Zehal-e-Miskeen - A Tale of Lost Love [part 2 link, page 23]

He walked into the small one storey apartment that his brother now called home. His suitcase was thrown onto one of the couches, its soft thud kicking up a resonate of minute dust particles that caught the sunlight streaming through the balcony windows.

His hands roamed on the wooden furnitures, the little quirks, the spare set of keys on the small cabinet by the wall. The living space was open plan, so he could see into the small kitchen with its homely country feel, accessorised with an old stove and a cookbook which was proudly on display beside it.

Why Dev had chosen to leave behind the riches and royalities of the Khurana mansion to shack up with his wife in a place like this, he'd never know.

Settling down beside his suitcase, one hand drumming away on top of it, he wondered if his wife had been the one to persuade him to move away from his home. He had heard many old wives' tales of demanding wives who hated living with the family and wanted a place that they could rule over of their own. It would explain the drastic downgrade, but he sensed that his mother's death played more of a part in the abandoning of the Khurana Mansion than anything else.

If he'd wanted, he could have easily claimed his keys to KM and sought peace and solidarity by himself in a 15 bedroomed house, the ceilings laced with intricate designs, the floor a permanent shining marble. But the house had been locked up for many years, becoming an empty desolate place. The sounds of laughter and happiness that became a long ago memory in his mind from his childhood would no longer be found there.

His mother had passed away. His father was in jail, serving his 20 years for tax evasion, having being convicted shortly after his mother's death. His grandmother had passed away 2 years ago, from a sudden heart attack. His brother had left the place, locking its gates for the unforeseeable future.

And himself? He had escaped a long time ago.

The lock turned into the door and he immediately stood up, his palms suddenly sweating and his heart suddenly racing. He wouldn't know what to say to Dev when he walked through the door. Would he greet him? Offer himself for a brotherly hug?

Dev had agreed to let him stay here on his return to India, but would he even look at the prodigal one in the eye?

Instead of Dev, he saw a young woman in a long kurti and a straight legged pair of jeans with a red shawl wrapped around her step through the door, juggling a bag of groceries. He noticed the long brown hair which cascaded down her back like a waterfall as she turned to lock the door, and then she turned back and jumped when she saw him, sending the bag of apples bouncing across the floor.

"Oh! You gave me a fright!" her hand flew to her chest, noticing the same dark eyes that Dev possessed and knowing who he would be. "You must be his brother, right? I'm so sorry for sounding ignorant, but I don't actually know your name. Dev never mentioned it."

She smiled earnestly but was taken aback by the holes he seemed to pierce through her with his eyes. She had learnt that he was an aloof personality, keeping himself to himself with little regards for anyone else. So she shrugged off his persistent staring and began to retrieve the apples, putting his odd behaviour down to his unsociable personality.

His fists curled to his sides as he watched her every movement, with a thousand flashbacks coursing through his mind at the remembrance of her eyes. He only realised he was still staring when she walked through to the kitchen and began to ask him something, which only registered when he snapped his gaze away from her and his mind freed itself from its previous haze.

"I'll take the no response as a yes," she called, and he could only nod as he heard the sound of the kettle boiling.

Composing himself, he cleared his throat and painted on an expressionless facade as he walked to the kitchen to properly greet her. If it really was who he thought he was, this was the only way he'd be sure.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself properly. Maan Khurana."

She looked up at him from the mug that she was scooping coffee into and smiled. "I'm Geet."

That evening, dinner had been a solemn affair. Usually the conversation was overflowing with Dev relating his day at the office, Geet chattering about how the neighbour had offered her a slice of lemon cake which tasted horrendous, and the low chatter of a daily soap opera would be playing in the background on the small television.

Today it was all silence, with the clatterings of the forks and knives and the sips of wine being the only sound effects they had.

"How is the pasta?" Geet asked, attempting to break the tense atmosphere.

"Delicious," Dev said. Maan could only nod in response.

"How was your day, Dev?"

"Productive."

The silent eating continued, and then Dev lost his temper as he slammed his utensils down and leant across the table to tower over Maan. "Why the hell did you come back?" he gritted through clenched teeth.

"You know exactly why."

"Yes, I do. I do know why. You've seen how well the Khurana Empire is doing and you've decided now is the time to gain you profits whilst you can."

"I want to make amends." Maan was beginning to lose his own temper. He gripped the side of his chair, ever aware of Geet's shocked face peering over Dev's shoulder, her face a mask of worry. He didn't want to lash out at his brother in front of her, but he would if he pushed him over the edge.

"Amends for what? You wished her dead, so she is. He's rotting in jail. And I would die a very happy man if I never saw your face again."

Maan pushed his chair back and stood up, his eyes a shocking red. "Why did you agree to letting me stay here?"

"I wanted to suss you out, work out what your scheme was behind coming back. Is it now, 7 years later, that you realised that you have a heart? 7 years later you realised whose blood it is that courses through your veins?"

"You seem to be forgetting why I left in the first place, Dev. I swear to God, I didn't want to drag up the skeletons of the past but lord help you if you think I'll stand here and let you throw my mistakes back into my face without a single flinch from me."

Geet placed a hand on Dev's shoulder. "Dev, let it go for now."

"Stay out of this."

"I can understand but-"

"Geet, I'm telling you stay out of it once, I won't tell you again."

She stood up and began collecting the dishes, her heart pounding from fear.

When she was out of earshot, Maan leaned close enough to Dev's ear. "What did you do to her?" he bit out, his eyes burning with fury.

Dev scanned his brother's expression and they held their defiant gazes, until Geet reappeared, her eyes flitting between the two. Dev moved away from the table, raking his hands through his hair.

"I'm going to sleep, we'll talk about this in the morning," was all he said before he stalked off upstairs. Maan glanced at Geet whose eyes followed her husband's worn expression as he padded up the staircase.

"I'm sorry, I'll be two minutes," she whispered to Maan as she followed him up.

He saw the half empty wine bottle sat on the table and grabbed it, swigging it to his mouth without a second thought. He opened the doors to the small window balcony which overlooked the picturesque village and lit a cigarette, smoking and drinking simultaneously as his mind wandered to the past.

When she returned 10 minutes later, with fresh bedding in her hand, she found him stood outside. The pangs of tobacco hit her nostrils and she grimaced, not being able to stand that smell.

"Excuse me, Maan?" she said from the inside of the room, and he turned around. Her eyes had always shone, even in the darkest of the nights.

"I'm sorry but if you need to smoke, could you step out of the apartment? Or at least keep the doors closed? I don't mean to sound rude but the smell of tobacco makes my stomach churn."

He threw the still lit cigarette over the balcony mindlessly, and pointed to the empty bottle he had placed on the floor. "I finished all your wine," he mumbled as he staggered in.

"It's ok," she said as she plumped his pillow for him on the couch. " You'll have to sleep here for a few nights, the guest bedroom isn't quite clean yet. It's still got half of my supplies in there."

"Supplies?"

"I paint as a hobby."

"Really?"

She nodded as he settled onto the couch, leaving the bedding resting on the top as it was.

"Let us know if you need anything."

"Hmm."

"Don't worry about Dev. He'll come around. He just needs some time."

"Hmm."

"Good night."

She crept upstairs slowly, leaving him staring at the blank ceiling with another sleepless night ahead of him.

"Give me my ice cream back!"

She shook her head, gaving it a satisfying lick to annoy him further, and then she ran deeper into the maze.

"Geet!" he called, and he could hear the soft rustles, the occasional giggle, but he couldn't see the long mane of hair or the twinkling hazel eyes.

"If you don't come out I'll make sure to tell Mama that you can never come over to play again!"

"You wouldn't dare!" she yelled, and broke out into a run, following the sound of her voice.

The green blurs of the maze seemed to merge endlessly as he ran, and ran, searching, his eyes always moving around. He could hear her, he could feel her presence. He just couldn't hear her.

"Maan!" the playful voice called out from behind him, and when he turned back he saw her clutching to the sleeve of Dev's shirt, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Geet? What are you doing with Dev?" was the first question that came into his mind as he stalked towards them, growing restless.

"He found me! And he promised me another ice cream if I stuck with him and didn't let you find me."

Dev smiled at Maan, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "She really likes ice cream, huh?"

"Geet, we were going to explore the bottom of the garden after lunch, remember? Come on, Mama must have made the parathas by now."

"I want to stay with Dev!" she pouted, her big eyes widening. "He said I can have whatever flavour I want! Right, Dev?" she looked up at him with a face full of admiration, and Maan resisted the urge to pull her out of his brother's arms and drag her along with him.

All Dev could do was stare blankly as his eyes moved from Maan to Geet's. Maan huffed and stormed away, the 10 year old boy's face full of annoyance and jealousy. 11 year old Dev watched his brother leave as 9 year old Geet bounced up and down next to him, her pigtails flying as she awaited her third ice cream.

Dev shot up in bed, soaked in cold sweat. The persisent dream of his vivid childhood memory had refused to leave him when he'd first experience it 5 years ago, and it had returned tonight - stronger, more potent, more powerful.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced at Geet, who slept serenely beside him, her hands resting under her cheek. His mind drifted back to 10 years ago when he recalled Geet falling asleep in a car ride on their way back from a trip to the zoo. Whilst he had just stared at the girl over his shoulder, Maan had shifted closer to her and propped her head on his shoulder, covering her with his jacket so she wouldn't get cold.

He had felt it then, the pangs of jealousy. That very pang of jealousy had torn apart his family, his relations. His brother.

He knew Maan would be awake. He didn't know his brother at all if he thought he could have slept after seeing Geet again for the first time in 7 years.

She didn't remember their childhood. But they did, and now he knew it was a battle of lockdown until one of them was pushed over the edge.

***

Half of him was tempted to storm out of the door and never return.

His eyes ached from fatigue, but he couldn't close his lids, no matter what happened.

She was happy with Dev. He had seen it, by the smile she had given him when she'd walked through the door. The pride that emanated from her as she walked around her apartment. The look in her eyes when she served Dev dinner that night.

He drifted back to that eventful night, the night which drove him out of the country, away from his family and away from her for almost half of his life. The night where tears had been released, and punches had been thrown. The night where wails of despair and agony had reverberated around their lives. The night when betrayal was handed on a plate and revenge had been sought, the night which had torn Geet away from him forever.

They had been inseperable, and he had fallen in love with her the first time 6 year old Geet had set foot into their house, in a pink dress with a dimpled smile, cherub cheeks and clear eyes. His mother had introduced Geet to Dev, who had nodded curtly and then to himself. All he could do was smile back at her in awe when she'd beamed at him, her face full of promises of happiness.

She didn't know. She didn't remember. Why didn't she remember?

If he'd meant even an inkling of what she'd meant to him, she would have known. The summer days spent digging up worms and eating mud, the evenings spent being scolded by his mother. The winter days spent with Geet teaching Maan how to colour so it stayed within the lines. The evenings after school spent with Maan teaching Geet how to use a games console.

He inhaled slowly, feeling his nerves tingle in anticipating for another tobacco fix. He set the lighter to the tip until he'd remember what she'd said, so he crept out of the door and stood beside it, leaving it just slightly ajar so he could go back in.

Maan sensed the feeling of being watched, and assuming it was Geet, his eyes snapped backwards and up to where the curtains fluttered. It was not her, but it was Dev, staring down at him with his eyes darker than ever before.

He held his gaze, not one to back down from his brother's intimidation. Not anymore.

The morning brought with it a heavy head for Geet.

"She has a migraine," Dev had said as he spilled the coffee beans into his cup, ignoring Maan's piercing gaze from the other side of the kitchen worktop.

"Does she genuinely have one or did you administer it to her?"

His eyes narrowed behind his black framed glasses. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. Why doesn't she remember me?"

"You are quite the forgettable commodity, Maan. You can leave everything and everyone behind without a second glance, and yet you resent those who treat you in the same way?"

Dev leaned forwards, a habit he had whenever he tried to intimidate his younger brother.

"I don't appreciate you asking so many personal questions about my wife. Keep your distance."

And with that, he swept his suitcase from the worktop and stormed out of the door.

***

A shadow.

It was always a shadow.

She'd narrow her eyes whenever she'd spot it, and then pick up her pace slowly when her doubt began to confirm itself. By the time the shadow was getting closer, almost threatening to touch the outline of her body, she'd break out into a full run.

The sun would beat down with its merciless gaze and she'd dodge through markets, past street vendors, down narrow alleyways and cobbled sidewalks which made the soles of her feet through her sandals ache.

All the while her eyes would be trained on the shadow, which kept up with her, refusing to move ahead or be left behind.

She didn't dare to turn around, she couldn't bring herself to. The sweat would soak through her clothes and seep into her skin, and the shadow remained persistent, and then a car would beep its horn and she'd gasp as she faced the collision of her torso colliding with a bonnet, sending her flying several feet high into the sky...

She jolted awake, sitting upright in her bed. She threw the covers aside and patted her forehead with the back of her hand.

It was 2pm, and the room was shrouded in darkness due to her previous migraine. She frowned at how light her head suddenly felt, as if it had miraculously cured itself.

She stood up to open the curtains and catch a glimpse of the teasing sunlight when there was a knock on the bedroom door. Knowing it could be none other than Maan, she threw her dressing gown over her nightdress and opened the door a fraction.

"Good afternoon."

"Afternoon."

"How are you feeling? Dev told me you had a migraine."

"Much better, thanks." She glanced at the small tray in his hands. "What's this?"

"I brought you some tea and a few painkillers. I didn't make the tea myself, I passed by a market stall. He was selling camomile tea, it's said to be good as a natural remedy."

He held the tray out, and she reached forwards to take it. When her skin came into contact with his rough calloused hands, the shadow manifested itself in her mind's eye.

The vision was so strong that it choked her breath, and she gasped as she let go, effectively dropping the tray and its contents between them.

Maan looked from the tray to Geet, his eyebrows knotted in confusion. She mumbled a feeble apology and hurried past him to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and breathing steadily.

She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew what her imagination would bring forth before her.

An undeniable truth, of a shadow that had haunted her for so many years.

There was no way she could look him in the eye. At least, not yet.