Darkhaast

~ 20 ~

Abhimanyu was willing to bet Mahi hadn't slept a wink since they arrived in Bengaluru. Some moments of shut-eye in the on-call room? Sure. Not proper rest, though.

She'd spent the night scouring through her stuff in the apartment. She was grabbing some photos to make a scrapbook, he presumed. Digging through Anurag's closet to find some of his stuff to back, he wondered. He couldn't say he'd be offended if she showed indifference. Unknowingly, unintentionally, and heinously, he questioned her feelings for Anurag and her grief. But she acted like nothing changed the next day, enthralled by all her duties and kind as ever. Seeing her so full of zest when he was broken irked him.

She knew Abhimanyu would check on her and fret if she fell asleep and fidgeted. Like the train, he might hold her close to steady her anxious heart. Mahi didn't worry about being unfaithful to Anurag because she knew her heart was pakkh. Akhir jo hai bhi nahi, usse befawai kaisi? But the pity in Abhimanyu's eyes since they arrived, the grief he kept searching for in her demeanour, felt uneasy. 'Is it so wrong to not constantly be crying or wishing for death to take over?' She asked herself that first night while dancing to pyar dewana hota hai. What kept her up at night weren't excuses - she came to Bengaluru with more than one goal. But to avoid his gaze, she was more motivated than ever.

In the mornings, she'd be sprawled over her dining table, making notes on her cases back in Udaipur to instruct Faiz.

"Kahan jaa rahe ho tum?" Abhimanyu was rushing out of the apartment in a black polka-dotted button-up and trousers.

"Grocery shopping." He curtly replied. Mahi's eyes squinted.

"Kyun, tum kaunsa yahan settle hone wale ho? Hum kal subha vapas Udaipur jaa rahe hain."

"Haan, par agar ek aur din tumhare instant oatmeal khana para toh,"

"Toh?"

"Toh pata nahi par kuch acha nahi hoga," he stormed out.

"Tumne ab tak khaya ni?" When he returned with a bag of produce and dairy, her apple-cinnamon instant oats were cold, soggy, and untouched. She hadn't looked up from her papers.

"Main abhi reheat kar ke khana kaongi."

"No way," he swiped the bowl and dumped its contents into the sink.

"Abhimanyu! Khana waste kyun kar rahe ho." She swatted his back like he was a pestering mosquito.

"Khana main nahi, tum waste kar rahi ho." He forced her to sit back at the dining table so he could start cooking breakfast. She'd glance at his silhouette every few moments: tall, sturdy, and confident. Since Anurag's passing, no man's taken over that kitchen. At this moment, they seemed so alike.

"Aandhar ya bahar?" He gestured to the balcony with a tray of omelettes and toast.

"Balcony." She led the way.

"Tumne Abhir ko cooking sikhayi, ya tumne usse sekhi?"

"Seeda seeda taarif nahi kar sakti?" She giggled, taking in a huge mouthful of the French omelette topped with chives and cheese.

"Tumhari taarif kar ke tumhare itna bade ego aur bade nahi kar sakti." He huffed. He wanted to put a guard up, a shield in case she suddenly decided to wield anger against him, given his queries. Her friendship didn't waver, though.

"I'm seriously asking though, tell me about Abhir. How he grew up, how he learned to cook and, if you know it, the secret behind his strawberry jelly mousse. It's out of the world."