eyebrows developed into a frown as I doubted my brain that told me that she was in London, according to You Belong With Me. “But…”

As I took my time to comprehend the details, Ishaan took advantage of it and stated, “That was a year ago, Advika. She shifted to Sydney for Karan. He's got transferred there.”

That was a fact dawned upon my mind: things keep moving here even if an author had put a full stop on what they had planned. I mean, yes, I knew this fact right when I saw W: Two Worlds years ago. But… To realise and acknowledge it was something else.

“Ishaan!” My philosophical self took a rest as we heard Margherita calling him and saw Ishaan walking up to her. “Take this. She wants to talk to you.”

Ishaan accepted the iPad and sat on the couch while Margherita and Ranjit moved away slightly from their initial position. After them exchanging pleasantries, I saw Ishaan looking at me and gesturing to come to him, probably to introduce me to his dear sister.

As I sat next to him, the tanned-yet-fair girl in a grey oversized T-shirt, wedding chain, and the vermilion on her forehead placed her black eyes on me with a look of playfulness and asked, “Ah! Looks like we have a new guest here. Care to introduce her, His Highness?”

“Well… Meet my other half, Advika Bansal,” he introduced and looked at me with a genuine smile.

“Other half?” Aria scoffed and whispered at me dramatically, “Since when did that dumbass become your husband? You look like someone with a good taste, but hey— I'm learning that looks can be deceiving.”

“She does have a very exceptional taste, which was why she chose me,” he spat, emphasizing on the last word.

“Dumbass,” Aria mouthed in a dramatic whisper and returned to her normal tone as she turned to me and asked, “Now tell me, young lady. When did this disaster happen?”

“Four months ago,” I stated in a polite manner and shot a smile of the same manner.

“Cool! When's the wedding, by the way?” She questioned and winked, assuring that she was just kidding.

“Aria, shut up!” Ishaan hissed— his face in crimson red— therefore earning a witch-like laughter from Aria.

“Just joking, kids. Don't worry,” Aria assured as she was done laughing at her red-faced brother. “By the way, how's life for you all?”

“Quite good without you here,” Ishaan replied in a tone of playfulness and a wink.

Before we could see Aria squint her eyes at Ishaan and whisper cuss words, we saw the door behind Aria open and a man in his late twenties, a pistachio green shirt and cream white cargo pants approached Aria, whispering, “Aria, come fast here, please. It's an emergency.”

“Oh?” Aria frowned out of supposed perplexity and looked at him. “I'll be there, Karan.”

Karan nodded his and walked out of the room as Aria whispered at us, “Looks like my husband needs me now. I'll be back, guys. See you all!”

With that, the iPad transitioned to the home screen of Skype as Ishaan looked at me as if he was to tell me something— though he didn't.

He didn't need to. His eyes and his smile had said how happy he was at that moment after all those he faced.

***

“How much do you know about Ishaan?”

I heard Margherita— who was lying beside me on the bed in her room— asked me this while I was trying to sleep with my eyes closed.

“Well… I think I know quite a lot about him. But, not as much as you know; I'm sure.”

I succeeded being humble in spite of the fact that I knew quite a lot more things than Margherita does.

Letting out an “I'm impressed” chuckle while I sat up on the bed, Margherita sat up as well and inquired, “I hope… Has Ishaan ever told you about his life before you?”

As I realised that she wanted to talk about the female lead of You Belong With Me, I replied, “Ishaan did tell me about Maahi, Rita.”

Her face, white with realisation, went straight as she tried to react. “Oh! Glad that you knew. You… You just… You know, it's been around a year since we saw him as happy as he was today. Ranjit and I had already known what the reason was. And, as his parents, all we can wish for is that this happiness lasts forever. Advika, Ishaan never trusts people so easily. Especially after Maahi happened. If he had told you this…” Pausing to let out a deep exhale through her mouth, Margherita continued, “I hope you understand. Trust me, if I ever found that you broke my son's heart… You'd regret your existence for the rest of your lifetime. He…” She sighed for another time and continued, “Take care of him. Good night.” Whispering her good night wishes, she rested on the bed, letting me sit on the bed until she spoke up again. “Sleep earlier, child. I have plans for you tomorrow.”

Smiling at Margherita, I rested on the bed and whispered, “Don't worry, Rita. I'll ensure that I spoil your son with all the love have for him. Trust me,” more like a note to myself than a reassurance to Margherita.

***

THE NEXT DAY…

The noise outside the bedroom sounded so much like commotion that I was forced to wake up from my sound sleep. The sky outside the window looked cloudy and grey as I looked at the time: five minutes to six in the morning. I looked to the other side of the bed, only to find Margherita to be nowhere.

Surprised by the sound I had heard in the early morning, I woke up from the bed and strolled towards the living room— only to be pulled by a force from the kitchen.

The next thing I saw was Ishaan pinning me to the wall with his right hand still gripping mine. “Advika,” he whispered in a hoarse tone. “Don't look in the living room.”

“Why? What happened—?” I tried to look at the living room, only to be forced by Ishaan to look back at him with his hand holding my chin and rotating it to his side.

“I told you,” he whispered in a tone that was deeper due to his teeth being so gritty. “Don't. Look. Also, don't be so loud. Okay?”

“Okay, I won't,” I whispered in response, trying to suppress my grin, noticing his secretive behaviour. “But, what happened?”

Ishaan then broke into silent sobs and slowly flowing tears, thus clearing off the grin out of my face.

“Ishaan?” I called him, still maintaining my low whisper as he commanded me to be. Cupping his face with my hands, I bent down to reach his eye’s length, I asked, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Mom… Mom was found dead on the lawn last night. Police claim that she might have been murdered.”

With that, Ishaan had completely broke into silent sobs while I stood still, perplexed on how to react— whether to show my unbelievability on Margherita's death or to show my grief for the same or to question the Italian Police Department’s inefficiency in finding the cause of a person's death— let alone feeling furious at Aadya Chatterjee for killing Margherita.

“How could the police say so?” I hissed, involuntarily raising the voice out of immeasurable rage.

“I don't know,” he sighed while shaking his head drearily and hanging them low.

The chaos which was absent between us returned as we heard Italian yells and we looked at the direction where the sound came from, only to find two cops still yelling at us.

Instinctively, I gripped Ishaan's hand and asked, “Is there any escape route other than the main door?”

“Yes. You need to get to the backyard first,” he whispered while pointing his chin at the open door which could possibly lead us to the backyard.

Without giving any replies, I gripped his hand as tight as though I would die if I gripped it less tighter and ran towards the backyard via the door that led us to it, forcing the cops to match our pace.

Taking a sharp right turn, we stuck to the wall while I whispered, “How do we go outside now?

Sighing as though he was fed up already, he replied, “You need to take the other way round for it.”

Muttering a “Fuck it” under my breath, I pointed my chin to my left, asking him to keep an eyes on the cops, as I tiptoed towards my right and looked out for the cops.

Finding the situation favourable, I looked at Ishaan, who looked back at me with no signs that we were doomed. I gestured at him to reach the escape from his side while I tiptoed from my side.

I reached the opposite side of the door that could lead us outside while I saw Ishaan bending between the cops and yelling, “Advika! Come fast,” urging me to run faster and join him alongside.

With that, we ran forever and ever without getting fed up as if this was our life, with an unexplainable sense of fear— of leading a life like this forever— joined us as our third wheel.

***

Now... Before cursing me for raining all this trauma to our beloved pookies, hold on.

There's more to it. *wink*

See you soon, peeps!