-• three more months •-

Rudra

Patience is a waiting game.
Rarely appreciated, though always expected.
A skill I had always lacked.

I was a man with the least emotions. I didn't believe them.

When you believe something, you give it the power to exist, and thus you feel this incandescent, indescribable need to acknowledge it, accept it. I had stripped off those emotions. Their identity. I wanted myself to be less of a human, so I'm never considered weak, flawed, or broken. But also more than a human so I'm always looked upon, envious of, reached for. I wanted to surmount myself with the cadence of my own nature, with the calibre of my own living. I wanted to be enough for myself that I'm never enough for anyone else. I wanted to be more me than I wanted to be loved.

And in all those perspectives of me, my and mine, I became so consumed, clad with high esteem and a sense of superiority, that I began to justify every sin I committed, every wrong I did.

Now I'm neither enough for myself, nor for anyone else.

Taranya walks past me, brushes me off carelessly, like I could be anywhere in the world, in the depths of a volcano or on the top of mountain Everest, and she'll still give me the same attention that she'll give to a stranger on the road.

That hurt.

I wish I had stolen off those laughs, smiles, love laced soft gazes and stored them somewhere safe.

The cruelty of memories lies in the hope of their return.

You'd be wearing a gloomy, miserable moment, and thinking about the memory that shone, sparkled, and clung to your soul like it was put together, woven to perfection, and embellished only for you.

That's what emotions do.

Make you more human.

And a monster who believed in a path led with destruction will only stumble if told to walk with you, feet aligned, steps in synchrony.

So how can she let go of my hand when I haven't learned to walk properly yet? How can she treat me with so much indifference when I'm still stumbling?

What will it take for her to turn back around, reach for me again, and hold my hand?

She suddenly stops and looks over her shoulder. Then she frowns. I watch as she climbs back those stairs, holds the door open as a group of students exit, and enters once they leave.

"Do you need me to mail you an invitation or what?" She snaps. "Stop wasting my time, c'mon!" Grabbing my forearm, she drags me outside. I look down where she holds me, and I hate that I'm wearing a suit today. I wish I had worn a t-shirt, or at least got rid of my blazer and rolled up my sleeves. It's been ages since I've felt her touch on my skin.

The cut near my jaw stings.

I smile.

A touch that's not a threat.

She takes me to her convertible. I don't care that I've come here in my car, and that my guard is probably waiting somewhere, wondering what's taking me so long. He'll be taken care of with a text. I can't miss this chance of driving with her.

She drops my arm and opens the door for me, dramatically insinuating that I get in. I obey. Closing the door with a loud thud, she storms past the bonnet and slides in. I watch her move gracefully to put on her seatbelt, her long, slender fingers deft, quick, conscious. I inhale a deep breath.

Her eyes are now on me.

I blink.

"You're a manchild, aren't you?" She groans and unfastens her seat belt, making me frown, before stealing my breath as she leans in, her marvelous lithe form bent over my lap, and smoothly puts in my seatbelt like one does for a toddler, or a pet, or anyone incapable.

My eyes, frozen on her glorious, shaped ass, widen to shock when she shifts back, the blue oceans filling my gaze. Her brows furrow together, an angry kitten ready to unleash her claws. "Stop gawking at my ass, you pervert." Then she's back in her seat with a gentle thump, her seatbelt on, engine starting with a gentle whir, and we're off to the cafe.

"How's life in London?" I ask reluctantly, after a minute of long silence.

"I'm not interested in making small talks with you."

"What are you interested in then?" I ask, slightly bitter.

She has been treating me like a pest for the last few days. Like I'm a bug, or a chewed piece of gum stuck in her hair that she needs to get rid of as soon as possible. It's frustrating.

"Well for starters, how about not getting married to you?" She counters.

"I'm not forcing you." I cross my arms on the chest and relax, knees spreading further apart. She glances at me, then at my thighs, before looking back ahead. Her knuckles turn white on the wheel. At least the attraction hasn't faded. My chest swells with pride. I look outside the window to hide my smile. Tongue poking the inside of my cheek.

"You're not forcing me?" She repeats in disbelief.

Not literally.

"You've an out. You can say no." I shrug.

"You gave me an ultimatum, Shourya." She grits out.

"I gave you a choice."

"Tomato tomahto!"

"That's a funny way to say the same difference."

"That's not the point!"

"It should be. The original conversation is going nowhere." I mumble.

"It might if you consider the other person's feelings." She takes a left turn.

"When I did, you left me." I remind her.

"I was grieving my father!" She exclaims. "Did you expect me to understand your situation when I was in a worse situation myself!? And that too when you were the one to lie and betray?"

"Betray?" I repeat. "It's not betrayal if I admitted it myself. It's a confession."

She scoffs out a derisive laugh.

"Do you have a book on your shelf titled How to Piss People off in 101 Ways?"

"No," I look at her.

"You should write one."

"Sure. And it'll be dedicated to you." I reply. "To Taranya Singh Chauhan. My biggest inspiration. It wouldn't have been possible without you!" I say earnestly.

"You know what? You were right. This conversation is going nowhere!"

"Took you long enough to accept that I'm always right."

"I hate you." She growls.

"You don't. You're just not smart enough to have a comeback."

"Did you just-" I give her a hundred euro bill. She shuts up and eyes me in confusion. "This was the deal. I get to insult you in exchange for cash." I remind her.

"My God, how are you so infuriatingly smug when you're in the wrong!?"

"Confidence." I answer nonchalantly.

She doesn't retaliate. In fact, she gives up on having a conversation, or an argument with me all at once. For the rest of the drive, we're quiet.

I gaze at her fondly. I missed this.

She cuts off the engine in the parking lot and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut. It's when I turn to open my door that I realise I'm stuck. She has parked the car in a way that the car next to us has completely blocked my way out. My head whips towards the windshield. She's biting on her lower lip to curb the smile.

"Tara, this is not funny. Open the door."

"Tsk," she clicks her tongue.

I exhale deeply and unlock the door again, trying to slip out through the narrow slit. She laughs when I'm able to get only an arm out. It flaps in the air for a moment, stuck. I pull it back in and close the door, watching her slap her knee as she laughs in a way that'd turn heads around in admiration. I can't help but chuckle.

Shaking my head, I decide to climb the driver's seat to get out. In my tight suit, it's no less than a trek. Taranya only laughs harder seeing my struggle. I'm sure watching a huge man clad in a business suit and leather shoes trying to hop around inside a small convertible is nothing less than funny for her.

I stumble out of the car and close the door, supporting my hand on the bonnet as I dust off my pants and sleeves. When I look up, her smile is in its place, mirth shining brightly in her blue eyes. "It's not funny."

"But it is."

I roll my eyes but don't counter. "Shall we?"

She chuckles and starts walking. I open the door for her. The bell above chimes. She enters first, I follow behind. The cafe is mostly vacant. Left for a few university students and highschool kids. The brown interior exudes the farm feel and touch, the fragrant smell of coffee and muffins float in the air. She chooses a table secluded from everyone else, her seat touching the wall. I sit across from her.

A waitress approaches us. Judging from the smile on her face, she knows Tara, and is welcoming towards her. Tara smiles back, before it stiffens when the waitress shifts her eyes on me. She looks at Tara with obvious confusion.

"Tarun's friend." Is my introduction.

No name, no past history, I'm simply Tarun's friend.

But that's enough for the waitress. She doesn't pry any further. Though her eyes linger on me appreciatively.

"Hi, my name is Lucy and I'll be your waitress today. What can I get for you?" I'm asked first.

"I'll take an espresso." I say to her.

She nods, jots it down and looks toward Taranya.

"And I'll take a hot chocolate with-"

"Extra whip cream, I know." The waitress smiles. "You'll be served in ten minutes. Excuse me." Then she leaves, leaving Taranya and I in a heavy silence. We both stare at each other helplessly. She looks away first, thanks to her phone that starts ringing, and I busy myself in appreciating the interior of the cafe.

"I'm at our regular cafe. With Shourya." She answers. Must be Janet if she's speaking about me so openly. "I'll - Janet, I'll tell you what happened. Yes, I know. I will. After I come home." She says. Her voice drops to a whisper, she hisses, "No! Janet, you're not coming here. Please. I'm already so stressed. I'll tell you everything once I come home. Bye." She hangs up aggressively and picks up the glass of water to take a sip.

"You're still friends with her?"

"Excuse me?" She puts down the glass, brows pulled together offensively.

"It was a question." I clarify. "Nothing to be offended by."

She sighs and drinks the water, leaning back on the seat with her arms folding across her chest.

Lucy comes back with our order. She serves me my coffee, Tara her hot chocolate and mutters a swift enjoy before excusing herself. I take a sip of my coffee, scrunch my nose at the quality of the coffee beans and put it down to never pick it up again.

"I'll graduate in June."

I nod.

"We can get married then." She says.

"Sure," I agree, "But I can't trust your words alone." When I say that, she narrows her eyes at me. I pull out a bunch of stapled documents from my blazer pocket and hand them to her. "Read them carefully, sign them, and," I trail, fishing out the Tiffany couple ring box that I slide towards her. "Wear this."

She looks overwhelmed with everything coming at her at once. I give her time to understand, rationalise, and react.

Ignoring the ring, she starts reading the contract. Noticing me watching her in amazement, she meets my eyes, "I'm doing journalism. Knowing how law works is necessary if you need credibility for your research and articles."

I nod, my lips curling at the corners.

"Any desired changes?"

"It looks good. Except I want to add a clause."

"Which is?"

"The agreement will automatically nullify if we decide to stay married even after two years, right?" I nod, "Well, what if in future, say two more years later, I realise it's a mistake and that I don't want this marriage? Because divorce only goes through in cases of domestic abuse or a mutual agreement, none of which I expect from you. So, put in a clause that says, if years down the road I want a divorce, you will give it to me."

Well articulated, clear, precise and downright heartless. This woman cannot stun me more. But I know she'll find new ways so as to not disappoint me.

"No."

"No?"

"Yes, no." I state. "Marriage is not a joke. Divorce is not a joke. In your hypothetical situation, if you want a divorce, I'm bound to give it, yes?" She nods righteously. "Fine. In my hypothetical situation, if we have a kid in that condition, I get full custody. You down with it?"

The upright attitude disappears. She looks down at the papers, now reluctant and undecided.

"Bite what you can swallow." I taunt.

She clutches the pen tightly, her jaw working together. "We- We won't have a kid. Put in the divorce clause." She holds the papers towards me. Certainty in her eyes, one that was missing in her tone.

I hold them from the other end. "Maybe we won't. But I'll still add the clause that says I get the full custody of our future child." I try to take the contract from her hand, she doesn't release her hold. "What? Not so sure anymore? Still don't believe you will have my kids in the future?"

"Fuck you!" She seethes, snatches the papers from me and starts signing them.

"Let's get married first." I smirk.

She holds up a middle finger at me, not sparing me a glance. "The only condition I've to uphold until we get married is to not speak of this contract and our alliance, right?"

"Yes."

"And if either one of us wants to break the contract, we have to transfer the shares we own in the family property to the party withholding the dignity of the agreement as compensation." She cocks a brow at me. I nod. "So smart, dude. You know you're never breaking the contract. This is just to trap me."

"No," I counter, "The opposite, actually. It is to make sure you always have me trapped."

She frowns.

"You own ten percent shares in Chauhan Industries. I own twenty three percent in Rajawat Empire and fifty one percent in Esther Industries. Now tell me, who has more to lose? Who is really trapped?"

She nibbles on the inside of her lip, suddenly unsure of her words.

"Whatever," she murmurs, "You want this. I don't." She signs the remaining blank spaces and returns the papers to me. I take the pen from her and submit my signatures as well. "I'm keeping this copy." She says, shoving the papers in her backpack and closing the zip. Then she picks up her glass of hot chocolate and takes a sip.

"The ring," I tap.

"I can't wear it." She shakes her head. "What will I say to my friends, or worse, my brothers? No, I can't afford to be caught." She puts the glass down and stirs the chocolate around using the paper straw.

I exhale sharply and pluck out the ring from the holder, grabbing her right hand to put on the platinum band in her ring finger. She yelps at the unexpected action. Cradling her hand to her chest, she regards me with disapproval before looking down at the lone diamond glowing in the centre of the ring. I grab mine, slightly thicker, sans the diamond, and put it in my ring finger of the left hand, where it rightfully belongs.

"After our engagement, put it in your ring finger of your right hand." I tell her.

"Forcing is not a love language." She says admonishingly.

"We're not in love yet."

"Hold onto that thought forever." She instructs. Then gazes at the ring for a long time. "The design is outdated."

"It's my mother's." I tell her.

She looks up at me in surprise, and shame.

"Don't misplace it." I say, "Please." And add.

It's the only thing I've heard of my mother. Vikram Chauhan gave it to me when we first met. I don't know how he had it, I never questioned. I was just..... happy to have it.

"Is that- is that your father's?" She looks down at my ring.

I shake my head. "No, I bought this and had that one polished."

She nods, now gazing fascinated at the ring. "I'll keep it safe." Her tone is considerate, honest.

"Finish that," I point towards the hot chocolate.

"Oh yeah," she glances at the clock, swears under her breath and starts downing the hot chocolate. I read the time on my phone. It's close to five. She's an hour late to her dance classes. "Do you need me to drop you off somewhere? To your hotel?"

"No, I'm fine. My guard will pick me up. You can go if you're in a hurry."

"I am," she wipes her mouth with the tissue. "I've classes and I'm already an hour late. God, my Guru is going to grill me out in the open today." She groans, grabbing a bill of twenty from her wallet and slipping it beneath her glass.

"Guru?" I feign confusion.

"It's uhm, it's just these dance classes I take every alternate day. We're told to address our instructor as our Guru." She waves off. "Anyway, see you in three months time, Mr. Rajawat." She gets up, holding out her hand for a formal shake.

Smiling in amusement, I reach forward to shake it. "Sure, Soon-to-be Mrs. Rajawat."

"And I thought you pitied my future husband?" She mocks.

"I still pity him." I say, the smile intact on my face. "But I also think he's incredibly lucky."

"Because he's marrying me?"

"Because you are marrying him." Her breath hitches when I drop a kiss on her knuckles. "Soon, Esther." I gently squeeze her hand before letting go.

She walks off and the door swings shut.

But I've learned it now. Patience.
Mastered it.
There's nothing three months that can teach me that the last three years haven't already taught me.

His povs 🤌

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