Maneet FF: Finally Found Ya, Epilogue (p102) Mar19,2015 - Page 45

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Chapter 18: Romance

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"Now the question is ..."

Geet glared at the books in front of her. Romance. No famous plays. Not romantic literature written by the greatest authors. Not Shakespeare and his Romeo and Juliet. Not Elizabeth Gaskell's Wives and Daughters or Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Not even gothic writings and their sprinkling of romance.

An actual class on the romance novels of today.

She sighed, her mouth forming into a pout. She sat back and folded her arms in silent rebellion. Why did she have to be here? What kind of university offered classes on this subject matter? Since when were romances even considered a "subject matter"? And just her luck that she had been stuck with taking THIS class when it came to fulfill her elective requirement. She was going to be a teacher! When was she going to ever use romance novels in her career? She sighed once more. With it being her last semester, she had had no choice but to take what was on offer. The only other option was to delay graduating another semester, and she would not let a romance novel do that to her.

She didn't want to be here anyways. Not after what had happened two nights ago. But to have to be here for a class like this? She huffed slightly, ruthlessly tuning out the professor's lecture. She was sure that there was nothing that woman had to say that would be worth her time. Her gaze focused on the lurid covers in front of her. The bared chests. The women almost falling out of their miniscule bodices. The two wrapped in each other's arms . . . gazing into each other's eyes.

This was love, huh? "Please," she scoffed to herself.

"Miss Handa, did you say something?" a voice called out, snagging Geet's attention.

Geet looked up, jerked out of her mini tantrum. "I'm sorry?" she asked, knowing that she was in trouble. The other students were staring at her. Some in amusement. Others in disgust. But none of those looks helped her figure out what the question was!

"I was asking the class what they thought about the assigned reading and what their views were on Samantha's actions. I believe that you had something to share?" the professor asked, tilting her head in inquiry.

"I . . . don't," Geet admitted, hanging her head in shame. Despite the fact that she thought that this was a pure waste of time, that didn't mean that she could just ignore the professor. Just because she thought that none of this could be useful to her, didn't mean that she shouldn't learn it while sitting here. "I apologize, Professor," she admitted. "I wasn't paying attention. I will do better."

The woman smiled and nodded in understanding before turning back to her lecture.

Geet sighed in relief. She could have been in some serious trouble there. But despite her promise to pay attention to the lecture, she couldn't control her thoughts from flitting away to more important things. Things like her conversation with Pari.

"Geet, I'm pregnant," she blurted out suddenly.

"I didn't even know that you were married!" Geet exclaimed in surprise.

Pari turned a bleak gaze toward Geet.

"I'm not."

Geet stared at Pari in shock, unsure of what to say. Would you say congratulations for the life that was about to come into this world? Or would you say sorry for the fact that Pari was unmarried and alone at this time? What could she say to comfort her friend? Geet reached out a hand and gently patted Pari on the shoulder, keeping silent.

"It's Vicky's baby," Pari continued unhappily.

Geet's eyes widened in horrified surprise.

"Yes, that Vicky. Another damned irresponsible Khurana who chose to run away with another woman, leaving me behind to suffer the consequences," Pari uttered bitterly. "We were in love, Geet!" Pari blurted out defensively at Geet's continued silence.

Geet opened her mouth, wanting to protest that her silence wasn't condemnation, but Pari continued on.

"Or so I thought," she finished helplessly. "Things . . . just happened. I thought he was going to propose, but when I came in on that Monday, I was faced with the truth that he had run off with Sameera. With his brother's girlfriend. Oh, we all know that Sam was a bitch, and that he really did Maan a favor . . . but he left me behind without a second thought." Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and she struggled to stop them, blotting at them fiercely.

Geet's heart clenched at the heartbreaking pain she saw in Pari's eyes. She leaned forward and hugged the woman, wanting to share some of that crushing pain.

"I thought that I had overcome it. I came back from my time off, knowing that I had to work. I had to keep myself busy. And then I find out about the pregnancy." She placed a protective hand over her womb. "I want this child. It's my child, but how am I going to . . . "

"I'm sorry, Pari. Not for the child," Geet hastened to say, "But I am sorry that you are in this position."

"Do you know what one of the worst things will be?" Pari said, turning to glance at Geet with pained eyes, knowing that this next part would hurt Geet, as well. "Maan is my friend. He cares for me. We have been through a lot of stuff over the past few years and that brings a kind of closeness in our interactions . . . greater than what a regular boss and his assistant would have. Did you know that when I came to work for him, I was in love with him?"

Geet shook her head, startled by that fact.

"I met him during a school awards ceremony and it was love at first sight," Pari admitted unashamedly. "I swore then that I would graduate and go to work for him. Which I did. But by the time I got here, he was already married to Naintara, and working with him and seeing him grouchy as a bear on a daily basis . . . well that love, which really was just a mix of hero worship and lust, just kind of died," Pari finished drily. "We became friends instead. And I was there when Rahul was born. And when Annie left Maan. I was here when Vicky . . . left."

Pari was silent for a moment, and then quickly shook her head, as if trying to shake away the bad thoughts that had taken over. She frowned slightly as that attempt failed. "And despite the fact that he isn't in love with me and his brother has betrayed him . . . he's going to ask me to marry him." She grimaced at the words. "He's going to insist on giving me the protection of his name. Why? Because he knows that even if it is the 21st century, there are people who will point their fingers at me for being an unwed mother. There are people who will call my child a bas***d and make his or her life hell. We will be rejected by a part of society because I made the poor decision of acting on my love for Vicky Khurana outside the bounds of marriage. And that is going to hurt," Pari admitted, placing a hand on her womb. "I don't want to have to leave the country just to have my baby! It's so unfair."

"That's an understatement," Geet said, her throat tight with emotion.

Pari smiled slightly before glancing off into the distance. "I'm not going to let him do it," she stated with finality. "I am not going to let his honor and his need to take care of every single person in his life make him sacrifice the chance he has right now."

She turned to gaze meaningfully at Geet. Reaching out a hand, she grabbed hold of Geet's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "The chance he has with you Geet. I am not going to get in the way of your happy ending." She turned to look off into the distance resolutely. "That man deserves a happy ending."

"Not every story has a happy ending," the lecture continued. Geet stared down at her fingers as they clenched around one of those books. "We've had countless tragedies held up to us as great literature, but the thing about romance novels is that they give women what they want. And what do we want? Women demand their happy endings. If there is no happy ending, then it isn't a romance novel. The writing has changed. Values have changed. But despite it all, the bigger the rogue our hero is or the grouchier he is, it's all the sweeter when he falls for his heroine."

Geet smiled softly at those words.

"And our heroes have to have those qualities that are inherent in a good man. True that some of the romance authors have forgotten that or choose to ignore it, but how can a man be a hero unless he is upright, honest, strong, and capable of carrying the world on his shoulders? A man must be capable of sacrifice for the greater good. But there's this tension between that call for nobility and a true romance novel hero . . . we want our heroes to put their woman first. Ahead of everything and everyone else. That's just the honest truth." The woman laughed softly, before turning to write on the chalkboard.

"Pari . . . Pari is pregnant," Geet blurted out, hoping that this one last thing would stop him from making a foolish mistake.

Maan gazed at her quizzically, not understanding why THAT would keep them apart. "What does that have to do with anything?" he muttered helplessly, staring at the woman he KNEW to be his other half.

"She's pregnant with Vicky's child. Maan," Geet said, reaching up to grab at his collar, "She's pregnant with your brother's child and he's abandoned her!"

There had been silence. That . . . horrible . . . weighty silence. His eyes had turned bleak. His lips had firmed. And . . . he'd walked away. Maan hadn't said another word to her. He'd walked away. Leaving her behind without a second thought. Her hands had almost reached out to grab him, wanting to hold on. She'd wanted to grasp the happiness she had seen in his eyes with all of her being, but she couldn't be that selfish, could she?

Geet stared at the books in her hands, her vision blurring from the tears that had welled up.

He had walked away from her. And she knew that he wasn't her hero. Couldn't be her hero.

"I'd like to tell you a story about a close friend," the professor continued, her voice softening. "When she was a young girl, she was gawky and awkward. No matter how much she wanted it, she could never be the belle of the ball. And that was what she thought she needed to be to catch the attentions of her hero. He'd been her best friend when they were youngsters, always looking out for her and taking care of her when she couldn't take care of herself. But one day he was no longer there, and the poor girl had to learn to live without him. He had chosen someone else, and the young girl knew that. But she didn't pine. She didn't wither away. She gained confidence in herself. How? By making herself realize that she was worthy of love. She was a good human being. Just because she wasn't flashy or incredibly beautiful, that didn't mean that she wasn't worthy of love. She decided that if he couldn't realize that, then he wasn't her hero. And thus began her search. And she began to look different . . . to be different to the people who had known her for all their lives. Guess what happened next?" the professor asked of her class.

The girls leaned forward eagerly.

"He came back to her," she related smilingly. "Her hero came back to her, now worthy of her love. He'd needed to grow . . . to mature . . . to see beyond a woman's superficial beauty. He left the other woman behind, and came to her. Leaving everything behind. Sacrificing everything for her."

She was silent for a moment.

"I have to admit that I measure all love stories that I read to that girl's story. And most of them come up short. Her love story wasn't about changing herself to be worthy of love." She took a deep breath. "It was about finding a love that was worthy of her. And that's what I want in my romance novel."

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"What a great class!" a young girl raved, clutching her romance novels to her chest. "I can't believe that our university is so liberal that they would offer courses like this."

"I totally agree," another young girl gushed. "Can you believe the story the professor told us? I bet you that was her story. She was just too dreamy-eyed when she was telling it."

"True love," a third girl sighed. "I want to meet my soulmate, too. I don't want to have to marry the jerk my parents keep pushing at me!"

One of the giggling students bumped into Geet, hard enough to make her drop the books in her hands. "Damn it!' she swore softly, kneeling down to gather the books. With a distracted 'sorry' thrown over a shoulder, the girl walked away, uncaring of another's problems.

"Idiotic girls," Geet muttered to herself, as she gathered up the novels. She tumbled forward when someone hit her from behind. "What the heck?!" she said, glaring over one shoulder at the oaf that had almost stepped on her. Her eyes widened to realize that he was standing on her dupatta. "Would you mind?" she asked in a grumpy tone, nudging at his knee with her fist.

"I'm sorry," the man said, kneeling down to help her. "I didn't see you there."

Geet nodded, choosing to keep her eyes on the task at hand. She took the books he handed over with a small nod of gratitude, before getting up to go. She needed to get home. She had to go back to the Khurana mansion and face everything again. What she didn't have time for was all this.

"Wait, you left this behind," he called after her.

Geet turned around, her eyes landing on the syllabus for the class she had just left.

His eyes followed her baleful gaze to the syllabus and back up to stare at her quizzically. "How do you like the class?" he asked with a smile. "I've heard some good things about it."

Geet made a face. "It's completely worthless," she said shortly. "After all," she continued, grabbing the syllabus from his hands, "It's nothing I can use in everyday life. There's no real romantic love in this world. Who actually gets their happily ever after? Who really dreams of and expects a destined mate coming on a white horse, with flowers in one hand and a ring in the other, to propose?" Her words were bitter and the expression on her face heartbreaking.

She waited for a beat, expecting some sort of defense. But there was nothing. She frowned before turning to walk away. She didn't understand herself anymore. Why was she so angry? Why the disappointment? When had she begun to dream? When had she dared to dream that she could have . . . him?

"You're wrong, you know," the man called out from behind her.

Geet turned to look at him.

"You're wrong," he repeated. "Love is real. It's possible. It's there for every one of us. If you would only open your eyes and look."

"Really? I just open my eyes, and it'll be there. Right in front of me. Waiting just for me?" she spat out. "It's that easy?" She sat down on a nearby bench, unable to get her legs to support her any longer. Everything was just becoming too much!

"I never said it was easy," he replied. "Nothing worth having is easy," he said softly, sitting down beside her to impart the next bit. "And I can tell you that love is definitely worth having."

"Some love," she muttered. "What good is love if all it does is leave you hurting?"

"Anything that beautiful will hurt just a little bit," he promptly replied. "And pain just reminds you that you're alive."

"I think happiness would do just as well," she shot back. "What good is love if it seduces you into being selfish and forgetting all else?"

"Love isn't selfish," he replied, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest. "Only those who love become selfish in order to protect it."

"I don't agree," she said helplessly. "Love expects a sacrifice. And sometimes that sacrifice just might be too much."

"You have to sacrifice for love," he said, staring off into the distance. "It demands it. You have to forget who you are . . . leave it all behind . . . every other person in the past . . . in order to prove that you deserve that love. When you find something true, it's really, really hard to let it go. It's hard not to fly . . . despite whatever else you may have holding you to earth."

"So, it leaves you with regret?" she asked, turning to stare at him. "You regret it."

"Yes, it can leave you with regret," he replied. "But I certainly don't regret it."

Geet turned away, her thoughts turning back to the man that had touched her heart. The man that she yearned to love freely . . . but could she demand that sacrifice from him? It was his honor that made Maan Singh Khurana the man he was. Could she demand that he sacrifice that honor to love her? Especially when she had her own horrible secrets that demanded some sort of sacrifice.

"Dev! How long have you been waiting?" a woman's voice demanded from across the courtyard.

Geet froze, her eyes widening. But no, she shook her head. It couldn't be. What was she thinking? That man wouldn't have the nerve to come back.

"You're finally out, Mrs. Khurana," the man beside her called out. "I was just talking to one of your students," he said, smiling down at Geet before standing up. He pushed up the glasses that had been sliding down the bridge of his nose and gestured for the professor to come over. "It seems that she really likes your class. It might even change her worldview, Meera," he said softly, gazing into his wife's eyes. "I know that you changed my world," he murmured, leaning down to gently tap her head with his.

Meera laughed softly, before pushing away from him. "I'm glad that you're liking the class, Ms. Handa. But I am surprised. It didn't look like you were enjoying yourself too much during the lecture."

"Just some personal problems," Geet replied shortly.

Meera nodded sympathetically before turning to Dev. "Shall we go Mr. Khurana?" she asked softly. "I think it's time that we start working on the reason you returned to this country."

The smile disappeared from the man's face for a moment before he forced it back. "You're right. Let's go. It was a pleasure talking to you," he said turning to look at Geet. "I hope you do find something of value in what Meera says. I know I did. Her words . . . her love for me helped me to face my own demons. They were my motivation to escape the prison I had built for myself." With one final wave, the pair turned to go.

Geet stared at the couple walking away. The two laughed loudly, drunk on their own love for each other. She watched as he put his arm around her, hugging her close to him. She snuggled closely, uncaring of how she might appear.

Carefree. . .

Sitting in that classroom, listening to her lecture. . . having that conversation with that man and hearing his words . . . she hadn't known who they were.

Meera and Dev Khurana.

Dev Khurana.

The brother who had run away without a second thought to the troubles he was leaving behind.

Careless . . .

AN: Here's the latest update on this story. Sorry for the late update, but better late than never, correct? I hope you like it. Please leave a comment if you do! 😉

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Chapter 19: Letting Go