Us Against the World

7. Meeting Spencer

EDITED

As much as I'd like to admit that I put on a brave face and spent the day wandering shops and other corners of the tiny city we lived in, I'm too much of a coward to do so. I have an ego, though, which is big enough to prevent me from going back upstairs with my tail between my legs. Until Chandini comes home, I spend my day at the coffee shop next door to our apartment, sipping hot chocolate and splurging on sweets while I scroll through my emails and messages.

I'm not going to listen to Riya and play the twentieth-century housewife that she wants me to be. Her concerns are valid, but she can't keep me in bubble wrap for the rest of my life, quoting Chandini from earlier. Besides, when she's gone, then what? I can't sit on the floor and cry like a baby. I'd have Chandini and Mum to worry about.

Spending the day outside is relaxing, and I don't think about my argument with Riya even though it prods the back of my head, like an annoying child that just won't stop ringing the doorbell. Being an introvert has its perks, and one of them is not having to talk to anyone because you don't know them! It's satisfying enough to nod in their direction and continue with your business.

As I waste my phone battery (seriously, why didn't I bring my laptop?) I see a new message pop up on my lengthy notification page. Opening my email, I see that I've gotten a message from my cardiologist, requesting for an MRI to be done to check my heart. I grimace seeing the urgency of her note.

"A part of me wants to pretend I never saw this..." I mumble, giving myself a small chuckle. I can't ignore it, though, as Dr. Moon has been badgering me about this procedure for weeks, if not, months. Riya has too, and my Mum, when I was much younger. Should Riya find out that I've been ignoring my impending funeral, she'd murder me on the spot.

Not that she has to find out right now...the mischievous part of my brain plots maniacally. I ignore it, as I know that Riya has a right to know, especially since she'll be the one driving me to my appointments. I don't think I'll tell her right away, though, just because I want to see how our argument ends before piling another misery onto her shoulders.

"Miss. Rajput?" A soft, tentative voice brings me out of my thoughts. Glancing up, I catch sight of the tall, gentle-looking Marcello, who smiles down at me with a cup of coffee in his large hands. The dark-haired Italian gestures with his chin towards the seat opposite me. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," the polite side of me spits out before I can stop it. I don't have anything against Marcello, but Chandini will be arriving home soon with that boyfriend of hers and I don't want to seem like a hypocrite...or even worse, give her something to gossip about.

"Thank you." He sits and sips his drink. "Enjoying the weather?"

"I suppose so," I say, forcing myself to turn my phone off and put it face-down on the table. "What are you doing here, Marcello? Don't you have work?"

"I have a half-day today," he explains. "I had to take my daughter to the doctor. She's having her tonsils removed."

"Today?" I'm surprised that I'm more concerned that Marcello's daughter is having surgery rather than the fact that he even has a daughter!

"No, in a few weeks," he laughs. "It was a routine checkup. My wife was unable to take her, as she had to bring our son to a party at his school."

"How many kids do you have?" I ask.

"Two," he says. He studies my face, and his smile becomes a smirk. "What? Do I look too young to have children?"

My cheeks burn with humiliation. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little," Marcello laughs. "You're not very ambiguous, Miss. Rajput. I can read your face quite clearly." He pauses. "Perhaps that's why he taught me that..."