Until Perfect Lasts (RiKara)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I was not supposed to feel relieved. Coming back to an empty house and a handwritten note stuck on the living room mirror that says 'Take care' shouldn't calm my nerves. Yet here I am, sprawling on the couch with a bottle of ice cold water, imagining how I have got the house for myself for the first time in forever.

Loosening the hair tie holding my hair in a tight bun, I let my fingers smooth the barely present tangles as I looked at the note that strangely seemed to stare back at me with a scowl. I know it was he who had written it. It was a neat cursive with the edge of e drawn till the height of T. Maybe he had wanted to write more, but couldn't get himself to be hostile even when he knows he will be on the other end of the country when I read it. Thus is my husband, Omkara Singh Oberoi, the ever considerate, ever compassionate, ever thoughtful. Everything I pretended I was until I couldn't anymore.

I walked inside the bedroom late dinner of chicken roll still heavy in my stomach. Not bothering to change out of my work clothes, throwing the wedges in random direction, I lay on the bed.

I can sleep in work clothes, Omkara. You are not here to look at me with those slightly appalled expression as if you couldn't believe that someone can sleep without brushing or changing into cotton night suit or kissing their kids good night even if they are asleep. I can sleep rather peacefully without you I have the huge bed all for myself after all.

I tossed and turned trying to sleep until I decided I don't have to. I can go watch one of my favourite horror movies as there are no kids in the house to be scared or husband to frown at me.

"You can't really watch that, Gauri, not with the kids. What were you thinking?" he had said when I planned a weekend outing of movie and dinner for the family. Movie of my choice was Annabelle. Omkara dragged me and the kids to the game zone and once again became the man who saved the day.

His every 'what were you thinking?' translated in my mind as 'what kind of mother are you?'

"You missed PTA meeting again. What were you thinking?"

"They asked for a play station, Gauri, not doll house. What were you thinking?"

"Don't you know their dress size? Really! Extra small! What were you thinking?"

"You are saying you accepted a project in spite of knowing it will coincide with our vacation plan? What were you thinking?"

What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking of securing my job in a sexist work environment. I was thinking how this project might strengthen my position in the company. I was thinking how better commission will help us reduce our house loan's time period. I was thinking how any amount thus saved can be used for Misha and Nidhi's future education. I was thinking for them. For them, not about them. A little voice in my head whispered, but I ignored it. I had to.

I wondered what my therapist will say about this vacation conundrum that I bought upon myself.

"You can't feel guilty for choosing yourself." She will say.

"You can't take your kids for granted. Misha and Nidhi are your responsibility. Yours and Omkara's. Look at him as a partner. Not competitor." She will also say.

God! Why these therapists have to be so confusing? Maybe it's time I stop seeing her. Even that money can go to paying loan.

More than once I have wondered if I was really competing with Omkara. Ever since our first meet twelve years ago, I knew I am better than him in every way. I am better looking. I have better education. A better job. As project head of an advertising agency, I bring better money to the plate than what he does as a freelancer. In spite of all this, he stumps all my quality by being better in one thing, in being a better parent.

I don't know if it is because I am used to having an upper hand or because all the guilt that society dumps on me for not being a conventionally good mother. I can recite every jibs and snide remarks thrown at me for not being there for my own daughters.

"Your husband is the primary caretaker?" even our paediatrician frowned. Imagine that coming from a progressive woman more than anything.

On introspect; I feel Omkara should be equally offended if not more. Everyone who criticise me indirectly mean they suspect Omkara's , a father's, a man's, upbringing. That is insane amount of judgement coming from people who don't even know both of us personally. But, I am not going to do that. I am too used to this ally and woe game I keep playing with Omkara inside my head, of course. If my husband learns about it (if he hasn't already and only hiding it from me), he will voluntarily pay double for my therapy.

Sometimes, I feel it is not the society, not the subtle patriarchy I grew up around, it is all me. I feel guilty because I have something to feel in the wrong about.

If a man who ignores family for career needs to know to prioritize better, so does a woman.

I really never ask how much Omkara makes from his freelancing every month. But, if I have to judge by the amount that was deposited in our joint account last month, then I am sure he must have spent every waking moment writing. It was not as high as mine, but definitely impressive for a freelance writer. Yet, that didn't stop him from taking the girls to all their weekend classes or monthly movie date or make their science project.

How can he manage being a parent better than me?

End credits of the movie started to roll and I hardly paid attention to what the movie was about. You see what Omkara does to me, don't you? Making me question my life choices even in my leisure time and make me hate myself a little more.

I checked the clock and noticed it was already fifteen minutes to four. Though I get to start my day tomorrow late because of ad shoot, I will not get decent amount sleep. What's with me still lying alone in the bed staring at the now black screen of the TV with no trace of sleep?

I wish I had a 2 AM or in this case a 4 AM friend. Some of my old friends are jealous of me and some of them I am jealous of. There is no one with whom I can have any heartfelt conversation. I had a very close bond with my mother until she, one day, suddenly decided to become my mother in law after she took honorary position of my husband's mother.

"He is a son I always wanted." She often says. And my brother, her actual son, only grins brightly. Yes, that is how my family sees Omkara like he is incarnation of everything perfect.

Omkara adores them more if that is even possible. I cannot think of another son in law who goes to vacation at his in-laws's house for over two weeks with his daughters leaving his wife behind.

That is how Omkara has the love of my family, adoration of our daughters, respect of the society and everything else that I cannot began to name without increasing my blood pressure.

I know I have my share of blessings. But, like an adamant child I have always been, I want what he has. Or maybe, it's him that I want... back.

***

On hindsight, I realized that the story is not going to be light hearted for first few updates. It might even hit close to home for many. Also, the romance part will start only in the later half.

First five chapters are like building up a basement for the story. So, they will be short, 1K to 2K words. I can't change that. To compensate, I will try to update regularly.

After starting to write this chapter, I realized it's not gonna be as easy as other stories, at least first couple of chapters. So, be patient till I get hang of it.

If you haven't figured out already, I don't see a person as mere representation of their gender, but as an individual. This story isn't representation of women in general or about women empowerment. It is simply a story of a woman.