His Brown Bride

35

Anita's POV







I was sitting in a meeting with Akash and his friends, discussing the menu and staff recruitment.

Earlier, Akash had cancelled his work for the day, which surprised me since he had mentioned something important came up on our way.

I had also been pleading with him to free Rajiv's grandmother, but he said it wasn't happening, at least not today.

Just as we were in the middle of the discussion, my father appeared out of nowhere!

I was terrified; my legs went numb, and my heart raced, especially after he called me a wretched child, which only added to my fear.

But amidst all the chaos, I found the courage to finally express what had been bottled up inside me for so long. I told him exactly what I thought, and it felt soothing.

Of course, if I were alone, I wouldn't have mustered the courage to stand up to him.

He would have killed me without hesitation.

But with Akash and his friends present, I knew he wouldn't dare.

So, I took advantage of the situation and spoke my mind.

Now, I'm running away again, determined to start afresh and make a life for myself.

I want to escape and hide until I've achieved success, then return to rescue my mother and siblings.

As I ran, I heard Akash's voice behind me. "Anita, for God's sake, stop!"

He's been chasing after me, despite my insistence that it's useless.

But then I heard a scream. "Ahhh!"

His scream made me stop in my tracks, and I spun around immediately.

To my surprise, he was smiling. "I knew you cared about me," he said, his eyes gleaming with happiness. "You stopped to make sure I was okay."

"Of course, I care about you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "You're still my best friend."

He reached me, his hands enveloping mine in a gentle grasp.

"Then listen to me and ignore everything that man said," he spoke, his eyes locked on mine. "It doesn't matter. You know you haven't compromised your values or integrity. Your hard work and recipes are what they're going to use to make the restaurant successful. It is not a shortcut. They're paying you for your recipes."

"It is. It is a shortcut." I started to protest, but he cut me off.

"Who told you it's a shortcut? I'm telling you, it's your recipes that are valuable. The payment is for your hard work and dedication."

"Fine, let's say it is," I whispered, my voice barely audible again. "But I don't want it like that anymore. I don't want to sell the recipes anymore. I want to keep them to myself." I paused, my eyes pleading with him. "Please, just let me be. I'll go somewhere else!"

"Where will you go?" he asked, his voice turning to concern. "Mumbai is the city of dreams. Okay, I accept. Don't sell the recipes anymore, but don't leave me either."

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but still spoke. "What does it matter to you if I leave? I'll never forget you, I promise. I'll return and repay every debt I owe you - the food, the house..."

His eyes latched into mine, his gaze becoming intense. "Perché non vedi che non è un debito?" he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Perché non vedi l'amore che ho per te nei miei occhi? Non posso vivere un giorno senza di te, Anita."

I stared blankly at him, my mind struggling to comprehend his words.

However, the sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes, and my heart skipped a beat.

Translation:
"Why don't you see that it's not a debt? Why don't you see the love I have for you in my eyes? I can't live a day without you, Anita."

"What is that?" I asked, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Come work at my company, then. That's not a shortcut, it's a job," he replied.

"I asked about the meaning of what you said earlier," I clarified.

"I said come work at my company," he repeated.

"Why now? I don't want it anymore. That's also a shortcut. I'll return to the streets and hopefully find a job on my own this time, without help." I said, and started to walk away.

He whispered under his breath, his words barely audible, "Perché adesso, ovviamente... mi sono innamorato di te a prima vista e non volevo che nessuno ti caricasse di lavoro... E non potevo nemmeno lasciarti lavorare con me nel mio ufficio perché ero sicuro che non ti avrei mai prestato attenzione... Ma se vado avanti e ti dico tutto questo, sono sicuro che mi lascerai perché è troppo presto... Ancora non mi ami né penso che tu abbia piena fiducia in me."

Translation:
"Why now, of course... I fell in love with you at first sight and didn't want anyone to burden you with work... And I also couldn't let you work with me in my office because I was certain I wouldn't pay attention... But if I tell you all this, I'm certain you'll leave me because it's too early... You still don't love me, nor do I think you fully trust me."

I turned back to him, my glare intensifying. "Are you abusing me?" I asked, my voice firm.

He laughed and shook his head. "Never."

I stared at him. "So, what did you say?"

"I said, Let's go. We'll live on the streets together. After all, what's the use of a best friend if they're not with you through thick and thin? We'll look for work together and build our lives together."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're self-employed. You own a big house. Why would you want to live with me?"

He smiled. "Friends stay with each other through every situation. Moreover, I was self-employed only until a few seconds ago. Now, I'm jobless and homeless too, unless you agree to return home. Or else, let's be homeless together."

"Do you think living on the streets is easy? Do you know how cold it gets at night?" I asked, trying to reason with him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone," he replied, shrugging. "If we have to go through that before we get a home, I'm ready."

I forced a chuckle, trying to hide my concern. "I won't try to convince you to return to your home. You'll eventually go back when you experience it yourself—the cold nights, going to sleep without dinner, or your daily night coffee."

He shrugged and said, "Finché sarò con te, non mi dispiacerà adattarmi a qualsiasi stile di vita." (As long as I'm with you, I won't mind adjusting to any lifestyle.)

I glared at him, frustrated. "Akash, I'm impressed that you speak multiple languages, but can you please stick to Hindi? This constant switching is giving me a headache. If you continue using that weird tone, I'd prefer you leave me alone, honestly."

"Headache?" he asked, suddenly appearing in front of me with a concerned look on his face. "Should we go to the hospital?"

I laughed briefly. "Hospital? Just for a headache?"

"Look, you haven't started taking your medications yet either. I've asked the guard to collect it when it arrives. It's important for your health too. I'll ask him to bring the medication for your headache also."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You'll be fine soon," he said with a gentle voice. "Let's go home and get you some proper rest in the bedroom. It's getting cold seriously, and I don't want you to catch a cold."

As he spoke, he removed his coat and draped it over my shoulders.

I froze slightly at the unexpected gesture, but he just smiled.

When he tried to take my hand, I pulled it back, and instead, I removed his coat and offered it back to him.

"You'll need this more than me," I said. "I'm used to the cold, but you're not."

When he didn't take the coat back, I placed it on his shoulder and continued walking, arriving under the bridge.

The darkness had already fallen, and others had settled in for the night, lying down on the cold floor.

I gazed up at the dark sky, which was heavy with clouds. "It seems like it's going to rain," I murmured.

"It is," he replied confidently, his eyes cast downward at the dirty ground.

"Is this where we'll sleep?" he asked.

"Just me," I clarified. "You and I can't sleep in the same place. You still have an option, though. Go home; go to your bedroom with a pool; go to your bed under your warm blanket..."

My words were cut when he closed the distance between us, his eyes burning intensely into mine. "In sickness and health, in wealth and poverty, in better or for worse, I will never let go of your hand," he attested.

My breathing caught in my throat after he drew near, his proximity sending a shiver down my spine.

I took a step back, and I pleaded, "Go home, Akash. Please. Living out here is hard without..."

He cut me off, his voice firm but gentle. "I will find a corner at the end and sleep," he said, his eyes already scanning the area as if searching for a spot to claim.

He walked away from me, his long strides carrying him to the far end of the bridge, where he knelt down and began to clean the ground, his hands sweeping away the sand and debris with a quiet resolution.

I watched him, my heart aching with sadness, gratitude, and frustration.

Why was he doing this?

Why was he insisting on staying with me, on suffering alongside me?

While I gazed at his figure, hunched over in concentration, something inside me shifted.

Maybe it was the way the fading light danced across his features or the quiet strength emanating from him, but whatever, no one can ever have his spot in my heart.


I think Akash is a friend we all would want to have. Someone who would support you at your lowest.

Again, don't forget this book is also available in Scrollstack.

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The next chapter will be when this book crosses 70k reads. I think it is already at 68+.

Bye!