A/N: Hey there! :D Here's the next update! :D :D
Note: This chapter again deals with a dark theme, so in case you are uncomfortable to read it, give it a miss.
Happy Reading! :D
Ps. I'm not sure whether this is the best choice of chapter to be dedicating to you, but still, this chapter is dedicated to you, Aastha, as a small birthday gift. :) :)
Ishaani shut the book again, the same lump having risen up her throat. It was true that she had lost her ability to cry that night eighteen years ago. But it was also true that she had lost her ability to cry in the last four years as well. And yet, for the first time in those non-existent years, she felt her body shake with dry sobs seamlessly. It was just like the first time Ranveer had stripped her off her armour. She did not know where it came from and how he had managed to dismantle and break the wall around her heart that hid her away from the world, but he'd done the impossible that day.
Today, he had achieved the same feat. Again. For you, a thousand times over - that's what he had vowed. That's what he'd seen through till the end.
Jumping out from the bed as her thoughts became too staggeringly heavy for her to bear, she bolted towards the washroom and barricaded herself within. Walking up to the sink once again, she stared at her reflection that now looked haggard. Gone was the Miss Parekh whose coquette looks could make any man fall upon his feet in service. She stood before the mirror as simply Ishaani, a girl who may have very well been nine today. The same girl who always found herself alone even in a crowd full of people.
The one person who could have guided her through all the darkness in the world was the one she had let gone off. The missing weight of his hands in her own made her palms ache, but it was her heart that ached even stronger. Splashing her face with the cold water that flowed effortlessly from the basin tap, she supported herself with her hands on either side of the cool, granite platform, shivering. She needed the weight in her hands; she needed something to fill that void.
And she knew what could fill in that space. Eyeing the shelf near the basin where the scalpel abandoned from earlier sat in brooding, she took it back into her hand and let the cool metal flow through her fingers adeptly. Maybe she would be needing the services of the scalpel after all.
Letting the robe around her negligee fall off gracefully, she brought the scalpel up to her upper arm. The blade now almost scraped her soft skin, the metal causing a slight tingle as it brushed through her skin lightly. Cold metal would bring out hot blood very soon, she remarked to herself, shutting her eyes as she waited for the lethal combinations of cold and hot to drown away the imperfection of tears. She wasn't allowed to be imperfect. She had to be in command.
She waited for the pain impatiently as she angled her arm to deliver the first scar. However, she'd barely brought it down in a strike when she heard a soft voice. His soft voice.
"Don't."
Her eyes flew open with an audible gasp, staring at the reflection of the mirror in disbelief. She wheeled around to see him standing before her eyes in his favourite green shirt and casual cream pants, a small smile plastered upon his face. His eyes bore into her own with an intense understanding that it blew her off her feet momentarily.
"Ranveer..."
The scalpel almost fell off from her hand before she regained control upon it with a reflex. Ranveer continued to stand there ever-smiling, his eyes having its usual glimmer.
"What do you want?" asked Ishaani reproachfully, turning her back upon him. She chose to stare at the mirror again from where she could see him, for meeting eyes with him otherwise required a strength she couldn't muster. He shook his head like a puppy trying it rid itself of the water, speaking placidly.
"It's a bad idea, what you have in mind."
"It's not wrong," said Ishaani defiantly, her cold black eyes meeting his blazing brown orbs. She retracted her gaze away.
"It's gaining self-control," she added in a small voice.
"It's still self-harm," remarked Ranveer astutely. She scowled.
"Go away, Ranveer," cried Ishaani in disdain, staring at the scalpel angrily as though it was the object's fault.
"Wasn't pushing me away once enough for you?" taunted Ranveer sadistically out of nowhere, Ishaani feeling herself lose the colour from her cheeks. A fearful look now crossed her artistic features, her hands shivering for the first time that night.
"How did you even get in here?"
"I never left, you see," replied Ranveer carelessly, a shiver now runing down her spine. He continued. "I'm always with you. Wherever you are, there I am. It's as simple as that."
"LIES!" bellowed Ishaani as she wheeled around again, pointing the scalpel at him dangerously. "You left me!" she howled in a deranged manner, and yet Ranveer remained calm and poised.
"You are a coward, Ishaani," began Ranveer, his eyed suddenly cold. "You choose to hide under the skirts of pretense. What happened six and a half years ago is something we both know, so you needn't lie about it. You pushed me away because you were selfish and ignorant. You pushed me away because your ego was offended. You pushed me away because your insecurities sought to take refuge behind the emotional trauma you had been through. You pushed me away because you wanted to break me apart, to make me feel pain like you did. You pushed me apart because you were a coward. A coward to face your own feelings."
"Stop it! STOP IT!" begged Ishaani, while Ranveer simply smiled at her.
"That's how the truth works, Ishaani. There is no escape from it. No matter how much you can run away from it or lie to yourself about it, you cannot lie to me."
"Go away... please," she pleaded against him but Ranveer shook his head.
"Not before you walk away from what you are doing," stated Ranveer in a confident reply. Ishaani felt the scalpel in her hand grow warm.
"A scar does not make a difference, and certainly doesn't make it self-harm," she defended uselessly, not waiting to acknowledge the sneer upon Ranveer's face. "People use self-harm as a coping mechanism which provides temporary relief of intense feelings like anxiety, depression, stress, emotional numbness or a sense of failure or self-loathing. What I do is attempt at perfectionism. It's different."
"Ironic," corrected Ranveer, with a snort. "The same reasons you cited for self-harm are the ones you used as a coping mechanism five years ago."
"That was then; now is different," she argued stubbornly. "It's for the perfection, I swear," she added in a lame attempt. Ranveer ignored her statement.
"Point is, I thought that you had given up upon it four years ago," he exclaimed, and Ishaani noticed the cold disappointment in his voice.
"I'm imperfect today," replied Ishaani, rather hopeless as another tear left her eye. She wiped it away ruthlessly.
"Being human is being imperfect. It's as simple as that."
"No, it isn't. Not if you've mastered pain and control upon yourself," shot back Ishaani viciously.
She knew that she indulged in a scar only once a week back during her depression four years ago. And it had never come to the point where things had gone out of hand. It was only after six months of overcoming her initial depression and working upon the rebuilding of the Parekh Empire that she changed the motive of the weekly scar.
And it was six months later that she'd mastered the art of pain and perfection, giving up the habit for good. Her wall of iron was back around her heart. And yet it had come to be broken mercilessly by the past memory of Ranveer in the present-day after four years.
"Then do it! Make yourself perfect. I won't stop you," sighed Ranveer finally, taking a step behind.
"You won't?" asked Ishaani, astounded by the sudden turn of events.
"I won't," repeated Ranveer sincerely, giving Ishaani time to absorb his words before continuing again. "I've never stopped you in that one year when you indulged healthily into it, and I won't stop you now as well. It's your call. It always has been."
Ishaani turned around and looked back into the mirror for the fourth time that night. She twirled the scalpel into her hand thrice, contemplating the odds of it. And even before her mind had consciously come to a decision, she felt her hand fly across her upper arm in a flash of metal. She felt warm blood ooze against the cold metal, the reflection of Ranveer fading behind her at the same time.
She fell upon her knees as her arm throbbed, the scalpel falling into the basin. More tears escaped her eyes openly, the drops of blood now staining her nightie as it hung limply upon her lap. She had broken the remaining rubble of the walls around her fragile heart finally as she cried for the first time in four years. Not the mechanical two tears she cried during dinner, but the real deal.
She remained slumped upon the floor crying for an indefinite amount of time before she found herself slipping into a world of darkness, the last thought being about the alluring scent of vanilla and roses.
"You two love each other?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
"And you believe in that. You believe in your love for each other?" Elizabeth nodded.
"That's God," he said. "He goes by many names, many faces, but God is simply that " love. I find God in this church, in the faces of my parishioners. One man may find it in nature, in the majesty of a tree or a river," he said and then looked directly at Simon. "Or another man may find it in a woman's smile. Wherever it's to be found, it's to be cherished. When you find it, you hold onto it and nothing, no force, no evil can take it from you. It's yours forever. And that, my dear, is something very powerful."
The quote swirled through her head powerfully as she imagined a couple at the altar, facing each other as the man held the hands of the woman lovingly. But she soon realized that they were her hands and that she had been the woman at the altar. But who was her groom? Why was there a veil between them? And why couldn't she see him?
If only the parish could stop talking... Maybe she'd be able to focus upon who was the man in front of her. The touch of his hands were gentle yet strong and her palms no longer felt empty. The weight of his hand made her feel accompanied, the warmth in them kept her heart warm as well. It was like her hand was a perfect fit in his own.
If only she could see his face... Why couldn't the parish stop talking already? Parish... Parish... why was the name so familiar to her? And why was her arm suddenly throbbing? Parish... Parish... If only the name would stop slipping away from her mind, like her hand from the groom's.
"No!" she yelled suddenly, her palms now cold.
"Don't leave me, please!" she begged, but no one dared to catch her hand again.
But wasn't this what Sarah had told Ben as the latter was walking away from her? But who were Sarah and Ben, and how did she know them? If only things wouldn't slip away from her mind like the way they were... Parish... Parish... Parish... Her arm ached stronger now... Ache...
"That's it!" she yelled to herself mentally. Ian Hake-Parish! That was the man in need.
But why did she even remember him now? Wasn't she at the altar moments ago standing in front of her groom? Then why was she suddenly sitting on the swing at the terrace with Ranveer beside her?
"I'll be a writer one day, Ishaani, mark my words..." remarks Ranveer passionately, flourishing his pen in the air.
"But what will you gift me?" she asks him playfully, and he looks surprised.
"Didn't I promise you a dedication?"
"Oh yes, you did, but I want something more than that."
"What like?" asked Ranveer, confused. She grins mischievously.
"How about you create a pseudonym with the amalgamation of our names?"
"Terrible idea..." says Ranveer instantly, shaking his head.
"Won't you even do so much for me? I gave you the inspiration for the book, and you can't even do that much as my friend..." she mocks at him while he looks slightly troubled.
Ian Hake-Parish... Ian Hake-Parish... Parish... Parish... If only the parish could stop talking! But wait, why was she back at the altar right now? What was happening to her?
"I do..."
"I do..."
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
And just like that, the veil fell off. And to her utmost surprise, and not displeasure, the groom was Ranveer. He leaned in and met lips with her in a soft peck, her arms instantly curling around his neck as she tasted his soft, warm lips against her own that reminded her strongly of vanilla, but she could also smell fresh roses off of him. Separating apart for breath, he smiled at her gloriously.
"That's it, you're nearly there."
Ian-Hake Parish... Ranveer Vaghela ... Ranveer Vaghela... Ian Hake-Parish...
Ishaani gasped as her eyes snapped open, staring around the place disoriented. She realized that her head had fallen upon the floor, the cool tiles giving her a comforting feel. The scent of vanilla and roses were still strong as she shook her head, trying to make heads or tails of where she was. She realized after a minute that she was fallen upon the floor of the washroom.
Propping herself up back into a seating position, Ishaani felt her arm throb dully. She looked toward her left arm to see dry blood upon the scar that she had inflicted upon herself, the wound blooming purple from the edges. Turning her sight away from it, she finally managed to stand up after two staggering attempts with just one name running through her mind - Ranveer.
Ishaani gasped as the dream burned clearly in her eyes, a furious blush making her way up upon her face at the thought of having dreamt about kissing him. But those enticingly embarrassing thoughts could wait. She had to find out something for her own self; she had to see if it was true. Ignoring the wound that needed tending to, she quickly ran out of the washroom and made her way towards the storeroom in as demented a speed as her slippers would allow her to, ignoring the fact that her negligee was way above her knees and left little for imagination.
Shutting the door behind her, she quickly opened the cardboard box, practically wrenching out the copy of Caffeinated Love along with a stray pen and paper that lay uselessly alongside. She now sat crossed-legged upon the floor with her heart hammering against her ribcage, penning down three words.
Ian Hake-Parish
It barely took her a minute to switch the letters around until she found exactly the two things what she was looking for.
Ishaani Parekh
I. H. P.
Ishaani let out a cry of jubilation, the triple honour that Ranveer had bestowed upon her making her keep the paper aside as she now hugged the book close to her heart. She felt it in her heart; felt it that she was right. And tonight, she knew that she was not mistaken for her heart now beat irregularly - the same way it did every time she came into contact with anything connected to Ranveer.
Pitter patter, pitter patter.
She opened the book and read through the first dedication, the paragraph now holding an entirely new meaning this time. She let another sob leave her lips at the thought of how much he loved her still in spite of everything that they had been through. But this time, her eyes also scanned along the second dedication with inquisition to see who this other person was.
Her brows, however, contracted after she read through the dedication twice, both the times leaving her with the same observation - he was married, yet his wife was no more. She felt her heart break, thinking about how alone Ranveer must have been for the last four years as she walked back to her room with the same thought in her mind, the book now in her hand.
She barely had the time to figure her thoughts out when she heard the phone ring. Seeing Puneet's name on the caller-id, she could not help but feel surprised at his untimely hour of calling as she picked up the call in spite of herself.
"Please tell me that you are calling me up so late in the night with some good news."
"Yes, ma'am," said Puneet, glee evident in his voice.
"What is it?"
"I managed to strike a conversation with Mr. Finch today. After hours of convincing, he's agreed to have a meet with us. He and his partner will be coming to Mumbai next week, and they'll be coming by our office on the 8th."
Ishaani remained stunned for a moment before she exclaimed aloud.
"That's brilliant! Fantastic job, Mr. Puneet! Really, really fantastic job!"
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Puneet, clearly flustered. "And sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour."
"It's no issue," said Ishaani, unable to conceal the thrill in her voice. "Goodnight and do report on time tomorrow. We need to get the preparations for the consignment ready."
"Yes ma'am, and have a good night yourself."
Disconnecting the line, Ishaani now stared at her phone in triumph. Finally after six and a half years, she had embarked upon the journey to set things straight. Walking over to the washroom again, she discarded the bloody scalpel into the dustbin nearly, quickly retrieving the first aid box from the cabinet. Ten minutes later, Ishaani managed to wash away the little bloodstains not only from upon the floor, but from upon her negligee as well. Cleaning up her wound with antiseptic and water, she put a small bandage around it before changing into another nightie.
Leaving the washroom for what she hoped would be the last time that night, Ishaani deposited the previous gown and negligee into the laundry basket, suddenly entranced by the luminous light entering the room. Walking towards the source of the light as her feet brought her by the window, she leaned against the wall and stared at the glorious moon. Hugging herself as she now wore a radiant smile, she sighed contentedly before whispering to herself in tranquility.
"Eight years ago, I made you a promise that one day, we'd be rulers of the world. I think it's about time I brought that into play."
Constructive criticism will be more than welcome and sorry for any typos! :D :D
Small note: The quote used about God and Love in Ishaani's dream sequence is from the book Out Of Time by Monique Martin.
Next chapter:
Interlude 4
Rihana, yearning to break free from the predetermined fate of being a tawaif's ...
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