Married My Enemy (#1 Rajput)

89- Dependent

Started Typing On - 25/03/2019 (8.53 PM)

Chapter 89- Dependent 

~

Author's Pov: One Month Later

The first few weeks were the worst. As expected by Kiaan, Jaanvi was all quiet. She didn't speak much nor did she let him come near her. She didn't even let him hold her hand. He wouldn't say he was exactly happy but he understood. He understood she needed time to cope with this on her own. But now, after a month it was getting on his head. Whenever he tried to start a conversation she'd walk away or just sit but not look at him even once. She behaved like she was all alone. That's what she felt to be honest.

The first two weeks were mentally hard for Kiaan. He had so much pressure. His hotel was getting sold off, but the payment didn't reach him because of some legal issues-now it has-he was jobless for whole two and a half week. Of course the rent wasn't going every week but if it was his brain would have exploded. He's not a billionaire after all. A rich guy in India but a normal middle class man over here in New York.

The internet and electricity bills were going. It's not like he hates paying bills but he felt bad. Bad that money was going but not coming his way. He was all alone in a country with full responsibility of his -mute-acting-wife.

If you'd ask Jaanvi when and where Kiaan had went to for job interviews, or in general, she wouldn't know. She just woke up every morning by the time he left. Her eyes were always greeted with strong tea in a thermos bottle so it doesn't cool of by the time she wakes up. He realised she wouldn't do a lot of moving around the house so he personally swapped her bedside table to a large one, enough for a plate of breakfast to fit. She use to look at the breakfast, the thermos bottle and the spare mug but never touched it.

He kept little sticky notes outside the bathroom door, all written with things like; Have shower. Watch something. Read a book. Message papa. Put your clothes inside the basket. He wrote it all in hope that she'll follow it and take the sticky note off the door once she was done. But she never did. Beneath every sticky note was always a cute messaging like; 'Oh look at you Ariel.' 'It's getting hot in here.' 'Did someone tell you I quit alcohol because you're my new drugs.' Normally she'd smile and blush but now days her lips only moved to cry. Her cheeks only turned red because of the tears.

She was so lost in her own world that she use to forget the little as things. Jaanvi slowly realised he's been going out every morning, even in the first two and a half weeks of being in New York but before he use to return by noon, now he use to come back late. Around six thirty PM or sometimes even seven fifty-nine. She guessed he's found a job.

She's been communicating with Kiaan's family, her father and best friend via text. She doesn't trust herself with FaceTime or voice, just hearing her loved ones voice would most likely break her down. Now days she cries more than she cried during her period. It was better this way. To know they are safe and happy through texts then talking. Phone calls can be awkward. Now even thirty second silence was unbearable for her so she decided to stick to messages.

Her father has been good, least that's what he wants her to believe. He's gone to their village with her grandma. He thinks it's best to take his old mother to a village before anything bad happens, not his words but his mothers. Apparently the old lady doesn't trust her heart. Even Jaanvi doesn't trust her heart. He had sent some photo's over to Jaanvi, showing the mountains, fruit trees and one of her Grandma with some old lady. It made Jaanvi smile after so long.

She was sitting on the window's edge board, gazing down at the busy roads as the traffic lights turned red. She kept looking at the people walking on the footpath when she heard the bedroom door crack open. She sighs uncomfortably. She hates this feeling but she wishes, she so wishes he'd stay at work. She hated how he'll try and communicate with her. How he's crack jokes-sometimes lame-or speak about the new people he met. She just didn't like it. She turned into an old grandma. All she wanted was silence.