Disguised Darling|✓

Episode 31

Mishti ignores the way Samrat gives her a bright smile when she serves him breakfast, the woman who had been staying here yesterday out of the house already, not saying a word of gratitude to her ex-husband. Samrat too doesn’t bother doing any of that in context to her, but he pays attention to Mishti and the way she continuously tosses it away, retracting her hand when it accidentally touches his while giving him a glass of water or the way his tie seems crooked even today, but she doesn’t step forward to fix it.

Mishti ignores the way his face falls visibly when he tells her that today's breakfast was done exceptionally well and she doesn’t reply, and even more when she doesn’t whine at the complex dish that he tells her to prepare for the lunch. 

Yes, Mishti is avoiding him but she has a million reasons for doing that, a hundred questions swimming in her head and yesterday’s events hurting her heart: Samrat’s words, his story, still echoing through her ears.

“Tell me,” Mishti says, trying to bring as much stability in her voice as she can, being confident for both of them. 

Samrat shakes his head, a self-deprecating smile taking its place on his lips. “I don’t think you’re interested in listening to my sad story, Mishti.” He says and Mishti inhales in a patient breath. 

“If that’s the case then can you tell me what I want for my birthday?”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, I thought since you know me and my interests so well, you’d be able to talk about my rest of the desires and wishes. No?” Mishti feigns innocence and Samrat mums up that, shaking his head. 

“You’re from a different species, I swear.” He mumbles with a humorous huff.

“I’ve heard that before. But now can I hear what I really want to hear?” she asks, a gentleness seeping in her voice that makes Samrat look up, nodding as he gazes right into her eyes.

He heaves out a long sigh. “My mother…. she’s always been a bit materialistic. She used to encourage me to go and earn money, to do my job so efficiently that no one could reach that pedestal ever. I was in the US those days.” Samrat says, a far-off look on his face. “I knew my father’s health wasn’t in the best state but neither did I know that it was in its worst, he didn’t tell me, neither did my mother. I only realised this when he stopped visiting the orphanages…” Samrat informs and Mishti nods, fully remembering those unfortunate days when the lack of Daya sir's visit turned the orphanage into what it is today; a factory of criminals.

“…. but I trusted my mother. When she told me to go and leave my father under her care, I trusted that she wouldn't let anything happen to him. I too was accumulating money for my father, after all, to pay off whatever he had done for me till now. I used to ask her every day about my father's health and every day she used to answer me with the same words, ‘Everything is fine here, you focus on your work.’ 

“But that day.... that day she lied. Everything was not fine. My father was struggling for his life in the hospital, and I was holding meetings. The minute my meeting ended, my phone rang and then came my mother's sobbing voice telling me that my father was no more. My father.... whom I loved more than anyone in my life was no more; he went away without me. I – I couldn't even see him one last time, couldn't hug him, couldn't talk to him. Everything was not fine. I detested my mother that day. She could’ve told me sooner, could’ve not lied to me and maybe there wasn’t much that I could have done, maybe I couldn’t have done anything, but I could have at least stayed next to my father on his last day.

“My mother then apologized to me, told me whatever she did was for my good, and I swallowed down whatever I wanted to say to her, to blame her. And then – then she started maintaining her distance, I liked that. It gave me peace. I – I couldn't love her ever again.