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Word Count : 2300 Words 

A short but important chapter.

Target : 120 Votes 

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64 | The Weird Pair

| 18th May 2023 |

| Night |

| 2200 Hours |

Spoons and forks clinked against the fine bone china plates as both of them had their dinner in silence under the antique candle chandeliers of the central dining hall.

Placing a piece of chicken in his mouth, he chewed on it as his eyes landed on her for a second.

"I had something to say." She breathed out, meeting his eyes.

"Yes?" He rested his cutlery horizontally on the plate, looking at her keenly.

"Please, don't get me wrong. This is something I have been hesitating to speak about for a really long time now." She sighed, licking her lower lip.

His gaze rested on her wet lower lip for a brief second and then landed back on her deep-set obsidian eyes. He gulped.

Gently placing his left hand on her right hand, which was clutching a fork, he said, "When it's you and I in the room, there shouldn't be a place for anything else, let alone hesitation." He tipped his chin. "Just say it. Crisp and clear."

She nodded. "Anirudh's date of birth is August 22, 2020, so technically, he is 2 years, 8 months, and 27 days old at the moment. Right?"

"Yes." He smiled.

"So, don't you feel that for a child of his age, he speaks too little? I mean children between the ages of 2 and 3 years old generally speak in two- and three-word phrases or sentences. They are supposed to use at least 200 words and as many as 700 to 900 or even 1000 words. They are supposed to ask questions that start with what, who, why, or where, such as 'What is it?' or 'Where is Papa?'." She paused, meeting his eyes. "But he speaks far fewer words than these."

"Honestly," he smiled. "Even I too started speaking very late when I was his age, so it could be a genetic thing." He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand. "But, if it's worrying you a lot, it's better we take him to the doctor. What do you suggest?"

"Sounds fine to me." She smiled back. "Also, about his karate academy, the first class was on the 13th. When is the next one? Just forward me the timetable and other details. Will you?"

"The next class is on the coming Sunday, 21st May." He replied. "They haven't actually sent the final timetable, but once they do, I'll send it to you."

"Alright." She scratched her chin awkwardly. "I had a request, though. Can you please ask Karim Bhai and Gurung to shift to the manor for the time being? Karim Bhai is still in Dehradun, but once he returns to Delhi, can you please request him to shift? Manoramaa has her family to look after, so she can't stay here for obvious reasons. But, at least when we are not around, Anirudh will have Karim Bhai, Gurung, Geeta, Poorna, and the others around him for safety."

The space between his brows narrowed for a split second as he observed her facial expressions, but then the look of skepticism was replaced by a crescent on his visage. "Okay, I will talk to them."

"By the way," he paused, swirling his tongue over his upper lip. "The brat is asleep, plus Poorna and Geeta are there with him. So, how about we go for a walk after dinner? Perhaps even cycling in the compound?"

"Now?" She stared at him half in disbelief, half in amusement.

"Come on. It's not even that late." He shrugged.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright. As you say."

Twenty minutes later, both of them stood in front of the porch with two geared bicycles, one female and the other male.

Hinduja traced her fingers across the brakes of the ocean blue and matte black women's bicycle.

"This is Nirjhara's cycle." Mahadevan's lips curved up faintly. "She loved cycling."

Hinduja glanced at him. This was the first time perhaps that he had voluntarily spoken about his sister.

"It's beautiful." She whispered.

"Grandpa got it." His voice turned a notch low. "Ocean blue for Ira, grey for Daman, and black for me."

"And the purple one?" She asked, referring to the purple bicycle that she saw in the large manor garage.

"That's Didaa's." He whispered, looking her in the eye.

"Oh." She ducked her head down. "Uh, let's go then." She looked up, trying her best to muster up a grin.

"Yes." He smiled.

Stepping forward, they both got on their respective bicycles. She saw him getting started with the pedaling as she clutched the handlebars and pedaled forward, matching his pace.

They slowly pedaled over the vast, wet pavilion encircling the ginormous, grass- and grove-filled compound surrounding the manor.

"The pavilion is slippery due to the rain this evening." She remarked.

He flashed a lopsided smile. "How about a race then?"

"Sure, if you want to kiss the mud." She sassed back.

"Are you challenging me?" He ceased the movements of his cycle.

"What if I am?" She quirked up her eyebrow.

He breathed out, smirking at her. "3"

"2" She clenched her jaw.

"1"

"Go!" She roared.

In an instant, he raised his waist, bent his back while positioning his feet with their heels on the pedals at the lowest point of their arcs, and started cycling forward with a steady yet considerably fast speed.

She, on the other hand, being a neophyte in cycling, pedaled her way ahead at her own pace.

He looked behind for a split second. "Why aren't you racing?!"

She just shrugged, grinning at him. "Ma life, ma rules."

All of a sudden, Mahadevan's cycle skidded forward due to the damp pavement, causing him to lose his balance and control over it. And in an instant, the poor matte black thing crashed onto the wet cement tiles, taking its rider along with itself.

"Jesus Christ!" Her eyes widened with her own cycle losing its control as she and the cycle she was riding tumbled down on the pavilion, landing right on top of the matte black cycle and its rider.

"Ah." He cleared his throat, smiling at her. "I would freaking love it with you on top of me." He whispered. "But, now is not the right time, is it? I mean, I don't have any problem at all but-"

She slowly got up with a few 'ohs' and 'ahs' escaping her lips while staring at him confusedly. "I beg your pardon?"

He bit the insides of his cheeks, curbing the smile trying to take over his face. "Nothing, tigress."

"Whatever." She shrugged.

"Any bruises?" He probed, rising up with the cycle steadily. Arching the kickstand of the cycle on the ground, he inched closer, examining her arms, limbs, and face.

"No." She shook her head. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No." He replied, taking hold of her wrists and examining them.

In a trice, the pitch-black sky thundered as if the dark clouds were cracked wide open. Drop after drop, ice-cold rainwater touched down on their heads, faces, and the other parts of their anatomies, leaving them drenched.

"What's with rain and us?" She looked up, amusedly, a drop of water dribbling down the corners of her eyelashes.

His lips curled up as he palmed her damp right cheek. "It falls when we are together."

Mahadevan's eyes travelled from her wet and translucent short khadi kurti sticking to her slender frame, especially the swells on her chest, to her pale and glistening collarbone and neck, eventually moving on to her damp eyelashes and blooming cheeks. He swallowed heavily as his gaze finally dropped down on her moist lips.

He slowly leaned in, bending his waist to match her height, with the four-chambered organ inside his sternum throbbing at an unnatural pace.

He gulped again, his uneven breaths falling on her face.

She shivered, sensing his face inching closer to hers. Despite the cold drops of rainwater falling on them, the heat surrounding their figures was intense.

But just as he was about to attach his mouth to hers, she turned her face to the other side, causing his lips to land on her right jaw instead.

"We can't." She whispered, shutting her eyes close, not being able to look at him.

He closed his eyes, a weird kind of dejection seeping in through his skin, penetrating his core.

The sable sky thundered again. Tilting his forehead against the side of her head, he breathed out. "Why?"

Despite his eyes being closed, he could feel them burning, as if a trail of hot tears would slither down his visage at any given moment. "Why can't I?" He clenched his jaw. "Why can't we?"

"Because I have a set of rules, and I can't break them yet." She paused and swallowed. "Because I don't deserve you yet." She slowly detached herself from him, turning her face around to tilt her forehead against his. "Because you deserve nothing but the truth, and I am anything but that."

He simpered. "Let me guess, this also has a deadline, like that thing about you addressing me with my name?"

"You can say so." She chuckled. "But until then . . ."

She rose on her tippy toes, palming his cheeks. "Until then..." She breathed into his left ear and softly trailed her right palm across his cheek, eventually resting it on top of his mouth horizontally. In a trice, her lips landed on the back of her hand, which was on top of his lips, indirectly connecting them, rainwater seeping in through the gaps between her slender fingers. "Will this work?"

With his eyes still shut close, his lips curved up under her palm. Enclosing his hands around her waist, he heaved her closer. "Will I get this whenever I want?"

"Yes."

A single drop of tear slid down from the corner of his right eye, mixing with the rainwater, creating a contrast of hot against cold. "Then, yes. This will work until the day you break your rules for me."

She smiled, rubbing her nose against his. "I am married to a weird man."

"Likewise. I am married to a weird woman." He chuckled, "My weird woman."

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| 19th May, 2023 |

| Morning |

| 0815 Hours |

Parking her Scorpio at the parking lot, Hinduja marched through the massive compound of the SIT headquarters, stepping inside through the entranceway.

The hustle and bustle in the main building startled her to some extent. Even though the environment in the investigating body office was mostly busy, today, for some reason, it felt a little too out of order. There was a kind of rush in the air as if something big had transpired over the course of one night.

She strode straight in the direction of the room allotted to the team. Pushing open the door, she entered inside, witnessing everyone looking at the digital screen ahead affixed to the wall.

The speakers connected to the smart screen were blasting with the morning news headlines while their visuals were playing on the screen.

It seemed like some news from a foreign Asian country.

"What happened?" She probed, wending her way towards her chair.

"Malvika Bohra." The DCP stated, glancing at her with a sigh. "Jayachandran Bohra's adopted daughter."

Her face remained impassive, devoid of any feelings. "What about her?"

"She was caught with illegal arms and 10 kilograms of crystal meth in her baggage in Malaysia, at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport, trying to board a flight to Delhi." He narrated. "After being caught, the authorities searched her residence there. They found some twenty kilograms of heroin at her house. As of now, she has been detained there with raids going on in her other properties." Clasping his fingers on the table, he looked back at the screen. "Let's see what happens. There is an extremely narrow chance of her being deported back to India."

"Malaysian laws are very draconian." Rukmini clicked her tongue. "Malvika Bohra's life is pretty much finished, you can say."

"In 2020, Jayachandran Bohra's biological daughter and heir, Shivalika Bohra, that is, Mahadevan Dogra's wife, she died." Gaurav trailed, scratching his moustache. "Now, with this happening with Malvika Bohra, the Bohra family is in a big fix now. She was Jayachandran Bohra's friend's daughter whom he adopted after her father's death."

"Sad." With a theatrical pout, Hinduja's lips drooped, creating an almost comical sad face, as if she were feigning sorrow. She held her hands behind her back, her eyes glued to the news clips flashing on the screen in front of her. "How tragic," she said quietly, almost to herself.

"But she should have thought about the repercussions of her actions before she did what she did." She whispered under her breath.  

Him and I?

A supposedly 'weird' pair.

Is it because we prefer exchanging swords over gifts?

Or is it because we prefer exchanging war cries over words of affection?

Because what people don't understand is that,

What's ice today was once water.

What's silence today was once chatter.

What's cracked today was once whole.

What's rotten today was once ripe.

What's arid today was once humid.

What's sob today was once a smile.

For what's grief today was once joy,

What's dead today was once alive,

And what's grave today was once a garden.

- Her

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Remember Malvika? 

If not, then rewind back to chapter 19 (Mahadevan's diary entry from 2009).

By the way, Happy New Year!

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