The Chauffeur And The Mistress (One Shot)|✓

The Chauffeur and the Mistress

नफरत बता रही है कि महौब्बत गज़ब की थी।

"Surbhi, this is our new chauffeur. He'll be attending us from today onwards."

Surbhi is sitting on the couch, tending to the strap of her heels when she hears Arnav's stone-cold voice informing her about the new employment. It's more of an announcement than an information.

She, however, doesn't look up, not wanting to face her husband this early in the morning and simply nods.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" The demand comes next second and Surbhi sighs loudly.

This man doesn't care where he is or amongst whom he is standing. Even after knowing that a stranger is in the house, he's still behaving like this; has to familiarise this stranger with their everyday disputes and shouting matches.

Great, if he doesn't care then she won't too.

Surbhi doesn't look up.

"I'm giving you a minute more to look at me, the consequence wouldn't be good else wise," Arnav says in a threatening voice and just as she thinks of submitting, a new voice intervenes.

"Sir, you said that you and Ma'am have to reach office at 10. It's already 9, if we don't move now, we won't be able to reach on time."

Now that isn't a new voice, isn't the voice of a stranger. On the contrary, it's the most familiar voice of them all; the voice that has given peace to Surbhi's soul for years and years; the voice that once tended to her heart's wounds and remnants of which still do; the voice that somehow has still managed to attract and intrigue her, all over again. It's the voice that she hasn't heard in the past 3 years but hasn't ever stopped thinking about.

It's the voice of her first love.

Surbhi's head instantly snaps up to the source of the voice to confirm her suspicion but before she can get a glimpse of the man, he's turning around.

She really wants to know if she is merely imagining things or this really happened. She wants to know if that person is really him. She can't not know his voice. It has to be him.

Surbhi scampers up from the sofa but her saree comes undone, faltering her steps. Her husband is right there standing at the door and suddenly Surbhi's very thankful about her saree.

"Let me fix this thing," she says pointing to her saree, "you go."

"Do you think you are in a position to order me around?" Her husband quirks maliciously and she grits her teeth.

"What are you even on about? When did I -"

"Just mum your stupid mouth and don't take more than a minute to fix up the disaster that you are." He growls, interrupting her and walks out of the door.

Surbhi all but rolls her eyes, not spending more than a nonchalant second on this everyday scene. She sits on the couch and tends to her saree, and simultaneously thinks.

On one hand, her heart is sinking, dreading those sixty minutes that she'll have to share with her husband by sitting with him in the same car, while on the other hand, her heart is rabbiting in her chest from the anticipation of seeing him after years. Three long summers and winters.

She really wants to see if he's still the same as he was three years ago or has become a different man; if his hair is still long and wavy, curling at the nape of his neck; if the dimple still appears right beneath the apple of his right cheek; if his voice is still raspy when he wakes up in the morning and sweet in the evening; if his hands still shiver slightly while talking to a girl - while talking to her; if his gaze is still welcoming and soft; and if he still - if his heart still has a place for one.