-• get together •-

[August, 25th 2006]

"Your highness,"

Sara looks up from the book laid open in her lap and towards the maid waiting patiently at the doorstep of her bedroom. Tucking the wayward lock of her hair behind her ear, she addresses the woman politely, "Yes, Bhoomi?"

"His majesty wanted to speak to the house staff tonight. Would you be kind enough to remind him we're waiting in the great hall for him?"

Sara closes the book and lowers her feet on the floor, putting on the slippers before she gets up, picking up her discarded shawl and draping it over her shoulders. "Sure, do you know where he is?"

"In the library, I suppose? I'm not sure. We tried to page him but he isn't responding."

Sara nods. "I'll check. The library on the first floor?"

"Yes," Bhoomi nods.

Sara walks out of the room and pulls the door close, holding the key clutched in her hands as she ascends the stairs to the first floor. She reaches the main library and grabs the iron handles, pushing the doors open as they grunt. Smell of wood and old books welcome her. She shivers softly in the cold night of monsoon, her steps pattering down the marble flooring towards the endless aisles of shelves going as high as fifteen feet. "Yuvraaj?" Instead of a gravelly response, her own lucid voice echoes back. "Yuvraaj?" She calls out again, clicking her tongue when she fails to find her husband. He's as giant as an elephant. How well can he hide himself without even intending to hide? This man.

Unlocking her phone, she dials his number and presses call. The sound of his phone ringing whips her around. She follows the sound to the southwest corner of the library, discovering a door that reveals a small staircase. She walks in and faces another entrance, having to crouch down to enter the room. A gasp leaves her mouth at what she encounters. A library inside a library. Thoughtlessly, she closes the door behind her and walks in deeper, in awe of the shelves surrounding her, thick books stacked neatly in them.

"What are you doing here?"

She yelps and turns around, knocking the book out of his hand as her ankle twists and arm flails, her feet losing their touch with gravity. Yuvraaj reacts fast, his arm shooting out in reflex as he yanks her to his chest, their bodies flushed against each other.

Eyes meet.

Her golden swirls hold up boldly against his endless, dark pools.

Like night and earth.

Time and space.

And the gravity that bends them both; their fates, inextricably linked forces, never to exist without one another.

Upon finding her balance, she peels herself out of his arms and stands straight, tugging the shawl tighter around her frame. He sighs in what sounds like agitation and bends to pick up his book, turning to head towards his desk, stopping abruptly when he notices the closed door. His body stiffens in alarm. "Did- Did you close the door?"

She nods.

"Why?" He appears pissed off.

She frowns in confusion. "It's cold outside."

His face screws in disbelief. "What a dunderhead! I know you're incapacitated in the matters of brains but did you not, even for a split second stopped to think why in the Satan's hell would I leave a door open when I'm such a private person?"

"No!" She snaps. "I'm not a psychic!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why did you follow me here, you troubled little nutcase!?"

She gasps. "Mind your words, Yuvraaj. I did not follow you here. It's clear who has criminal-like tendencies among us. I was simply here to remind you of the meeting you were supposed to hold with the household staff. They're waiting for you in the great hall. I even called you!" She shows her phone screen. "If you can't use a phone, don't have it!"

"The door is jammed." He tells her.

"And why do I care-" she blinks. "What?" Barely a whisper.

"The door swells and gets jammed in the monsoon season. It's why I left it open." He clarifies.

Sara panics almost immediately. Pushing him aside, she storms towards the door and grips the handle, trying to pull it open. "Open this, please!"

"It's not opening until someone pushes it from the outside."

Shocked aureate eyes snap towards him. "No!" She breathes harshly. "No, please open this! Hello!" She yells loudly, fisting her hands to pound on the doorframe.

"I share the same repulse at the thought of sharing a proximity with you, but you don't need to be so dramatic about it. I'll call someone to open it for us." He moves towards the desk, reaching to pick up his phone when he hears a thump. He looks over his shoulder, alarmed when he finds her on the floor, struggling to breath. "Sara!" Two quick strides and he's kneeling in front of her, his hands flailing haphazardly to help her but his reflexes weren't trained for these kinds of situations. "Sara, what's wrong? Are you okay?" He levels his gaze with hers.

Mouth agape, chest constricted, she rubs her throat and chest, wanting to breath but thrashing helplessly in the mercy of her incapable lungs.

"Wh- What's happening?" He holds her shoulders timidly.

"Claustro- claustrophobic!" She breathes out. "Open this door! Door!" She slaps her hand on the doorframe.

He quickly calls one of his guards upstairs to get them out before crouching back before her. "Is there- is there any other way I can help you until then?"

Her hand falls on his thigh, the other clutching his shirt and he stiffens. It's the first time she was willingly touching him. Then he sees her fighting for a breath and shakes his head. She's clearly not aware of what she's doing.

She tries saying something but it comes out incoherent. He leans closer to hear better. "What?"

"Dis- Distract me." She whispers breathlessly.

He leans back, thinking of a way to distract her if she already knows where she is. All his efforts are in vain if she's aware of her current predicament. So he takes a sharp breath and raises his arms, wrapping them hesitantly around her shoulders and pulling her closer. He stiffens when her face falls on his chest with a gentle thump, right where his heart beats. He pats her back awkwardly. "Breath, Sara, breath." He whispers.

She tries.

He repeats.

His hand, now natural as it pats her back.

"You- Your heart," she says in a stifled voice.

"What about it?" He asks softly.

"It's racing too fast." She mumurms, clutching his sweatshirt and burying her face into his chest.

Yuvraaj flusters. "Is it?"

She hums.

"Exactly how fast is it beating? Count it for me, please." He requests.

"O- one," she tries. "Two," she inhales a deep breath, "three... four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve-"

The door opens. "Are you okay-" the guard bows his head and steps back upon encountering the intimate moment the couple were engrossed in.

Sara pulls away from his chest, tucking her hair back and picking up the shawl from near her feet. She gets up, he follows, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches her fix her appearance. Their eyes meet, the contact bridged awkwardly for three long seconds before both of them are looking away. She takes a step towards the door. He clears his throat, holding the door open for her. She turns around at the threshold, the fringe of her cashmere shawl sliding down her shoulder from one side. Their eyes meet again. And she utters the words he had never expected to hear from her. "Thank you," then she turns around and leaves.

For the first time, their umpteenth encounter, albeit unwanted still, doesn't leave a bitter aftermath in his heart.

🕛

[ P R E S E N T ]

In her head, saying thank you was her way of expressing gratitude, two words said out of compulsion towards the man who offered her compassion in the time of need despite the hostility between them. If he can set out their differences aside to help a person in need, she can do the same.

Then why did he look at her like that?

She had to confront her fears so out of the blue yet he was the one to look more vulnerable than her.

Shaking her head, she pushes open the glass doors and steps out in the windy morning. The hem of her knee-length crepe skirt flutters. She steals a glance over her shoulder and baulks upon seeing him walk out of the hospital almost immediately after her, their eyes meeting once again, with him being the one to look away first as he slides in the car waiting for him and drives away past her standing figure. She looks at the departed four wheeler, unaware of his gaze on her reflection in his rear view mirror.

The shrill sound of horn breaks her out of the daze. She looks ahead, at Shourya who sits in her car on the driver's seat, raising his brows in confusion as he leans over the window to look where she was staring so intensely. "What is it?"

Shaking her head in response to his question, she moves around the bonnet and opens the door of the front seat, sinking into the plush leather and warm smell of lavender.

"What did the doctor say?" Shourya asks as he pulls out of the hospital premise and back on the busy roads of Jaigarh.

Distracted in her head, tormented by her own thoughts, Sara fails to hear him. Only managing to utter a beffudled, "huh?" Her gaze flits towards him in a hurry, confusion so clear on her face it makes Shourya frown. She's never the one to look so disturbed.

"I asked what the doctor said? Is it a bad news?" He glances at her worriedly. "Should we be worried?"

Sara shakes her head. "No, it's nothing. Just indigestion."

She had been forced to go to the hospital by her uncle when he found her in her bedroom moaning and writhing in pain. After surviving on instant noodles and packet food the entire week, she faced the consequences of her poor eating habits this morning when she was unable to get out of her bed without tearing up due to the pain.

"Only indigestion?" He repeats to be sure.

She hums, resting her head on the seat and closing her eyes to the fresh breeze breaking the spell of sweltering heat in the midst of summer.

"Breath, little rebel. Breath."

He's the last person she wanted to fall weak in front of. But weirdly, in all the moments she had been weak in her life, he was always there, either expectedly or unexpectedly. When she felt the first wave of panic hit her, she knew he wouldn't abandon her or ignore her, but she never imagined he'd simply take her into his arms and use the only efficient way to work on her in moments like these: distraction.

He remembers.

He still remembers what she told him.

She doesn't know what to think of it. She was better off not knowing this piece of information. And she wanted to chuck it aside now too, because who was she finding a silver lining in; a man so tormented by his past he believes the people around him deserve the same? If anything, she now owes him for helping her, and she's half expecting him to stand in front of her anytime soon, demanding to return the favour.

A phone call disrupts her from her thoughts. She looks down at the screen. "Shourya, stop the car at the side of the road and get me these medicines." She forwards the prescription paper.

"You didn't get them at the hospital?" He asks incredulously.

"No, I forgot."

Huffing, the young man parks the car at the curb and steps out of the car, taking the prescription along. As soon he's out of hearing range, she answers the call. "Yes, Vaidehi?"

"I found a way!"

"Did you?" Sara asks curiously. She thought she'd have to spoonfeed the woman again.

"Yes. He has type 2 diabetes and has to take insulin shots every time his blood sugar level rise. I can replace his insulin with the necessary dose of suxamethonium chloride required to paralyse him. Do you think that'll work?"

"How do you know what to use to get the expected results?"

"Uhm, I was a nurse before he married me. I used to work in the anaesthesiology department before he told me to leave the job and become a housewife."

"Oh," Sara says, surprised. How did she not know about that? She should have looked more into Vaidehi's past.

She had assumed her role as an equal accomplice and might have foolishly missed this golden opportunity of Vaidehi coming up with a solution herself.

"How are you going to acquire the required dose of that compound? I mean, I don't think it's legal."

"I know. My cousin brother is a pharmacist. He'll help me."

"Is that safe?"

"Yeah, of course. He black markets drugs all the time. He won't know who he is sending it to."

Sara nods. "Okay then, do it."

Vaidehi breaths out aloud. "I need to ask for another favour,"

"What is it?"

"Will you take Vishal to your home for a few days? I don't want him to be there when I- I do that to his father." She says guiltily.

Sara hums. "I will. Don't worry."

"Thanks."

"And just to let you know, their passports are ready."

"Alright, I'll start the procedure for Visa." She tells the woman. "Let's not call each other until you do it."

"Yeah, good idea." Vaidehi agrees. Sara pulls away to hang up when she speaks again. "I'm- I'm doing the right thing, right Sara?"

"As a mother? You're absolutely right at your place. As a wife? I don't know." Sara replies honestly, giving her last chance to put an end to this.

"He never loved me though. He never considered me his equal. The wife in me only fears him." She says in a vulnerable tone.

"Then it's time she's set free." Sara hangs up.

Holding her phone in her lap, she stares outside the busy street bustling with people of all ages. Shourya jogs through them, reaching their car and settling inside, huffing out a tired breath. He drops her medicines in her lap and revives the engine.

They reach home thirty minutes later.

Shourya walks in first, holding her purse and medicines for her before disappearing around the hallway towards her room. She enters in and unfurls her scarf, dropping it on the couch before making her way towards the kitchen.

Halting abruptly at the threshold, she takes the scene in front of her with surprise.

Her uncle and his daughter-in-law stand in the kitchen, preparing something, talking over the sound of pressure cooker whistles, smiling and laughing as if they have known each other for years. Sara backtracks immediately, needing to find Shourya when she bumps into another uninvited individual. Rudra puts his hands on her shoulders and straightens her.

"You- what - what's happening -" she looks over her shoulder before looking back at him.

He sighs defeatedly. "It's okay. I had the same reaction when my wife dragged me here under the guise of taking me out on a date." He snorts and walks into the kitchen past her. She follows reluctantly, stopping at the entrance again as Rudra moves awkwardly in the kitchen to fill himself a glass of water. She signals him to bring herself one too. He nods.

The unwanted happens when she turns to leave. Taranya notices her. "Oh, Sara!"

Sara turns back around, clearing her throat as she regards Taranya with a polite nod.

"We were waiting for you. The lunch is almost done. Papa said you weren't feeling well this morning so I made you khichdi. I hope you like it!" She says cheerfully.

"Papa?" Rudra picks out the word of honorific that surprises him.

"Yes, Papa!" Taranya confirms. "He said he likes it when I call him that." She smiles at her father-in-law. Virat nods happily.

Rudra shakes his head in disbelief and walks out of the kitchen, dragging Sara along. The two end up in the balcony.

"This is so awkward." She mutters, glancing towards the kitchen again.

Rudra scoffs. "More than awkward, it's unsettling."

Sara holds the balcony grills. She's aware of her uncle's desperation to become a father figure to Rudra. Maybe she shouldn't be expressing her discomfort so openly. "He's trying so hard."

Rudra leans in next to her. "He's shoving himself in our lives." He says bitterly.

Sara clears her throat. If Uncle Virat heard him, he'd be hurt.

"By the way, are you still fixed on buying Rajawat Palace?" He asks her. "I think it's a waste of money. It had value because of its history, which is no longer treasured by its people. It's almost on the outskirts of the city. It's as good as gone. Why would you want to buy it? If there were no repercussions, I'd have sent a bulldozer over it." He grits out.

"I still want to buy it."

"Why?"

"There are events in history that are never noted down, perhaps because the lives of those people weren't considered as important, but that doesn't mean they were lived any less."

He frowns.

She smiles. "You wouldn't understand. For you, it was the place you were abandoned in. For me, it's where I belonged, it's my mother."