Delicate - A Rikara Tale (Completed!)

Twelve- Storms in Teacups

A/N: After a long vacation and recovering from the insanity of the previous semester, I am recharged. Here's the latest chapter. It is short, but I am hoping you will like it all the same. Please comment and vote on this and let me know what you think. I might try daily updates for a week.

Saumya Rudra Oberoi was no stranger to drama and tragedy. Ever since she had moved into the Oberoi mansion, something or the other had been blowing the tentative peace in the household to pieces. Whether it was the misunderstandings between Bade Bhaiya and Annika or Badi Ma's violent refusal to accept Anika or Rudra's parents and their unfortunate interactions the outcome was always the same- a deadly silence and then the cycle of viciousness would begin anew – an almost snuffed out candle lighting itself up into a dark flame. It was toxic and stifling, a force that made the large mansion feel like a cramped, overstuffed shoebox, like the one she used to hide under her bed. A battered box full of imagined interviews with famous people that she hoped to meet. Except, the Oberoi mansion was full of unsaid words and conversations that should have taken place. She could not deal with the death-like silence, the perpetual almost mourning, the dysfunction sometimes. Those were the days the wished-for things to have been done differently. But how she knew not. And sometimes, she wondered if it was worth her time, her energy and the last remaining pieces of her sanity to find out.

She was not a resentful person. Not by nature. But some days, she could not help but think the cold, ungrateful, semi-hateful thoughts about where she had wanted to go and where she was now. A part of her knew that Rudra( her husband in name, her husband for the flashing lights, her husband for the conjured smiles and the high society high aspirations) was a victim of the same kind that she was - a victim of fate, of society , of the desire to not let the family that was already at the edge of a cliff fall to the depths of despair, the point of no return. She knew how much her younger self would be disappointed in her for the thoughts she was having for the past few months but even that idea did not stop the invasion of the hateful, hateful feelings that rose up in her insides like bile. How had things turned out this way? Why had she not walked out as soon as she was able?

Once, Saumya had been proud of her heart, her caring, open, jovial nature. She used to find solace in comforting others, unloading them of their burdens. She had been her brother's secret keeper and consoler when he was alive. Those cherished memories were what had made her love her RJ job so much- especially her love angel gig. Now, it weighed her down like the rocks in Virginia Woolf's pockets. What she had loved doing - making people happy- had become a prison and she could not break out. Not without hurting everyone. The thought of hurting the innocent people who were Rudra's family to make him feel sorry repulsed her. Her mother had raised no fool, but a kind person. And so, Saumya endured the play that her marriage was. The hand holding for the cameras and the eyes of strangers, the smiles that were as natural as the lipstick that she put on her lips, the way that Rudra's smile never quite reached his eyes - those things still made her feel like she was stabbed in the gut. Another thing that cut her was the compliments that she had received from co-workers, friends - Congratulations for her perfectly enviable marriage, the expensive jewelry, the exquisite designer clothing (no more jeans for the Oberoi daughter in law) and her handsome husband. But Saumya would give it all up just for a moment of feeling like herself again. Food no longer comforted her. Music made her feelings flare up, it did not have the soothing effect it once had. Saumya now walked in the large Oberoi garden in the morning, hoping that all the tips about meditation and clearing her head would work. It never did stop the ugly thoughts. It never did. Today, she was again trying to desperately clear her head when Bade Baal wale Bhaiya's car pulled up.

To say that Om was nervous would be an understatement. He could feel his hands shaking and hated it. This was not meant to feel so hard, returning home with his wife. It was unfair to Gauri to have to come to a battlefield first before she would undergo all the rituals of being a bahu that she believed in with such devotion. He hated that everyone's first impression of his wife would be an illusion, a necessary misunderstanding that must be maintained so that Swetlana would stay away from the family. Swetlana would harm Gauri if she came to know the truth about her circumstances, especially the fact that Om cared for her. Om would not consider Swetlana beneath the vileness of teaming up with Kali Thakur to seek revenge on him and Gauri. Until Kali Thakur and his accomplices were out of the way and put in jail for their heinous lives it was safer for everyone concerned to be fed a half truth, half lie. If anyone had ever told Om that he would consider lies as a medium for protecting someone, he'd have looked at the person with part laughter and part judgment and remind the person that Omkara Singh Oberoi detested the very idea of lying. But there he was - a changed man. Time and Life had a way of pulling off particularly ironic pranks and this was one that would be considered a crown jewel in the crown of ironies.

"Om-" he felt Gauri inch closer to him and looked at her trembling form. Guilt hit him like a punch to the gut. If he had thought this was hard for him, he was being selfish to not consider how much harder it was going to be for her. What he and Shivaay had planned would require Gauri to hit back at Swetlana with a dose of her own medicine. He'd always been told that only poison could kill poison and so this was what the plan was- they were counting on the first impression that Om had of Gauri - the fiery woman who would cut you if you tried to mess with her combined with the misunderstanding that Gauri Kumari Sharma was a gold digger. Om knew it would be hard on Gauri to say and do what she needed to do today because she was not inherently a mean or a scheming person. She had good intentions despite her crooked ways and it had taken him a few days to understand that he was the one who should be grateful for everything that had led him to her. He let her lean on him and allowed himself to close his eyes and let the feelings of desire wash over him. It was an absurd time to want to hold her, but he had never been the one to do things as they should be done. He'd always played with the colours and now the colours were playing with him.

"You can do this Gauri." he gently patted her hand to reassure her.

She had trusted him completely and now, it was his turn.