Chapter Thirteen: Things We Should Have Known
Date: 18th July 2012
Time: 7.54 p.m
Place: West side patio, Mansfield Castle Hotel, Scottish Highlands
Mood: bewildered
"You, you miscarried..." Dutta barely managed.
Roops nodded her head, clarifying:
"Twice."
Dutta was taken aback he didn't really know what to think. How selfish of a brother could he have been to not even know his sister had been pregnant and miscarried?
Twice.
The shame must have been plastered on his face, because suddenly Roops placed her own hand on top of his and spoke yet again, her tone gentle and somewhat reserved.
"It's not your fault. How were you to know? You just walked out of my life right after I married."
Dutta felt even more ashamed.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" She challenged.
That had done it.
Dutta who had avoided looking directly in her eyes, maybe because he was ashamed or probably because he knew there was nothing he could do or say to comfort his baby sister, however now looked up and maintained her stare.
"Yes." He responded clearly, his eyes glistening.
True he had walked out of their lives. But one thing was certain, after everything that had come to light today his love for his sister was real. He did feel ashamed. He was sorry, he was very sorry that he had been so selfish, that Roop had gone through so much alone, while he remained completely oblivious to her pain.
He now placed his (other) free hand on top of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, but Roop, forcefully retracted her own, her eyes tearing up she looked in the other direction and half laughed;
"Please don't tell me my big brother is suddenly feeling sorry for me."
She turned to face him now, placing her hands underneath her as she sat on the bench, Roops spoke again;
"Don't. I don't need anyone's pity. Especially yours."
"Roop I don't pity you..."
"Really? Because that's how it looks from my end." She hissed.
A tear furiously splashed down her left eye; she let it as she spoke again; her voice tethering on breaking.
"I don't need your pity. I never have. All I ever wanted was my Bhau. The same Bhau who loved and cared for Baji."
Dutta felt a piercing pain at hearing his sister speak from the heart, yet it was her next complaint that really hurt:
"Why couldn't you be my bhau?"
Dutta felt as though someone was crushing his lungs. Breathing became difficult as Roops carried on;
"I used to worship the ground you walked on. You were my older brother. My brother. My cool brother, who read his comics, zoomed around on his bike and secretly smoked. You were my rebellious rogue. You were everything to me and much more still."
She paused before she added completely heartbroken;
"But what was I to you?"
She smiled her sad smile again;
"The annoying little girl with two pigtails who followed you and Baji around the house. That's it. Right?"
She now looked up at him as if to challenge him, as though Dutta would suddenly speak out and tell her she was wrong.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
She was right.
"Roop I'm s..."
"Sorry" she finished for him, scoffing somewhat.
"Don't be." She advised.
"Seriously, don't be. What are you apologising for anyway?"
She paused; again Dutta was lost for words;
"All you did was; get out of the Hell hole otherwise known as our home. All you did was; decide to live your own life. On your own terms. All you did was; say no to the chosen path before you. All you did Dutta, was; live your life. Why are you apologising for that?"
It felt like someone had splashed a cold bucket of water over his body.
"Don't apologise for getting out while you could. Don't. Because..."
She took in a deep breath;
"...Because then my whole life will be a lie."
"What?"
"Yeah you heard right." She elucidated.
"You know every time you rebelled growing up, it made me happy. I felt that may be if the golden child was acting up, mom and dad would realise they had another kid too. One who did everything they wanted of them. But I was wrong."
She let out a small sigh before continuing;
"By the time I hit thirteen, I knew I was a Patil. A Patil girl, which meant one thing and one thing only: I was to do and say exactly as was expected of a Patil. Do you know most girls my age were embracing the final years of their childhood before they would face the real world' while I? I was practicing sitting with my back straight, the way a proper lady should. I was practising how to greet guests, the way any proper lady of the house would. Yet it didn't bother me. I was taught I was a Patil. This is what I had to do. NO questions asked. Even when I hit sixteen, and people were falling in love left, right and centre, I stopped myself. I didn't even let myself experience what a crush would feel like, because I knew I couldn't. It wasn't my birthright."
There, right there, those words had been uttered again; birth right' the exact same ones that had been the bane of Dutta's existence from the very start.
"I guess I had resigned to my fate. But then you changed that. At first it was the small things: smoking, skipping events, not dressing the way mom insisted you should. They let it slide; they let all of your insolent acts slide. It gave me hope. For some reason I thought that this was them softening up. I was an idiot to think that. A naive idiotic fool. The biggest blow of my life came when you got into Yale and left. For a millisecond I felt that this was it maybe I now had a chance, maybe I could now tell mom that I too didn't want to tread on this preconceived path that was laid in front of me. But I was wrong. Again. Unlike you I couldn't even get my words out. As quick as the thought had entered my head it evaporated when I saw dad."
She carried on;
"I was weak. I couldn't stand up to him. I couldn't tell him that maybe I had wanted to attend law school. That maybe there was more to me than being someone's wife. That maybe I didn't want to marry Armaan. That maybe the two times I lost my child was because..."
"Because what Roop?" Dutta was now tethering on furious.
If what Dutta had now thought was true, Armaan was going to be sorry.
Really sorry.
Roop shook her head;
"He may be a lot of things but even he wouldn't do that to me. To our children."
"I envied and admired you all the same. I envied you because you said no to Priya while I didn't even get asked if Armaan was ok. I admired you because you walked out of the wedding, while I wasn't even allowed to pick out my own outfit. There's no point in me comparing us, because I would always be the second child. The girl. But don't sit here and apologise to me like you feel bad for living your life. Don't. Because all that will do is diminish my respect for you."
She now looked at him directly;
"But, you do have something to apologise for and that's: walking out on me."
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"What was I supposed to do? They had organised the freaking engagement and a summer wedding. I was the last to know. The groom!" Dutta explained.
"How couldn't I have walked out?" He was pleading somewhat. Hoping that his sister would understand what he was going through.
"You did what I had hoped and prayed you would." She spoke instantly, taking Dutta by complete surprise:
"You, what?!"
"Yep, I found out on my mehndi, through Priya nonetheless and since that day right up until you left that's all I wanted you to do: to reject the rishta. Priya is my friend-but I would never wish a forced marriage upon anyone. Anyone. Lest of all one of my friends and brother. But I was hoping you'd at least remember that you aren't alone. That while you may not have faced many of the repercussions, I might."
"Roop, what did they do to you?"
"If by they,' you mean mom and dad. Then nothing."
She now half laughed.
"That has always been their problem; that when it came to me they are complete empty vessels."
"Then, who?"
"Did it never strike you odd that the Sharma's were so on board for this wedding? Especially when there are many young entrepreneurs at their fingertips. Many corporate men, who did follow in their father's footsteps? Why was it then, that they were so keen on you?"
"I'm guessing it was a combo of my good looks and charm." Dutta dryly said.
Roops rolled her eyes.
"Why must I spell everything out for you?"
"Your in-law's." Dutta interrupted.
"Not only did my in-law's arrange this rishta, but it was supposed to be a three way pact to bolster all three families. Dad would find a way into the pharma industry with the help of my in laws, who in turn were going to tap into the entertainment/eatery market with the help of the Sharma's so long as they..."
"...were given a first class ticket into the stock market." Dutta finished for her.
"My marriage was only a part of the deal. Mom and Dad-especially Dad needed you to seal the deal. But..."
"I didn't." Dutta mumbled as his ears turned a deep shade of scarlet indicating his further embarrassment.
Of course it all made sense now, that night when he had flown back from Johannesburg for Roops' wedding, his mother had made a point to especially highlight how important this wedding was for his father. But more so their showdown right after he'd stumbled into the Sharma-Patil plan that was being made outside on the patio, made all the more sense.
Of course Dutta and his father never saw eye to eye and while they may have argued many times (Dutta, rejecting Harvard for Yale, economics for journalism, etc,) that night there had been venom in his father's words. There had been a sense of finality. All of which now became abundantly clear.
"Lemme guess you want to apologise to me about that too?" Roops mocked.
Dutta blushed.
"Go ahead."
Dutta looked up at her somewhat amazed.
"Go ahead. Because you're right, it was because of you that my father and mother in law soured towards me..."
"And Armaan?"
"He's an only son. What do you rec?"
"That I want to punch him in the face. Repeatedly?"
"I'm not going to lie: Armaan and I didn't have the smoothest marriage, but we worked through it. We are working through it. Turns out he too like me, had dreams of his own. Ones which he decided to accomplish. It was hard, but I respect him for that decision. We moved out of his folks place a year ago. It was not easy. It still stings his mother. A wounded pride is one thing, but a wounded pride and hotel full of close friends and associates?"
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"She's here," Roops enlightened Dutta.
"What?"
"She's here at Baji's wedding." She explained, so casually as though she was making a generic remark like; rain is wet,' which to Dutta spoke volumes.
How could she be so calm, rational so impassive about the whole situation?
Surely it bothered her?
It should bother her.
Dutta had been sat in silence ten minutes after she'd first let it slip, he was still processing how that could even happen, before Roops dropped another bombshell, that she was here, at Baji's wedding.
In front of mom nonetheless.
"Who is she?" Dutta asked, although he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know.
"You haven't seen her yet?" Roops' eyes had widened in amusement.
"Who is she Roops, what does she look like?" Dutta continued, not liking the patronising way his sister was looking at him.
Roop smiled-a proper smile. He even noted her eyes glint somewhat as she rattled off a description:
"Tall, like mom, though she has a slimmer build, and shorter hair, kinda coiffed...don't worry you'll know who she is with just one glance, Bhau. You'll know as soon as you see her. Trust me. You'll know that it's her, that she is dad's mistress."
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Dutta was still reeling from what Roops had told him. When she spoke again:
"You never put the pieces together?"
Dutta continued staring at his feet, racking his brain to remember if he'd ever grown suspicious.
But alas no.
"The constant away trips, the mysterious beach houses we knew dad owned but were never allowed to visit." Roops began to prompt;
"Why he religiously dyes his hair black? The thought never even crossed your mind?" Roop asked her face completely fascinated as she saw that indeed Dutta was clueless.
"Seriously?"
Dutta was beginning to feel embarrassed. Well if it was possible to feel any more embarrassed.
"How long has it been going on?" He asked gingerly, feeling anxious about the answer Roop would give.
"In all honesty, I don't know. I found out when I was fourteen, but my guess is a long time. And after today, I get the feeling, may be soon after I was born."
"What makes you say that?"
"I just have a hunch."
"Based on?"
"I saw her earlier."
Dutta looked at her blankly;
"The mistress."
"Don't call her that."
"Ok Mom number two. Happy?"
"That's worse."
"Seriously bhau, grow up. Dad isn't the first, nor will he be the last. I don't condone this and yes it is my biggest fear that maybe some ways down the line Armaan will do the same, but this is what happens. This is the norm for us."
Roops had spoken impassively, as though leading doubles lives and having affairs was customary. Although Dutta knew this happened. That people were unfaithful. A lot. He had seen plenty growing up in the world he had, but there is this thing about life and humans. We tend to acknowledge the dirty side of things, but impassively as though they run parallel to us. That is until that parallel universe comes colliding into our own.
While Dutta in no-way could condone what his father did-heck there was no ok in cheating at all. Period. He truthfully hadn't thought much about it. Well until now. And, now, he couldn't help but feel morally repulsed.
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"Vanilla and mixed spice. You never thought it odd that, of all the scents in the world, all the massive brands at mom's fingertips, she always paraded around the house like it was Christmas with her sickly vanilla and mixed spice smell?" Roops questioned Dutta.
Dutta continued looking at his feet. An hour ago when Roops' had begun filling him in, he wasn't really sure what to expect. Of course he knew there must have been a few skeletons stocked carefully away in the Patil family closet but this; this was a whole new sense of surprise.
Indeed he'd missed a lot, and scarily, most of which was going on while he still lived in the Patil Manor. Dutta couldn't help but feel selfish, he'd been so busy running away from his own dictated life, that he didn't spare a moment for what his sister had to grow up with or what his mother was facing, daily.
"It's by her." Roops affirmed.
"It's her own scent. That's what she does, she's in the fragrance business."
The thought struck Dutta:
"Wait so you're actually telling me dad buys that that scent and gives it to mom. Does mom know?"
"How thick are you?" Roops blurted out, looking at her brother with complete surprise.
"What?"
"Of course mom knows. Mom knows everything."
"She knows?" Dutta breathed.
"Yes. Why do you think she got dad to buy the beach houses? To keep that part of his life as far away from Patil Manor."
"She knows." He repeated, struggling to digest the information Roops fed him with.
"Yes. And if anything even if dad didn't buy that scent for her. She'd track it down herself and wear it."
Dutta looked confused.
For a second Roop wanted to hug her older borther. Who may have been older but was none the wiser to the life of socialites.
"It's the perfect revenge." Roops informed him, as though she was reading his mind.
"Perfect? Revenge? I don't see it."
"And you won't either. It's revenge because it's her way of having one over dad. He can have his mistress but she wears that scent to parade his shame before him. She wears it to wound his pride. She does it as a mark of disrespect. It's there to remind him that she is his wife and unafraid to remind him. And that is why it is perfect."
"That's the perfect revenge?" Dutta queried;
"What happened to the good old keying his car, throwing his clothes out, breaking his favourite watch?"
"Too common. Not enough high class in them." Roop mocked and laughed somewhat.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"What?"
"About this, about you about everything." Dutta gestured.
"When were you ever around?" Roops rationalised.
"That's unfair Roops, you said yourself you found out about dad when you were fourteen, I was still at home. You should have come to me."
"And then what? What did you expect the outcome would be?" She rhetorically questioned him:
"All that would have happened was that you would have moved out sooner. See to me that didn't seem like a better option." Roops told him.
"I really did screw up when it came to you didn't I?" Dutta's eyes were now moist.
"Kinda." Roops whispered back, her own eyes filling with tears.
"You know, I want to make it up. All of it. I want to be there, when the baby comes, I want to be there for all the times. The highs and the lows."
He now faced her completely and said:
"I want to be your bhau."
"I've waited my whole life for you to say that."
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Roops hugged her brother once again before she turned to walk inside. She took a few steps before she suddenly stopped, as though she'd remembered something.
"She's really pretty by the way," Roops now smiled broadly;
"You make a great couple," Dutta faintly smiled back at her, Roops had not been there when Dutta introduced his wife to his parents, but clearly she had met her somewhere, he wasn't surprised considering how large this wedding was, they could easily have met in the bathroom;
Roops was still talking;
"...and she has the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen!"
And with that Roops practically skipped up the stairs and headed for the conservatory. Dutta hadn't been paying much attention by this point, when he suddenly stopped and recalled what Roops had just said:
"A doctor too? Seriously how did you get so lucky? She was really sweet to me, so caring and honestly for once I did not feel patronised as she spoke to me. Tai's great, but sometimes I feel so smothered. But she, she was lovely. And she has the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen!"
"Rosie." Dutta uttered.
"Rosie" He said a little louder as the realisation hit.
Being unable to contain his utter glee, Dutta began running looking for his Rosie;
She's here!'
He rejoiced as he sped past what was shaping up to be one of the worst proposals in history.
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Date: 8th June 2014
Time: 7.24 p.m
Place: Le Petite Plateu cafe, near the Love Lock Bridge, Paris.
Mood: Let it go.
They had been sat there for ten minutes now, as he shoo'ed off the third waiter who looked rather affronted at them for occupying a table but not ordering.
"Tilt your head back, and pinch the bridge," Nakusha impassively instructed him.
He did as she said, while adding slightly muffled;
"I thought you said it wasn't broken?" He tried to look at her expression; she looked somewhat detached and bored, as though she wanted to be elsewhere.
Nakusha was irritated. This was the last place she wanted to be.
Actually wait, no scratch that, she had hoped to drink a latte here but with someone else in mind and not the guy she had literally said hasta la vista' to, two days ago at their wedding nonetheless.
Of course him turning up and then demanding to talk to her had not gone down to well. A lot of cursing, cussing, scene-making and a bloody nose later, she was now sat here with him, while Dutta had sulked off back to the hotel. At first Nakusha would have been a little concerned, but after the day they had just spent together, she knew he was not going to walk out of her life.
Again.
No way.
-----------------------------------------
An hour ago
"Oh no."
"Oh yes." He said, watching her coldly.
"So, are you going to talk now? Or jet off elsewhere?" He sarcastically spoke.
"What are you doing here?" Nakusha finally managed.
She dare not even look at Dutta, who she could sense was giving off a lot of heat.
"Honeymooning!" He replied back, before adding harshly, edging closer to her:
"Seriously! WHAT THE HELL, Nakusha..."
Nakusha noticed Dutta step forward as though he was shielding her, yet the Grade-A Arse wipe before her, seemed not to notice as he continued to hiss;
"You don't just walk out of our wedding and then come gallivanting to Paris. Do you know what the receptionist told me when I rang earlier? Hmm?" His voice now grew angrier.
"Hey, don't talk to her like that."
That was when he finally noticed, that Nakusha was not alone.
At first he merely gaped at Dutta, noting his face, his clothes and then finally his posture. That's when Nakusha saw his face twist, as though he tasted his own bile;
"And who the hell are you?" he spat.
"I'm the hell that is going to get helluva lot painful if you keep talking to her like that." Dutta spoke back.
Calmly.
A little too calmly, as Naksuha felt a shiver run down her back.
Dutta was not facing her, but Naksuha knew that his eyes must have been very black now, he was seething, and any minute now his internal volcano would erupt.
He stood staring at Dutta, before a sly grin appeared on his mouth, twisting his face further he finally spoke:
"Oh, I get it now." He looked at Nakusha, and for the first time Nakusha saw hatred in his eyes.
"Of course, it all makes sense. Mr and Mrs Patil." He spoke, as though he was connecting the dots in his head.
Dutta looked confused, but Nakusha knew where his chain of thought was headed, and internally prayed that he would stop right there and not say anything further, especially since Dutta was already proving quite the challenge when it came to a certain aspect of his life. Especially now when Nakusha was more than determined to figure out what was going on and what he had meant when he said:
She's not in my life anymore.'
"I should have known," he carried on scoffing somewhat at his own stupidity;
"Why, else the huge scene?! What did you think? You'll walk out, leaving everyone dazed; I'd be so preoccupied apologising to my guests that I'd forget everything and you'll have a blast on my money in Paris?"
"Your money?" Nakusha finally spoke.
"I paid for my half." She said through gritted teeth.
There may have been many things, many derogatory things that he was now hinting towards, but Nakusha never was, nor ever would be a gold digger.
"That's kinda beside the point!" He replied back bitterly.
"How long as this been going on?" He spat, gesturing towards both Dutta and Nakusha.
She then saw it.
Dutta had caught onto what he'd been referring to and instinctively Dutta stepped back, as though he was removing himself from the middle. His body had somewhat sunk.
Unsure as to where to look, Dutta ran a hand through his hair, as he often saw Baji do, and that's when he saw it:
"You're married?" He bellowed.
"Bloody well perfect" he condemned
Dutta looked at him hard, before realising that he had seen his ring.
Having spoken to Dutta, he now looked at Nakusha and judged her:
"How could you? He's freakin' married." He spoke, before adding;
"You both deserve each other. The cheater and the skank..."
He'd barely gotten out his words, before it all happened. Dutta swung hard and straight for his nose, before Nakusha even knew what was happening, he was holding his face, as blood poured profusely, Dutta was now an inch away from him, crouching to his level he spoke in a sharp dangerous whisper;
"Say whatever the hell you want about me, but she is completely innocent."
A crowd was now forming around them, sensing the building tension, Nakusha swiftly moved towards them, standing between them (rather comically as she was nearly a foot shorter than the pair of them) as a wall she spoke speedily;
"Stop it, the pair of you. You..." She pointed to the jerk;
"Tilt your head, move your hands, let me see:"
He did as she instructed:
"It's not broken, pinch the bridge it'll stop the bleeding."
"You," She now turned towards Dutta:
"Go back to the hotel..."
"But.." He began;
"I'll meet you there!" Nakusha warned him.
Dutta was about to protest but noting how dark Nakusha's usually bright eyes had now turned, he thought it best to remain silent; instead swearing at the jerk; he turned and sulked off towards the direction of the hotel.
"You want to talk? Fine. Come on." She spoke angrier than she had even realised she was herself, as she gestured for the jerk to follow her.
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"How long have you and him..."
But whatever he was about to say got cut off, as Nakusha raised her hand to silence him and spoke matter of fact-ly.
"First things first, you don't know anything about anything. So shut your mouth and listen. And listen hard." Nakusha began:
"There is a he and an I, but no there is no we. Second, he is married. We are not cheating on anyone."
She could see it in his eyes, he had a million questions like: Who is he? How do you know him? How long have you known him? Why is he in Paris? And the list went on, but Nakusha was in no mood to entertain any of these questions.
"That is all I want to say about him." She warned him.
He saw the way she spoke, it was different. In all the time he had known her, she always seemed so passive. They talked, but never really said anything. Heck he was uncertain if he'd ever seen any emotion emanate from her before.
She exhaled sharply;
"Look, for what it's worth I am sorry for making a public spectre of the whole thing." She admitted.
"But, I am not sorry for walking out on you. If anything, other than medicine that is probably the best decision I have ever made in my entire life."
She was abrupt, so direct and unapologetic; he'd never seen this side of her.
"So you're not sorry?"
"For leaving you? No. For making a show? Yes." She clarified.
He sat back. His nose had now stopped bleeding, but it looked bloody well awful.
"Why did you do it then?" He asked, trying to read her, but finding that there was no point. He wouldn't be able to gather anything from her.
"Do what?"
"Make a show of things."
She inhaled sharply as though she was trying her best to find the most suitable response;
"I snapped." She said.
He waited. Surely there was more to it.
But Nakusha did not elaborate. He had wanted to ask her what made her snap, but she had that expression on her face again and her eyes were darker than usual. So instead he asked her:
"Why come to Paris then?"
"Why not? I booked the holidays off work, so it was either returning home and staring at the walls or flying first class and munching on croissants." She nonchalantly told him.
He then wanted to laugh. (Given the circumstances however, he didn't.) Indeed she was witty. Was this something new? It'd had never come across during their time together. Heck, now that he thought about it, what did they actually talk about?
"Why?" He asked,
Nakusha looked at him, but didn't respond.
Honestly he himself didn't know what he had meant by that question. It just seemed to come out of his mouth. Of course when he'd flown out, he was furious. He was angry with her for walking out, for leaving him to clear up the mess. For embarrassing him. But now, now that he sat here before her and seemingly demanded answers, he didn't even know what questions to ask. If anything, he wasn't even sure why he had come.
Neither spoke for a while before he finally said;
"It wasn't going to work was it?"
Nakusha blinked, sure it had sounded like his voice and yes his mouth had moved, but Nakusha was sure she had never heard him sound like that before. His voice was almost defeated. As though he'd quietly come to some resolution.
"I should have known when you first resisted in getting back together." He carried on, as though he was thinking out loud.
"But then, I proposed and you said yes, and we were going to get married. Some wedding huh?" He laughed uncertainly while Nakusha continued to watch him.
Before she even realised what she was doing she said it:
"Why did you want me back?"
"Huh?"
"After breaking up, why the flowers, the accidental' meetings, the wedding invite? Why? You seemed on board with the break up."
"I was."
"What?"
That was not the answer she had expected.
"Honestly, don't get me wrong, it was sad that we broke up after so many years together, but you were right. We were not making sense anymore. We led separate lives." He admitted.
Nakusha knew her mouth was still open in shock when she asked,
"SO why the 360 then? Why did you decide to get me back?"
He looked sheepish. Up until now he'd been looking at her, but now he seemed to be avoiding her gaze.
And suddenly it all made sense to Nakusha;
"No, please don't tell me..." Nakusha trailed off.
She felt annoyed again, but this time mostly at herself for not having seen it.
He had merely nodded looking somewhat embarrassed. He knew she worked it out. She was smart. And he?
Well he was predictable.
"So I was supposed to be just another trophy to you huh?" She finally spoke,
"And your wounded pride could not take a defeat." She added.
"Don't put it like that,"
"Why not? When that's exactly what it was." Her tone was harsh now. Of course she was angry at him, more than she had even realised herself.
After all she had invested six years (give or take) in this relationship.
No.
She had wasted six years of her life in this so called relationship.
After a really long time he spoke;
"Nakusha, I'm sorry."
He meant it. Nakusha knew he meant it, which is why she then said:
"I figured, walking out on you, the wedding was a better option than an inevitable messy divorce."
They had decided on a pre-nup. Mostly because his mother insisted it so (to protect her assets nonetheless) but partly because, Nakusha was not stupid. He was wealthy. Of course he made most of his money himself, through hard work, but he was well off and that meant people talked.
It didn't matter that Nakusha too was doing fine, more than fine when it came to work and money-she was after all a very well paid doctor at one of the top neurology hospitals in England-nope none of that mattered. All that people saw was how this girl of no family had bagged the rich bloke. Nakusha couldn't shut their mouths individually, but the pre-nup was a sure fast way of showing them just what she thought about his wealth.
"Where did it all go wrong?" He asked.
"When was it ever right?"
He stared at her, watching her closely, and Nakusha was certain this was the first time since they had known each other that he actually saw her. This was the first time that they actually talked.
This alone spoke volumes.
"I am sorry." He finally managed.
"Me too." Nakusha concurred.
And they genuinely were.
When they first started dating, they should have recognised the tell tale signs. Yes they went on dates, yes it was pleasurable to begin with at least, but they never fit. Nakusha always felt like a square peg around him, while he was the ill fitting jigsaw piece. The fact that their social circles were so far removed from one another should have been their second clue. But the career orientated people that they were; they failed to recognise that as a problem.
Yet that was just the beginning, there were many other things. In fact, to date Nakusha could not think of one thing they had in common: except maybe the hospital, but then again that was pushing it. He didn't actually work there, any cases he represented on his behalf during the hospital mediations was pro bono work, something he could easily do elsewhere.
"SO what now?" he inquired.
"We live our lives." She told him, smiling somewhat at the peace she felt now.
"You know mum was right about you." He suddenly spoke.
"What?"
But he didn't answer her question instead, he got up from his seat, edging awkwardly closer to her, he hugged her,
"Friends?"
Nakusha who had hugged him back, spoke:
"I don't think so, but at least we don't hate each other?"
"Deal." He smirked and then suggested:
"I dunno maybe someday in the future I'll invite you to my wedding, and you can bring a plus one."
He tried to keep a straight face,
"Yeah and hopefully my plus one won't tactlessly propose to me there, like a complete Jerk wart."
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*Till next time ;)*
