Disguised Darling|✓

Episode 32

“I’ll not have breakfast today.”

“Ok.” 

“Neither lunch.” Mishti looks up at Samrat and nods, suspicious. “As you wish.”

“Nor dinner.” Mishti frowns at that, a retort ready to tumble out of her mouth when she realizes who she is standing before and talking to. She should be avoiding coming in front of this man right now and not toast the breads that he doesn’t even want to eat. 

“Ok.” She sighs, switching off the toaster, missing the petulant tone in her employer’s voice or the way his expressions go from hurt to angered. 

“Is it because of what I said that day?” Samrat suddenly asks, halting from where he had been cuffing up his sleeves while talking to her. 

“Huh?” Mishti remains clueless. 

“Is it because I told you about my wife, my parents? Is it that why you’re avoiding me?” 

What?

“What?”

“I cried in front of you, you must think I’m not man enough –”

“What? Samrat, you’re getting it all wrong!” Mishti protests but he doesn’t listen, instead shakes his head, jaw clenching. 

“No, I am not. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Samrat –”

“I should’ve kept it to myself.” Samrat keeps on mumbling, his forehead gaining a frown, while his words only do to raise Mishti’s temper.

“Can you stop it, already?”

“I shouldn’t have –”

“Yes.” Mishti snaps, putting the knife down harshly on the kitchen slab, and turning to face the man fully, her nose flaring angrily. “It’s your mistake, you shouldn’t have told me anything. Should have just gotten drunk all over again like all those yea –” she stops immediately in her words, quickly realizing the mistake she was just going to make.

“Drunk?” Samrat questions confused, and then flicks his chin up, his gaze hardening before falling on her. “I’ll have you know that I don’t drink. I have never gotten drunk in my life, apart from that one day….” He mumbles the last few words, thankfully not being able to interpret her words clearly but still reaching to the point that she had been referring to. “Had it not been for that bottle of whiskey, I would have remembered her clearly.” He murmurs, gaze spanning in and out of a trance that Mishti is fully aware of. 

And suddenly as if the most unattainable idea has struck his mind, Samrat looks at her with a distraught, accusatory gaze.

“She would have understood it.” He gulps, that childlike vulnerability evident in his eyes as he talks about her in front of her. “Had it been her in your place, she would have understood me,” Samrat says in his mouth, but Mishti hears it crystal clear and even if she knows that it is her past self that he is talking about, it makes jealousy flare in her chest.

“Then you should have… should have told the person you’re talking about instead of me. At least you wouldn’t have regretted it so much.” She says, chest heaving.

But Samrat too doesn’t just listen patiently and inhales a long breath, his lower lip quivering in frustration. 

“Of course, I regret it. Since the moment I have told you about that you have been avoiding me. I told you all that because I thought you might understand. You know the importance of a family, of parents.” He says, his voice ranging from high to low. “Do you think I go on sharing my past with every second person? I don’t think I would’ve even shared it willingly with Vivek had he not known all of it already. But with you, I…. I trusted you, Mishti.” Samrat says the finger pointed at her going down with a defeated flick of his hand.