Who Are You?

Another untold Goodbye?

The room wasn't as grand as the auditorium, where the conference was to be set-but it wasn't any less expensive. The white marbled pillars gild regularly with thin golden flecks. 

The sofa was covered in a rich velvet case that seemed to drip like blood from the mattresses and an elaborate diamond chandelier cascaded down from the ceiling, glowing brightly through the lucid diamonds.

And for a moment Payal  reminisced about the Cruise. She remembered it suddenly-the shootings, the dread, the thought of almost getting killed, the lies, Ahaan.  Fear churned in her stomach. She almost died and yet she longed for the thrill of it. 

"I don't want to fight for your attention"

A voice broke through her thoughts.

 She blinked away and instead looked at Vihaan, who lounged on the opposite side of the seating.

She smiled through the anxiety in her stomach. 

"You won't have to"

Clearing her throat, her hand stretched for the water bottle chugging a good amount down her sore throat . She then reluctantly took her notepad mic and recorder-setting it up.

"You have a terribly good amount of patience"

She forced a laugh by plugging in the wires.

He nodded "And you're still as readable as I remembered"

Her fingers halt,eyes lifting up, the blood under her skin turning icy cold.

as I remembered?

He smiled back at her and then turning to the stand bys in the room "Please leave us"

Without a word the tall men got in line and marched out of the room. Leaving the tension thicker than it was before.

She paused considering what to make of the situation.

Vihaan sunk deeper into the red cushions, anchoring a leg on one and wrapping his hand around it.

He then holds out his hand as though offering something. "Go on-Ask your questions"

She flicked at the edge of the paper tentatively, before flipping to the page of the questions and letting out a deep sigh

"Okay first question"  She started reading the words "What is your contribution to the economy of-"

But suddenly his palm lunged at the notebook, grabbing it from her before she finished reading the question.

"Not this" he snapped-tossing it on the glass coffee table at the side.

"The questions you have-about everything"

"Everything?" she almost laughed, and then pointed to herself "The only questions this reporter has are the ones in the book."

"Then ask me questions Payal Mehra would have-the ones she would have five years ago-if I had still been there"

That had wiped the smile on her face and suddenly her throat was parched again. 

She said nothing.

He seemed to study her face waiting for the questions to pour from her mouth, but when she didn't he spoke again.

"You were bustling with them the last time I remembered-almost got yourself killed for answers. You were asking-practically begging me for answers-and you deserve to get them. So here I am now-I'll answer truthfully to whatever you ask."