Aparna Sawant, a woman who prioritizes her independence and fulfilling career, has never subscribed to the idea of happily ever after. Marriage, for her, is a practical decision.
Varad Oberoi, a successful businessman hardened by past experiences...
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A P A R N A
The venom in her voice was unmistakable. "You?!" Vatsala Sawant, a woman I barely recognized as my mother, stood before me, her face contorted in fury. "What are you doing here?"
"Greetings to you as well, Mother," I replied, my voice betraying none of the turmoil within. Mr. Oberoi and Antara, made no attempt to hide their astonishment at the revelation that had just exploded between us.
Aai's face morphed from confusion to a rage that flickered like a dying flame. "You're here to see if she's dead, aren't you? After all, you're the one who—" she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "who killed her."
My brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Killed who?"
"Your sister! You murderer! You took your own sister's life!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with emotion. I pivoted towards my father, only to find a mirrored image of his wife's fury reflected in his gaze.
"What in the heavens are you babbling about? And what does Shri have to do with me being here?" I began, my voice rising in frustration. But then, a horrifying realization dawned on me. "Oh god, no! Is that Shri?" I rasped, gesturing towards the door of the ICU ward.
"You tell us,"Aai spat, her accusatory finger jabbing at my chest. "Weren't you the one who sent goons to silence her?"
To say I was livid would be a colossal understatement. What kind of a monster did they think I was? "What are you spewing, Aai? My fiancé is here!" I declared.
She scoffed, her disbelief evident. How could she not? I had never confided in them about my engagement. There had been no point. They had cast me out seven years ago, severing all ties.
"We're not fools, Aparna," my mother countered. "As far as we know, you're still single. Spare us your fabricated stories."
"Maybe you would have known if you'd cared enough to ask," I retorted, my voice laced with bitterness. "Weren't you the ones who disowned me? Besides, my sister is married with a child, so it's not like I'm the only one harboring secrets."
A tense silence descended upon us. I had never spoken to them like this before, but their accusations had ignited a dormant fire within me.
Emboldened by a newfound defiance, I turned towards Mr. Oberoi. "Speaking of secrets, Namaste, Jiju," I said, offering him a sardonic smile. "I would have said that earlier if I'd known about your existence."
His scowl remained firmly etched on his face. If there was a competition for the most perpetually scowling individual, he'd undoubtedly win. He probably even had his own Wikipedia page dedicated to his impressive frowning skills. Thinking my brother-in-law was handsome wasn't a crime, was it?
Well, no matter. It wasn't like our paths would ever cross again.
"Do you even have the faintest clue who you're addressing—" my father boomed, his voice breaking the suffocating silence. But before he could finish, a doctor emerged from Mohit's ward, his face grim.
"Family of Mohit Shah?" he inquired. I surged forward, a surge of dread washing over me as I met his gaze. The doctor's next words confirmed my worst fears.
"I'm deeply sorry to inform you that Mr. Shah's heart has stopped. He's passed away."
A single tear escaped my eye, a solitary droplet amidst the storm raging within me. I had braced myself for this news since the previous night, so it wasn't entirely unexpected. Grief settled upon me, a heavy weight in my chest, but it wasn't a wailing, inconsolable kind of grief.
"Can someone please accompany me to complete the formalities?" the doctor continued.
Antara volunteered, but I quickly interjected. Mohit was family to me in a way my own family never had been. Besides, I needed to get away from my parents' poisonous accusations.
Since Mohit had grown up in an orphanage, there was no family to organize a funeral. I resolved to contact the authorization committee to inquire about organ donation.
With a heavy heart, I left the sterile confines of the hospital and rejoined Antara in the corridor.
"Your sister is conscious," Antara informed me as we settled onto her scooter. "She's requested to see her husband. "The doctors say she could lose consciousness again any moment."
Another tear escaped my eye. I clutched my necklace, seeking comfort in the familiar touch. Memories flooded my mind: snippets of conversations with Mohit, playful moments from my childhood with my sister. We weren't especially close, but we shared a bond.
Amongst all these thoughts, a confusing yet persistent image flickered in my mind - a pair of gray eyes. I couldn't place whose they were, Mr. Oberoi's or his son's.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed when we arrived at our apartment building. Rushing inside, I made a beeline for the bathroom and turned on the hot shower. The cascading water calmed my jittery nerves. Exhaustion finally hit me, and I let the tears flow freely.
The accident, Mohit's memories, my grief, my family situation - everything felt overwhelming.
Emerging from the shower, I wrapped myself in a large t-shirt and shorts and collapsed onto the bed. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, my phone rang. It was Nadia.
Nadia Qureshi was another best friend of mine. Though I hadn't known her as long as I knew Antara, we had managed to become just as close. Plus, we got jobs in the same office so it was a win-win for our friendship.
I answered the call, bracing myself for her usual bluntness.
"Thank me later," she said curtly.
Confusion clouded my mind. "Huh?"
"About work, you bitch," she clarified. "I told Gabbar you had malaria."
Gabbar, or Mrs. Gabriel was the head of my department and a pain in my ass all in one.
Relief washed over me, knowing that my job was safe. "Where are you anyway?"
The weight of the day returned with Nadia's question. "Mohit was in an accident. He died," I said quietly.
"Did I call Antara? Ugh, whatever. Look, I know you don't like that bitch, baby but you shouldn't be wishing him dead," Nadia said with a dramatic sigh.
I groaned. "Nadia, it's Aparna. And Mohit is really dead. I was at the hospital all night."
A beat of silence followed. "You're serious," Nadia finally said.
"Yes."
"Okay, I'll handle work. You... do whatever you need to do," she replied, her voice thick with unasked questions.
But I was glad she chose not to ask them because I was not prepared for any type of confrontation right now.
Hanging up, I tossed my phone on the nightstand and succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep.
