WILDFLOWER

Chapter 8

Back home at her father's place, she enjoyed all the fuss and attention from Amita while her father went through the pictures she had taken on her phone.

She turned to the woman who was smoothing the travel messed hair that had curled in all directions.

"Amita?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love daddy?" she asked softly when he father stepped out of the kitchen where they had been sitting.

She watched as Amita paused for a second, one hand in midair before patting her shoulder and straightening in her chair.

"Yes, I do." Came the reply. "But no marriage," she added quickly when Jazzy opened her mouth to ask why. "I can't my dear, you see, I'm still not divorced from my first husband."

Surprised, Jazzy looked at her, waiting for further explanation.

"Well? Why not?" she prompted at the older woman's silence.

"My husband is your father's cousin and that's why he left home with nothing but his clothes on," she explained quietly.

"Really? Wow.....I think my family deserves an award for all the secrets they have kept for so many years, Amita."

She looked sad and solemn as she continued her story. "I loved them both and it killed me when my husband accused your Daddy of trying to steal his wife. He just left one night and never returned. I was guilty and heartbroken for many years and I guess my husband couldn't deal with the trauma I put him through. My husband and I separated when he left the country and although we keep in touch he's made it clear that there's no getting back together and no divorce."

"Why?" asked Jazzy, a frown forming on her forehead.

"Maybe to punish me? I don't know. Then one day out of the blues, your Daddy called me – this was after your mother passed. When he came to meet me, we had lunch and poured our hearts out. I'm grateful to have him back in my life Jazzy but I can never divorce my husband, your Daddy knows that. We're both happy that we spend time together and that's all that matters."

Jazzy squeezed her fingers. "I understand," she whispered, "more than you know."

"If you love someone, you owe it to yourself to hold on to it," advised Amita with a nod.

Jumping to her feet, she patted Amita's arm. "Yes, of course. Now, I think I need to head to my dance studio before I lose whatever clients I have. I've missed too many classes lately."

Amita cocked her head to one side, "Hmm, are we talking about love or the studio?" she asked, tongue in cheek and Jazzy laughed, leaving Amita to figure it out for herself.

The studio was thriving with clients and Jazzy reveled in the energy that surrounded her as she worked out with her class. Midway, she was aware that Aditya had stood by the large glass doors for a couple of minutes waving to get her attention and grinning when she responded with an angry scowl. She ignored the sudden ecstatic feeling it brought and schooled her thoughts to the dance moves after he slinked away with a cheesy grin.

Her last class was a yoga and meditation class for a group of middle-aged corporates from a nearby office. Being their first session with her it was far more demanding and although she had an old student helping her, she was exhausted by the end of it.

Sitting alone on the floor of her studio, she turned on some slow soothing music and raised her water bottle up in the air, tilting it till its contents splashed over her face and neck before trickling between her breasts.