Once Upon a Time in London

Chapter 45

I cried myself to sleep that night.

I had betrayed Zain. There was a part of me that knew this fact, whether I now choose to acknowledge this or lock it away somewhere, the fact remains that if Rahul had kissed me under that gazebo, I'm not sure I would have backed away.

And that alone is betrayal enough.

After a restless night, I get ready at 6 am the next day and send a quick email to the orientation leader that I would not be able to come in this morning to meet up with everyone one last time before our flights. I put the blame on some family emergency to get out of it. I do not want to see Rahul right now, I do not want him to find me. I feel so small right now, a shell of a person I was, I had done something terrible. I am an engaged woman, I reminded myself. What happened yesterday, should not have happened. If Rahul won't let me forget, I'll simply move far away enough that time and distance does the forgetting for me.

So, at 9am while everyone was probably meeting each other one last time before going their separate ways, I was on a flight back to London, away from New York, and away from Rahul.

— — — — — —

Zain pressed a kiss against my forehead as he swung me around in his arms, "You're back" he grinned.

I think I smiled, my face hurt as did my heart.

I don't remember him putting me down or even much of what I said to ma and Pammi aunty, I only remember the cold darkness of my room as I shut the door behind me and sat down on the floor, my heart squeezing inside my chest, a sudden wave of sickness coming over me.

And after a week of avoiding Zain's eyes and smiling half-heartedly to him pecking my cheeks, my shoulders or my forehead, I told him the words that had been weighing down on my heart.

"I saw Rahul."

Zain had been in the gallery, it was located at the back of the house, the glass room looked out over a secluded part of the backyard that only the family members had access to, a little pond filled with fish I had once mentioned I liked was tucked away in a corner of this part of the backyard, a part Zain said was mine, all mine.

I walked into the gallery and the smell of dried lavender that Zain now hid in various parts of the house enveloped me immediately. It was a habit he had picked up ever since we moved back from the penthouse in Boston.

Zain sat with his back to me, painting on a canvas, sitting on a little wooden stool I had thrifted, the easel placed just before the glass overlooking the gardens.

"I didn't realise they'd gotten that long already" I said, pointing to the ivy vines that now fell on the domed glass, he finally turned to look at me, a smudge of red paint on his cheek.

My lips parted slightly before I smiled habitually. I pushed off the dresser I was leaning against as I walked up to him.

He smiled at me warmly, "Yeah, I should've trimmed them huh?" he turned to look towards the vines as he ran his fingers through his hair sheepishly.

"I think they look pretty" I smiled, reaching a hand out to rub away the paint on his cheek.

He seemed taken aback, his face felt warm, my hand lingered on his cheek even after the red had transferred to my fingers. Looking at him then, I thought of the life I had with him, in this home that he called his that was also now mine in some way, it was a happy life. He would be a good husband, he loved me. The way he looked at me even at that moment was enough proof. I smiled again before slowly pulling my hand back, he lifted his hand to mine, holding mine in his, keeping my hand on his face for a little longer. His eyes felt soft, a gentleness that reflected in his actions.