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 wind whipped around us, his voice barely a shred against the roar. "Aparna, I love you. I know you love me too. Why can't you just say it? We could be like...like the stories you cherish." His voice hitched, raw with something close to despair.
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the world around him. "No! I never did, and I never will. You're..." The word stuck, a horrible, twisted truth. "You're..."
"A monster?" he finished, a humorless smile twisting his features. "Yes, I am. I do terrible things. But for you, Aparna, I would do anything, even this." He gestured towards the edge of the terrace, the city lights a dizzying sprawl below.
Panic clawed at my throat. "No, please! Don't even think about it. There's another way. We can fix this, together." My voice broke on a sob. "Please, just come back from there."
"You're the one who drove me away, love," he said, his smile turning sadder, more chilling. "You're the one who shattered everything." He took a step closer to the precipice, his eyes fixed on some unseen horizon.
"No! This is crazy! Don't do this!" My voice was a hoarse shriek against the wind.
A single, choked laugh escaped him. "Perhaps it is. But at least my love will be known." And then, with that same sad, twisted smile, he stepped off the edge.
"NO!" I lunged forward, the dream shifting into a blurry, panicked scramble. But before I could reach him, I woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, some kind of weight holding me down.
It had been a long time since this particular nightmare plagued me. Therapy had helped, allowing me to focus on my well-being. Then why? Why did this dream return now?
"Aparna? Breathe with me, please." I realized the weight was Varad. Megh, with his endearing habit of sleep acrobatics, was sprawled across my legs.
He held out a glass of water, his eyes filled with concern.
"Are you alright? Can you catch your breath?"
The dream's intensity lingered, a cold dread settling in my stomach. My breath hitched, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the vivid images.
"It's okay," Varad murmured, his voice a soothing balm. He gently placed the glass on the nightstand and wrapped an arm around me. I don't think he meant to do that and I didn't have the energy to push him away. Megh, thankfully oblivious, mumbled something incoherent and shifted in his sleep.
A shaky exhale escaped my lips. The dream felt so real, a twisted reflection of the depths of my past that I had tried so hard to suppress.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Varad asked softly.
The question hung in the air, a silent invitation. Looking at him, at the concern etched on his face, a part of me yearned to unload the burden in my heart. But the words remained trapped, a tangled mess of guilt, panic, and a silent plea for something more.
Taking another deep breath, I forced a watery smile, silently telling him to remove his arms from around me. "I just had a bad dream, that's all. Thank you for the water."
I was uncomfortable with the situation we were in. Not because I didn't trust him but because I had no faith in myself. I was vulnerable and vulnerable people are prone to make bad choices. I knew it firsthand.
Disappointment flickered in his eyes for a fleeting moment, not because I wouldn't let him touch me but because I didn't tell him what was on my mind. He removed his hands and gave me some space. "Anytime."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Even Megh's soft snores couldn't penetrate the suffocating weight in my chest.
"I can't sleep." I admitted after tossing and turning for a few minutes. "Can you turn on the night light?"
I heard him hum and a few seconds later, a soft yellow light spread around us. I quickly mumbled my gratitude while patting Megh on the back. He had moved a little and though he was quite a heavy sleeper, I didn't want to take any chances.
"Can I ask you something?" I questioned after another pregnant pause, feeling his stare on me. "Did you love Shriparna?"
His answer was a curt, "No." But a flicker of something in his eyes, a vulnerability I hadn't seen before, snagged my attention.
"I only ever loved one person," he continued, his voice low. "Unfortunately, it wasn't her."
Now that piqued my interest. Varad Oberoi in love must have been a sight to behold.
"What was her name?" I asked, suddenly forgetting all about my nightmare.
He just smiled the tiniest smile and continued staring at the ceiling.
"When was this?" I was so curious to know who the mystery lady was that every remaining ounce of sleep left my body.
"I was in college and she had just completed high school." He still sounded so smitten by her that it almost made me jealous. Even though I had no reason to be. "She was the most beautiful girl I had ever known. She used to laugh at every stupid thing I did like I was the funniest person she knew. She was very quiet with everyone else but when she was with me, she was the loudest person in the room- careless and so full of energy."
"She sounds like an amazing person." I mumbled. She really must have been so amazing if THE Varad Oberoi was so in love with her.
Don't get me wrong. I might not believe in love but I know that it is beautiful. I have seen mamu bring a gajra for mami every year for their anniversary and I have helped her prepare the same rabdi every year that was served as dessert on their actual wedding.
I might hate my parents with all my might but I can't deny the fact that my father shut down his whole company for a month when my mother was undergoing an open heart surgery so that he could stay by her side.
The child in me craved that fierce devotion. The adult in me knew better.
"She wouldn't have liked you," his voice cut through my musings, blunt and unexpected.
"Probably not," I choked out, the bitterness sharp on my tongue. "I married the man she loved."
"Not because of that." He chuckled, a hollow sound devoid of humor. "She'd have found you... too guarded. Too closed off."
A truth bomb, exploding in the tense quiet. "I am," I admitted, the words heavy. "Can I ask... what happened to her?"
He cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the silence. "She... she left."
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before I finally whispered, "We should sleep."
