Resurgence

Chapter 6

Now

--------------------

In a completely bizarre twist of events, Suman finds herself sitting across Pushkar Kashyap, swirling a spoon in the cup of coffee he ordered for her, just moments ago. She lets her spoon create whirlpools of foam as she mixes the sugar and milk thoroughly. Oddly enough, the motion is a familiar reminder of the vortex that is her own life and how simple it is to fall into the mundanity of the person she burnt to ashes and reduced to dust, the person she once used to be.

Suman's always known that coming forward, out of nowhere and after five long years of radio silence presents its own set of complications.

The whispers. The questions. The stares.

She knows how to handle all of this. She is one of those rare, infuriating people with a three-step-plan on how to escape all awkward situations relatively unscathed. And if by misfortune, her initial plan doesn't bear fruits, there is almost, always a plan B lurking between the gears of her mind. So, imagine her surprise and embarrassment when she finds herself folding and unfolding her sleeve repeatedly under Pushkar's curious gaze as if waiting for her to be the one who breaks the ice first and say something.

"I never pictured you having lattes as a beverage," she blurts out before taking a sip from her cup of coffee, an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness lingering in the air.

Drinks. That's always a safe topic.

Pushkar raises a single brow, looking at her for a second too long before his confused expression smooths away in a cheeky grin. "Well, it took me a while to realize that hot chocolate is not something that appeals in the corporate world and coffee stains just proved to be another damn to my existence, so you know..." He offers lamely as he shrugs half-heartedly in a quizzical motion that reeks out so much familiarity that she can't help the soft chuckle that escapes her lips.

"How long have you been back, by the way?" He asks a simple question, taking a sip of his latte in between, but she hears all the implications behind his genuine curiosity.

"Hardly a month," she answers honestly, thoughts trailing off. He shoots her a look of surprise, one she barely acknowledges if the way she fiddles with the handle of her cup is any indication to go by.

Then cautiously because he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable. "What took you so long?"

"I guess..." She inhales sharply, pursuing her lips. "I was waiting for the right time."

She dares to look up from her cup of coffee and sees how Pushkar's easygoing smile transforms into something akin to compassion. For the first time, that afternoon, she regrets entering into the cafe with him, she brought this on herself — the sympathy and pity she doesn't deserve, doesn't want, deteriorating her state of mind.

"So," Pushkar prompts, tapping out an aimless beat against his knee. "I take it, I'll see more of you, now that we're going to be colleagues."

That gets a wry upturn of lips out of her. "I doubt that." Then quietly, "I don't think I quite match your firm's standards."

"Correction," He counters, clucking his tongue at her in mock-disapproval. "My father's firm."

Her face remains neutral, lip just slightly curled in amusement. "Semantics."

"Or, if you're okay with it, I could put up a word or two for you, like a recommendation."

Suman just chokes on an incredulous laugh. "As in you want me to take advantage of your position in the firm, and bear digs of nepotism for the rest of my life? I appreciate it but I think, I'll pass."