Thank you so much for the support on the previous chapter! Can we please get 110 votes on this chapter?

Warning: It's a long chapter! :)

~The Conundrum~

Sanjana Thapar 

It was official. My life was boring, and it sucked. I wasn't kidding. My life had become a long episode of a sitcom, minus the fun parts, of course. I used to think the hardest part of university would be surviving without my house help's special cheese sandwich and strawberry milkshake, but I was wrong. So wrong. I was literally drowning in business theories that seemed invented purely to torture students.
The past two weeks had been a never-ending loop of waking up late, running to the cafeteria where Varun would already be waiting with a scowl and a thick pile of notes. He would spend the first half of our morning study session tormenting me by quizzing on the material we learnt the previous day and the rest of the morning explaining theories and names of people who no one cared about outside of the textbooks. Then came the mad dash to class, trying to keep up with him while he barely acknowledged my existence, almost like he was embarrassed to be seen with me. What was up with that? If anything, I should be the one feeling embarrassed. My social status was tanking, and now I was known as one of the "nerdy" students.
When evening rolled around, Varun would show up at my room at exactly 7:30. If you guessed he arrived with a scowl and a thick pile of notes, you'd be wrong. He also came armed with a heavy dose of annoyance and dirty looks, which he generously distributed to anything I said or did. I'm pretty sure he even threw a dirty glare at my teddy bear, Goldilocks. The poor thing did nothing except exist, and still, Varun had it out for him.

Honestly, Varun was the worst. My brilliant plan to dig up dirt on him was going nowhere, all because he refused to talk about anything other than the syllabus. Every time I tried to make conversation, he would just ignore me and continue droning on about our studies like I hadn't said a word. Sometimes, he'd remind me of the ridiculous rules he had mandated for our study sessions. My favorite? When he'd pack up and leave if I got too chatty. Twice, I managed to stop him and keep the session going, but once, he actually left and then pretended nothing had happened the next morning.

He was so infuriating. Usually, I could play boys like a fiddle, but not Varun. Once, he asked me to take notes, but my nails were wet—I had just put on a metallic blue polish to boost my concentration, obviously—so I told him to do it for me. Instead of helping, he poked each of my nails and smudged the polish on every single finger. Then, with a straight face, he said, "There, now you don't have to worry about ruining your nails. Now, quickly take notes or I'll leave." Another time, he gave me a quiz to finish before our next session, so I spent nearly two hours, writing in perfect, clear handwriting until my brain felt like mush. The next day, he took one look and said, "Use lined paper like normal adults. I got a migraine just by looking at this." After that, he made me add "not using kawaii stationery" to our rule list.
Oh, and let's not forget when I casually mentioned that his bright purple sweatshirt didn't pair well with his jeans. He glared at me and told me to never give him fashion advice again. This guy was a real piece of work.
And heaven forbid I ever get hungry during our marathon study sessions. I once dared to eat a bag of chips while he was explaining Porter's Five Forces. He stopped mid-sentence, stared at me like I'd just committed a crime, and then added "no eating" to the list. Apparently, my crunching was "distracting."
Varun also had this infuriating habit of correcting everything I did. My handwriting? "Too messy." My highlighting? "Too colorful." My study breaks? "Too frequent."
"Who's got you frowning like that?" NK Uncle asked as he watched me. He was a regular at the hospital, someone I spent a lot of time with whenever I volunteered. Like many patients in the oncology department, he was alone most of the time—divorced, with both kids settled abroad.
I grinned, holding up the arts and crafts project we were working on with some of the younger patients. "My flowers aren't uniform."
NK Uncle laughed. "Come on! How gullible do you think I am?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "Who else? My tutor from hell."
"What's his name again?" he asked, showing me the flower he'd cut out. It looked nothing like a flower.
"Varun," I mumbled, trying to fix his botched creation."This is boring. Let's go for a walk outside," he said, frowning at his pile of messed-up craft work.
"But—"
"Take him away. He's ruining everything," one girl complained.
"Excuse me?" NK Uncle said, mock-offended. "I'll have you know I always came first in all the arts and crafts competitions I participated in."
"First from the end?" a young boy wearing a toque asked.
"Shh," his mother scolded, though she too couldn't control her laughter at NK Uncle's handiwork.
"You, little—"
"Alright! Alright!" I said, trying to calm everyone down. "Come on. Let's go," I added, moving to stand behind his wheelchair. I began pushing him through the corridors, smiling and waving at any doctors or patients we passed.
As we approached the entrance of the hospital, NK Uncle looked up at me. "So, is the tutor from hell giving you a lot of trouble?"
"So much trouble," I groaned. "He's a real piece of work. I'm pretty sure he's going to ban me from smiling during study sessions next. He's already banned yawning."
He laughed and sighed slightly as he felt the breeze. "Sounds awful. Why don't you just fire him and find another tutor?"
"Because he's not that bad, actually. I mean, yeah, he's strict, and I swear he's allergic to smiles, but he's a good tutor. It's because of him that I got 87% on the quiz yesterday."
"87%? What a nerd!" he teased. When I rolled my eyes, he squeezed my hand. "I'm just joking. That's amazing. And I just remembered, did you get me tickets for your talent competition or what?"
I tugged his shawl tighter around him. NK Uncle had been excited to come watch my performance ever since I told him about it. It has taken a bit of effort since he was neither a parent nor guardian but I had managed to get him a seat. "Of course. Front row seats." I paused as I noticed Varun walking toward us, his eyes glued to his phone, oblivious to his surroundings. I still hadn't gotten a chance to inquire about his last visit to the hospital. I still had to come up with a clever scheme because the hospital staff wouldn't just divulge information to me because of privacy reasons.
"Hi," I chirped, stepping in front of him to block his way.
He looked up, startled. No smile, just his usual mask of nonchalance. "What are you doing here?" I held up my volunteer badge before stuffing it back in my pocket. "I told you I volunteer here."
He nodded, just as he was about to step away he noticed the man with me. With a fond smile, I introduced them. "This is NK Uncle. One of my favorite patients and NK Uncle, this is Varun. My classmate."
NK Uncle squinted at Varun, then his eyes widened as if a light bulb had gone off. "Wait a minute... Varun? As in the Varun? The tutor from hell?"
"Uncle!" I blurted out, giving him a sharp look, but the damage was already done.
Varun's eyebrow arched slightly, but his expression remained frustratingly neutral, unreadable as always.
Realizing his mistake, NK Uncle quickly averted his gaze, suddenly fascinated by something in the distance. "Oh, uh, is that Dr. Patel over there? I think I need to discuss... um... my medication with him!"

And just like that, NK Uncle wheeled himself away at a speed I'd never seen before, leaving me standing there, utterly mortified.

"I..." I began, trying to find the right words, but Varun brushed past me before I could continue.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, hurrying to catch up with him.

"Why would I be mad?" he replied, his tone cool and detached.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling my frustration grow. "Umm, because I told NK Uncle you were the tutor from hell?"
"If that's what you think of me..." He shrugged, his indifference hitting me like a slap.
"So you don't even feel a little bad that I called you the devil?" I probed, hoping for some reaction, anything.
He shrugged again, his voice calm and almost dismissive. "I don't really care what you think of me."
Wow. That stung. For the first time in my life, I felt completely unimportant and insignificant. Did he really think so little of me that my opinion didn't even matter? I shook my head. This wasn't the time to throw a pity party. I had a mission to complete.
I leaned closer and noticed he was dialing a number. "Why are you calling Tabassum?" I asked, peeking over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of any messages. He quickly pulled his phone away before I could read anything.
Just then, a soft voice called out, "Varun?"
We both turned to see a woman in her late forties, dressed in a loose pink tunic. There was something familiar about her, and it took me a moment to see the slight resemblance between her and Varun.
"Mom," Varun said, walking toward her, but her eyes were fixed on me. I smiled and stepped forward, my curiosity piqued.

"Hello, Aunty!" I greeted warmly. "I'm Sanjana."
"Sanjana," she repeated, her voice soft and almost reverent as a small smile tugged at her lips. "Such a pretty name."
"Mom, she's not—" Varun began, but his mother gently placed her hands on my arms. Her touch was incredibly delicate, almost as if she feared I might shatter under the slightest pressure.
"You're so pretty," she whispered, her tone filled with a quiet awe. "Just like Varun described." Her eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and sadness. "I've wanted to meet you for such a long time, but Varun said you had exams and were busy with other activities on campus."
I smiled awkwardly, my mind racing. Varun told her I was beautiful? Well, obviously. I *am* beautiful. But why would he mention that to his mother?
"I can't believe my Varun has a girlfriend." Her voice trembled with emotion. "When he told me about you, I thought he was lying for my sake, but then he promised to introduce us." She beamed with happiness, but there was a lingering melancholy in her eyes. "I'll go tell my co-worker. She said you both weren't serious and that's why you were avoiding visiting, but now I can tell her she was wrong and then we can leave."
I whipped around to face Varun the moment his mother was out of earshot, my annoyance bubbling to the surface. "You told your mother we were dating?"
Varun's face remained impassive, but I could see a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—cross his eyes. I couldn't believe he'd lie to his mother like this. And the irony wasn't lost on me. Here was the guy who pretended not to care about me, telling his mother we were together.
"No, of course not. I told her I was seeing a girl. I'm dating Tabassum," Varun replied, his voice laced with frustration.
"You're dating her? But you said there was nothing going on between the two of you," I accused, feeling both confused and betrayed.
"I'm not dating her."
"But you just said—"
"Can you just shut up for a second and let me think?" he snapped, cutting me off. "I... You're finally here?" He shifted his attention as Tabassum approached, looking just as confused as I was.
"Sorry, my phone died," she apologized, glancing at me with that familiar disdain. I frowned, irritated by the way she always seemed to look down on me. It was clear she didn't like me, and the feeling was mutual.
"Mom thinks she is my girlfriend," Varun said, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath.
"Why would she think that?" Tabassum asked, her brow furrowing.
"What's with those expressions?" I shot back, annoyed. "Why can't Varun date me? His mother thinks I'm very pretty, by the way."
"Of course she does," Tabassum scoffed, crossing her arms. "There's nothing apart from your beauty that you can offer."
"Why are you being such a bitch? All I was saying was—"
"Can you both stop?" Varun interjected, his tone exasperated.
"Why are you mad at me? She's the one picking a fight for no reason."
"Look, I have no time for this," he said, running a hand through his hair.
"Tabassum, please," Varun pleaded with his girlfriend who isn't actually his girlfriend.
"Tell Aunty that she isn't your girlfriend and I am," Tabassum demanded flatly.
"How am I supposed to do that?" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "Such a mess."
"Come here," she hissed, pulling him aside. They stepped away to conspire, leaving me standing awkwardly, straining to hear their hushed conversation. All I could make out were some frantic hand movements and the occasional glance in my direction as if I were some strange specimen they were trying to dissect.
Finally, Varun walked back to me, looking weary. "I didn't want to put you in this situation, and you can say no if you want to," he mumbled, his eyes filled with a strange mix of guilt and desperation. "But my mom isn't doing well... physically and mentally."
My heart sank. The thought of his mother being sick made my stomach twist. "She... the idea of me having a girlfriend made her happy, so I kinda ran with it. Tabassum agreed to be my fake girlfriend in front of my mom and was supposed to meet her today, but she saw you with me and misunderstood everything. So could you please pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my mother?"
"Fine. I'll do it," I said immediately. It was for his mother, not him. Screw him and his rude girlfriend who isn't his girlfriend. "But only in front of your mom, okay? No one else."
"Of course," he agreed, almost too quickly. "Well, we... Mom, my 'girlfriend,' and I had plans to watch a movie and then go to dinner."
"I guess I can make it work. But next time, I'll need some notice."
"Don't worry. I'm hoping there won't be too many 'next times,'" he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"You're making a big mistake," Tabassum warned, shaking her head. "Trust me." With that, she turned and walked off, her anger palpable.
"Why is she so rude? I haven't even done anything to her," I muttered. Then I shrugged it off and focused on the task at hand. "Anyway, forget about her... What have you told your mother about our 'love story'?"
Varun adjusted his glasses and shrugged. "Nothing much. Just that we go to the same college and we like each other."
I scrunched my face in disgust. "What a boring love story. We need to bedazzle it a little. We could say—"
"No," he cut in, firm but not mean. "There's no need for that. Keep it simple. The more you bedazzle it, the harder it'll be to keep track of the stories you make up."

This was going to be the worst fake relationship of my life.

                                                                                               ____

Okay, DNA works in mysterious ways. How else could one explain how the most nurturing, angelic woman could give birth to the most insufferable and cantankerous man alive?

When Varun had said we would be going to a movie, I thought we would be going to the multiplex by the campus, instead we walked to an older building a few streets away. I had passed by the building a few times and with its worn-out sign, peeling paint and lack of paterons. In my mind, it had always been the forgotten set of a B-grade horror film, not a functioning cinema.

As we stepped into the dimly lit lobby, I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose at the worn carpet beneath our feet.

"Are you uncomfortable, dear? We could go to the other theater if you prefer," Aunty's voice cut through my discomfort, her eyes brimming with genuine concern.

Before I could muster a polite refusal, Varun's gruff voice interjected. "We've already purchased the tickets." His tone was as warm as a freezing winter night.

"It's fine, Aunty," I reassured her, forcing a smile to ease her worried expression. "I've never experienced a single-screen theater before. It'll be fun!"

As we settled into our creaky seats, the ancient springs groaned in protest, as if sharing Varun's apparent disdain for my presence. Wedged between the mother-son duo, I noticed their stark contrast. Varun slouched in his chair, his face a masterpiece of scowls and frowns, avoiding eye contact. His mother, on the other hand, was a beacon of warmth, her smile radiant and her eyes twinkling as she glanced at me every chance she got.

As the flickering projector sputtered to life, I leaned towards Varun, whispering, "Want to hold hands?" I tried to inject a hint of playfulness into my voice.

He recoiled as if I'd suggested we murder cute puppies. "What? Why?" His voice was a mixture of horror and confusion.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. "Because that's what couples do?" Did he truly not grasp the basics of relationship etiquette?

His curt "No" was accompanied by a swift return of attention to the screen, leaving me feeling oddly rebuffed. Did he know how many boys would kill to hold my hand? Huffing quietly, I crossed my arms and sank back into my seat. I wondered if he would hold Tabassum's hand to make this relationship look authentic to his mother. She seemed so possessive of Varun. Seriously, she was so annoying. If she kept this up, she would find herself on my most hated list.

The movie started, and oh my goodness, it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen! The hero – I don't even know his name – was doing the most impossible things. He'd punch someone, and they'd go flying across the room like they were made of paper! And the stunts! At one point, he was riding a motorcycle on a tightrope between two skyscrapers. I mean, really? Who would believe that?

I was about to lean over to Varun's mother and make fun of the movie, but I noticed how engrossed she was in the movie. It was endearing how her expressions changed with every scene. When the scene of the bad guy beating up another round of goons appeared on the screen, I watched in amusement as a small smile appeared on Varun's face and nodded approvingly as the hero lectured everyone around him.

Their genuine enjoyment was oddly infectious. As the movie progressed, I found myself swept up in their enthusiasm. The film's silliness became its charm, and by the time the hero inevitably saved the day, I was grinning despite myself.

Emerging from the theater, Varun's face had softened, a ghost of a smile lingering as he turned to his mother. "Did you enjoy it?"

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with delight. "It was wonderful! I can't wait to share it with my colleagues. Dr. Priyanka specifically asked for my review."

Her gaze turned to me, warm and inquiring. "And you, Sanjana? Did you like the movie?"

Still processing the whirlwind of emotions, I managed a bewildered nod. "Yes... I think I did?"

Her smile brightened further, a silent approval of my response.

"I'm hungry. Where are we going for dinner?" I asked. Varun named a restaurant whose name I hadn't heard before, but I shook my head immediately, my mind set on something much better.

"No, let's go to Blue Elephant; they serve the most amazing Thai food there," I insisted, oblivious to their exchange of wary looks.

"Let's just get something simple," Varun said. "Th–"

I brushed off his concern. "Trust me, you'll love it! It's always fun to try new things, right?" I said cheerfully, taking their hesitation as reluctance to explore a different cuisine. "Aunty, once you try their Pad Thai you are always going to go back. My friends and I go there at least once a month."

"If she wants to go then let's go to that restaurant," Aunty acquiesced, her gentle hand enveloping mine.

"But–"

"Why are you so grumpy all the time? I promise it's going to be the yummiest thing you have eaten," I said, already flagging down a taxi for us.

Upon arrival at the restaurant, I proudly ushered Varun and his mother inside. The host's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, Miss Sanjana! Welcome back. Your usual table?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, please. Though just for three today."

I glanced back at them, expecting to see excitement on their faces. Instead, they looked... uncomfortable? Maybe they are just as hungry as me.

Varun glared at me as he settled on the chair opposite mine. Whatever, once he took a bite of the food, he would bite his tongue. I took charge of the menu. "Don't worry, I know exactly what to order. You'll love everything, I promise! Wait, you eat non-veg, right?"

Aunty offered me a hesitant nod. I turned to the waiter and rattled off our order, "We'll start with the som tam, tom yum goong, and satay platter. For mains, we'll have the massaman curry, pad kra pao, and of course, the lobster pad Thai."

As the waiter left us alone, I clapped my hands in childlike excitement. I loved that I was going to introduce them to such good food. "You're in for a real treat!"

As we waited for our food, I chatted happily with Aunty, telling her all about university life and how Varun and I got together. Varun was as usual quiet, but I knew it was because he was mad that I was creating a false story, but it clearly made his mother happy and I liked seeing her smile.

The food arrived, and oh, it was spectacular as always! I dug in enthusiastically, encouraging Varun and Aunty to sample everything. They ate with cautious deliberation, taking small, measured bites.

"Do you like it?" I asked Aunty, my voice brimming with anticipation. Her small smile and nod sent a wave of satisfaction through me.

"I knew it!" I beamed, continuing to eat. The portion sizes were small but everything was so flavorful. When the waiter cleared the table, I asked, "Who is ready for dessert?"

Not waiting for their response – after all, who could refuse dessert? – I ordered with renewed excitement. "We'll have the khao niao mamuang for the table, please. Oh, and some Thai iced tea to go with it!"

As we finished our meal, I couldn't help but notice that Varun and his mom seemed a bit subdued. They must have been tired from all the excitement of the day.

The waiter gave us our bill and I tried to pay, but Aunty shook her head and asked Varun to pay.

When the bill arrived, I reached for it, but Aunty gently shook her head, instructing Varun to handle the payment.

"Are you sure?" I asked as Varun begrudgingly pulled out his wallet.

"It's fine," he replied, his voice strained as he settled the bill

As we stepped out of the restaurant into the cool evening air. Aunty checked the time on her wrist watch. "Look at the time. It's so late. You kids should head back. You have class tomorrow right?"

I turned to Varun expectantly. "Call us a cab," I said to Varun. "Let's drop Aunty off first."

"Oh, there's no need for that, dear. I can walk back to the hospital. It's not far."

But I wouldn't hear of it. "Absolutely not, Aunty! It's late, and you shouldn't be walking alone. Varun, call a cab, please."

Varun's jaw clenched, but he complied, his fingers jabbing at his phone screen with unnecessary force. The cab arrived within minutes, and we piled in, with me sandwiched between Varun and his mother in the backseat. As the taxi wove through the evening traffic, I continued chatting animatedly with Aunty, regaling her with more stories from campus life. Varun remained silent, his anger palpable in the confined space of the cab.

"Oh, and there was this one time in the cafeteria when..." I prattled on, oblivious to the tension radiating from Varun.

Before long, we pulled up outside the hospital. As Aunty prepared to leave, she turned to me with a warm smile. "Sanjana, dear, it's been lovely meeting you. Please, keep visiting when you have time. Varun never brings his friends."

That's because he doesn't have any friends. I thought. However, I didn't say it out loud. Aunty was too sweet and I didn't have the heart to tell her. "Of course, Aunty! I'd love to visit again."

"We'll take the bus back to campus," Varun said as he too began getting out, his voice clipped. "The stop is just around the corner."

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion. "The bus? At this hour? It'll take forever! Let's just keep this taxi and head back. It's much quicker and more comfortable and I have heard some terrible stories about the bus."

Varun's face darkened. "Sanjana, we don't need to—"

"Varun, Sanjana is right. Take the cab. It'll be safer for both of you."

"See, I'm always right," I said before leaning forward to give the driver our campus address. "This is much better. We'll be back in no time!"

After making sure Aunty walked inside the hospital premises, Varun indicated to the driver to start the car. We pulled away from the curb, I settled back into my seat, feeling quite pleased with myself for making such sensible arrangements. I glanced at Varun, expecting him to be grateful for my quick thinking, but was met with a stony glare. "Am I the best fake girlfriend or what? If it were on you, your mother would have 100% figured out that you aren't in a real relationship. I managed everything on your behalf. Don't worry about thanking me, I did it for Aunty. She is so sweet. I'm sure she likes me. Like a lot."

He remained silent, his jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear his teeth grinding. So I took it as a chance to continue speaking, "It's all thanks to me that we're almost back at campus already. Can you imagine if we'd taken the bus like you suggested? You'd probably still be waiting at the stop!It's all thanks to me that we're almost back at campus already. Can you imagine if we'd taken the bus like you suggested? You'd probably still be waiting at the stop! For someone who claims to be so smart, you can be serious so silly. Taxi is the way to go. In fact, UberX. It's so convenient. I can't wait till this city also gets it. Why would you even consider waiting for the bus?"
That's when it happened. Varun's face, which had been a mask of forced politeness all evening, suddenly contorted with unbridled rage. "Because I'm poor!" he exploded, his voice thundering through the cab loud enough for the driver to give us a startled look. "Is that what you wanted me to spell out for you? Then let me do it: I'm. Poor."

I leaned away from him. My stomach clenched. Not out of fear. No, it was a different feeling that I couldn't place. "W-what?"

"That 'little restaurant' I suggested?" Varun snarled, his words dripping with venom and frustration. "That's what I can afford. That bus you're so dismissive of? That's how us poor people get around. And that fancy restaurant you took us to? Do you know how much dent that has put on our bank balance?"

I stared at him, unable to find the right words to argue my case. "But... but the food was so good. And your mom seemed to enjoy it..."

"Because she is a naive fool," he snapped, his voice rising with each word. "She was so desperate to be liked by you that she did everything you said. She was terrified that she would accidentally offend you and you would break up with me." Scoffing, he shook his head, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and pain. "Do you know how long it took us to save the amount of money you have had us blow through in a single night? Here I was, scrimping and saving for her surgery, and my silly mother used it all to impress you."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. "I... I ..."

"You don't think, do you?" he asked, his voice quieter now but still intense. "You're so wrapped up in your own bubble that you don't even see what's right in front of you. Did you not notice our discomfort? Or did you think it would be fun to toy with our plight? I keep mistaking you for a decent human being." He tapped the driver on his shoulder. "Could you please stop the car here? I'll walk the rest of the way."

Tears welled up in my eyes. He was really misunderstanding me. "I didn't realize that..."

"That's the problem," Varun cut me off, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You live in this fantasy world where everyone can afford five-star restaurants and taxi rides, where the biggest worry is whether to have dessert or not. But that's not reality for most of us. Next time you're around someone who isn't from your privileged circle, try to be more mindful of their financial situation." With that, he wrenched open the taxi door and slammed it shut with such force that the entire car shook, leaving me a tearful mess in the backseat.