Will You Be Mine Again?

Prologue

"Morning, Miss. Rishika," the tall guy in his thirties greeted as I entered in Cafe Coffee Day.

"Hello, Mr. Singh. How are you?" I smiled as I sat on the chair, facing him.

"I'm good, thanks." He said and shifted the menu card to my side. "Order anything you want."

"I'll have a cafe latte, thank you." I said politely, adjusting my strapped leather handbag.

"I've been getting reports of your work since past two months. You've given a very good service to our company, madam. The boss is pretty happy with you." He rubbed his hands together.

"I'm glad he liked my work." I smiled as he ordered a cafe latte for me and a black coffee for him. "You said you wanted to discuss some project with me."

"Yes." He chuckled. "It's the new project involving the new rock band, Shooting Stars. I thought you might be interested in music stars of today's generation."

"Absolutely." I laughed. "I would love to work on it. How many interviews do you want?"

"You'll have to start from the whole band interview and then slowly with the members separately. That would be good for their advertisement and fame."

"Alright. Done then." The waiter brought our coffees.

"Glad to hear it." He smiled as he took a sip. "Start working as soon as you can."

"I will." I nodded and held my cup. "So, when is your flight to Mumbai?"

"It's tomorrow at 8am. I've a hotel room booked in Lé Meridian." He said.

The head of celeb department of the company usually has all the luxury facilities, no less than the CEO.

We finished our coffees and were about to leave when he apologized for not able to visit my place this time.

I unzipped my sidebag and took my tiny notepad. I tore a page out of it and wrote down my address and handed it to him.

"Here." I said. "If you need anything, this is the place for you."

"Thank you, Miss. Rishika." He placed the page in his jeans pocket.

As I was keeping everything in the bag, Mr. Singh leaned down and picked something up.

"Well, miss..." He said. "I think this is yours."

I looked at his hand. He was holding a photograph of a couple in their teens. A tall and chubby girl with jet black straight hair, wearing a blue saree was wrapped in the arms of a muscular guy who was much taller than her. He was wearing a white shirt with navy blue waistcoat and an orange turban. The photo was clicked in some college program.

"Your siblings?" He asked, still holding the photo.

"Uh..." I stared at it blankly. All of a sudden, old memories came rushing towards me. I wanted to escape those thoughts.

"Huh?" He frowned, looking at me. "Why are you shivering?"

"Ah, am I?" I cleared my throat. "Well, it's nothing. Can I have it back?"

"Sure. It's your property, dear. And you're asking me whether you can have it?" He laughed loudly.

I almost snatched the photo from him and put it in the bag. But I regretted doing it.

"Sorry." I bit my lip. "Bad memories."

"You okay?" Mr. Singh asked in a worried tone.

"Yes, I'm fine." I tried to smile. "We should leave, I guess."

As we walked outside in the parking lot, I unlocked my black sedan and climbed in, waving him goodbye.

"Goodnight, Miss. Rishika. Good luck." He smiled.

"Goodnight, Mr. Singh." I hit the pedal.

*************************************"**"**

The doorbell rang all of a sudden with it's loud noise.

I jumped out of bed, and went to open the door with trembling legs. I checked the wall clock in the hall. It was 1 am. Who that might be? I wondered.

"Morning." Mr. Singh grinned, standing outside my apartment.

"Oh my gosh! Mr. Singh? Am I seeing the right person?" I rubbed my eyes.

"Yes, you're." He chuckled. "May I come in?"

"Oh, yes, sure." I stepped aside to gove him space.

"How did you come here at this time of the night?" I asked, surprised by his presence.

"You're already introduced to the journalists and their curiosity, right?" He laughed, sitting comfortably on the sofa as I sat on the couch, facing him.

"I didn't get that." I frowned.

"That photograph in your purse has made me come back to you." He said politely. "There's a story behind it, isn't there? That's why your reactions changed for a minute. You seemed to be out of this world, all scared. What's the big story?"

I couldn't believe what he was asking. He remembered the photo and was not interviewing me on it.

"Tell me, Miss. Rishika. What's the story?"

"Why do you wanna know?" I aked, annoyed.

"It's important. That one photo meant so much to you. I've seen it on your face. Tell me." He curled his fists.

"Okay. But it will take a day if you wanna listen to the whole story."

"I've time." He smiled. "Please tell me."

"That's the photo of me and my college sweetheart, Puneet." My voice quivered when I took his name.

"Puneet?"

"Puneet Dubey from Delhi."

"What happened to him?" He asked. "Did he-"

"Oh, no, no." I understood what he was about to say. "He's not dead. Don't worry. But I don't know where is he at present. Living his life grandly with his wife and children maybe."

"What made you two break up?"

"I'll have to tell it from the beginning then." I said.

"Sure. Begin your story." He smiled, leaning back on the sofa.

"Okay."

If you're reading this, do vote/comment!
I know this is based on Indian culture. Hope you like it!