JeeYa OS: Kabhi Nahi? Kabhi Nahi.

“Kab tak---”, asked Saumya, her voice was unheard over the noise that surrounded them but for once Saumya did not let her voice faze and fizzle like she did every time. She raised it, to be heard over the bitching and moaning of the people who have made him suffer, uncaring that her own father was one of them, she asked again, her voice raised and her back straight, “Kab tak aap log yeh sab karte rahenge?”

She deliberately did not look at him. She tried not to look at his face. She could not bring herself to look at him when she’d finally mustered up her courage after everything had already been said, after he’d already been hurt.

Saumya did not know when she learned to read his face. Somewhere between her forcing him to accept her Kasams and him forcing her to carry out his Ultimatums, she’d learned to understand some of what he was thinking by hiding what he was feeling.

And she’d read the hurt in his eyes, which were now covered by his shades, she’d seen the gulp of his throat, swallowing words he left unsaid, she’d seen his expressions, hiding what he really felt, she’d read his body, unsure where to proceed after what’s been said.

The pin drop silence at the sound of her voice was enough to scare her into silence once again, but she couldn’t. She shouldn’t.

He’s done so much, for her, for her family, for his family too, but no one ever sees it. No one ever sees the good he does, because God-forbid a “Gunda-Mawali” does something for the good of anyone. All anyone ever does is blame him and degrade him and hate him.

She would not.

She could never hate him.

So, she gathered her courage and spoke once again, her voice timid, but being heard because she never spoke, “Aap sab log kab tak apni galtiyon ka kaaran Jeet Sir ko batate rahenge?”

It was his aunt that spoke up, “Lo bhai, aa gayi iski nayi wakeel. Saumya, tumhe galat fahmi ho gayi hai. Jeet waisa nahi hai jaisa tum sochti ho.”

She snorted and retorted, “Toh aap sab log waise hai jaisa hum sochte hai?”

His father, the man that always took the lead to hurt him, spoke again, “Saumya beta, baat ko samjho. Hum sab logon ko tumhari hi chinta hai, ki yeh---”

But she interrupted him before he could finish, “Aap logon ko meri chinta hai. Waah!”, a laugh escaped her, without an inch of humour, and continued, “Uncle, tab kaha thi aapki chinta jab aap hi ke college mein aap hi ke niyukt vidyapak mujh par apna haath daalne ki koshish kar rahe the. Yaa fir tab kaha thi aapki chinta jab sab log jaante the ki Shaurya college mein mujhe kiss tarah se pareshaan kar raha hai.”

She watched as Sanjeev Saxena took a step towards her to console her, but she backed a step away from, “Mein batau aapki chinta kaha thi? Inn sab baaton ko Jeet Sir ke suspension ke liye kaise use kiya jaa sakta hai, aap log ki chinta yaha thi.”

She took a deep breath, before she continued, “Jeet Sir ne mujhe Shaurya se aur uss professor se, dono se bachaya. Tab aapko nahi thi chinta, sirf Jeet Sir ko thi. Woh toh bina mere kuch kahe hi maan gaye, iss baat ko kabhi bahar naa laane ke liye, jabki woh khud suspend ho sakte the. Toh meri wastavik chinta toh sirf Jeet Sir ko thi naa.”

The shock on their faces at her defence of him was worth the courage it had taken to speak up for him. However, she knew the battle was just starting. It was her and she was faced with most of the adults she knew and cared for in her life.

For him, she would fight the world.

Like he had for her.

Her father, who did not speak to her anymore, came between her and his father, furious at her, “Saumya, bus karo. Yeh, iss Jeet ki tarafdaari karna band karo.”

She was heartbroken at what her father was saying. She really was. After all the effort she put in to not hurt him and not tell him the truth, and after finally finding the courage to tell him the truth, and patiently waiting for him to get over his guilt and disappointment, and hoping for his support for her as a person and not as this idol of respect and honour, her father was asking her to give up on the one person who gave her everything, everything she had expected from her father, without her asking for it even once from him.

She looked away, she had long since been unable to fight her father, but she wanted to, now, for him. She took a deep breath, “Papa, aap toh jaante hai naa inhone mere liye kya kiya hai?”

Just as always, as soon as she started to talk about the chapter of her life that had ended up defining her, her mother found her, holding her arm, asking her to not talk. For once in her life, Saumya did not pay her mother any mind and continued to look at her father, his expression shattered.

She trembled, for she did not mean to hurt her father, but her father kept hurting him. And she could not see him get hurt anymore.

She took a deep breath, “Joh understanding, joh support, joh bharosa mujhe aapse milna chahiye tha, who mujhe unhone diya hai. Jab bhi mein ladkhadai hun, jab bhi mein ruki hun, giri hun, thaki hun, dari hun, andar se mar rahi hun, unhone mujhe bacha liya hai.”

She would’ve continued had she not heard him call out to her. She turned at his address of her, his “Junior”, a call out she would probably answer in her dreams also. She turned to look at him, and he was clearly asking her to stop this. He was asking her to stop defending him because her defending him was nonsensical. They knew each other’s cues, non-verbal ones too. She understood that he was calling her stupid for whatever she was doing. She knew he was asking her to stop this.

She did not want to listen to him. She did not want to stop defending him. She wanted to tear everyone into pieces for hurting him.

But he’d always listened to her when she’s asked him to back away to avoid making a situation worse, so how could she not listen to him when he was asking the same of her.

She sighed. She would have to stop. He’s decided to make her stop. He’s always respected her by listening to her when she asked him to do something, even going so far as to not do something if she didn’t want him to do it. She has to respect his choices too.

They may think different, they may be totally different as people and they may live their lives differently, but one thing he’s never done is try and change her life. He may have encouraged her to change her life herself, but never once has he forced a decision he’s made for her upon her.

Only his infamous ultimatums.

She could not, for the life of her, defy him.

She took a deep breath, stopping herself from arguing any further.

And she wouldn’t have, had it not been Neeta Saxena, the woman who spewed poison at him without any reason, asking, “Aisa kya kar liya hai Saumya, tumhare iss Jeet Sir ne tumhaare liye, joh hum sab ke saamne tum khadi ho gayi ho? Isse defend karne ke liye? Aisa kaunsa saath nibhaaya hai isne tumhara joh mere bete Hridhaan ne nahi nibhaaya hai. Yaa fir Paankhi ne. Tum apne asli friends ke support ko bhool gayi, aur iss gunde, iss Jeet ke support ki wajah se humse ladh rahi ho.”

The thing about Saumya was that she was really bad at speaking up for herself. She has turned into every bit of the names people call her for her behaviour. She has turned into every bit of the person she has hated all these years.

Another thing about Saumya was that she was really good at speaking up for other people who are being wronged. She is every bit of the protector she always was when it comes to other people. She has every bit of her confidence when it came to defending other people.

The real conundrum was in front of her.

She would be speaking up for herself, if she answered that question. However, the one who would be praised, who would be understood, who would be defended, would be him.

Her Jeet Sir.

By speaking up for herself, she would not go against him, she would still respect his decision of her not defending him against all these people, and she would still end up defending him to all these people. And that was what she wanted.

Most of all.

So, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable, speak up her truth, to these people who had a member in their family that would have gone through what she and her family went through, had it not been him defending her, protecting her, standing up for her, fighting for her, going to prison for her, and still stand by and let people beat him up for her.

She sighed, she finally released the courage within her, making her mother let go of her arm. Just as she was about to speak up, when Hridhaan of all people, interrupted her before she could even begin to speak up.

“Mom---”, Hridhaan stood in front of her, facing his mother, “---please. Stop this. Joh ho gaya hai, usse badawa dene ki koi zaroorat nahi hai.”

Suddenly, he too, was in front ofher, his back faced her, he stood beside Hridhaan, and exclaimed, “Wohi. Aapka karyakaram, Jeet ko Sunao, Jeet ko Bhagao, agar pura ho gaya hai toh apne apne ghar ki taraf prasthan kare.”

He looked behind, straight into her eyes, his gaze flashing in warning, a quiet anger within them, at her. She was incredulous. It was her truth. It was her fight. It was her decision who she wanted to tell.

But then she saw his eyes flash behind her and she turned. One look at her father was enough to make her understand why he had chosen to do this.

Saumya wasn’t deaf. She had heard how her father and uncle fought daily over her Izzat and Charitra and how he, her Jeet Sir, could be someone to throw it away and stain in irrevocably. She’s heard all the discussions and she’s seen all the hurt he’s felt when he’s heard all these discussions.

And the thing was, for the longest time, Saumya has considered her happiness to be linked to the happiness of her family, mainly her father. If her father was happy, she was supposed to be happy. If her mother was asking her to stay quiet to protect her honour, then she was supposed to stay quiet. If they wanted to marry her off to someone, not because she wanted to marry someone, but because what her uncle had done was a stain on her life and they just wanted to hide that stain away, then she was supposed to be willingly married off. If they wanted to hide away her trauma and damage her mental health for her entire life just so that her Izzat and Charitra remain honourable and stainless, she was supposed to dwell in that trauma for her lifetime.

It had taken her long time to realise that her family was not always right. That they had flaws. That for all her father hated her uncle for what he did to her, he still listened to his bullshit. For all her mother hated her uncle for what he did to her, she still forced her to stay with him in one house for all these years.

She shuddered thinking of what-ifs for most of her life.

What if it was her father who discovered what had happened to her all that time ago?

What if her brother was sensible enough to understand her disgust of her uncle?

What if her mother had told her father then?

What if they had separated from her uncle then and there?

What if she had learned early on that it was not her fault at all?

All these what-ifs.

And then, her what-ifs changed.

What if she had met Jeet Sir then?

What if he’d figured out then?

What if he’d fought for and protected her then?

What if he’d met her before anything had actually happened?

What if they met and they were just a normal girl and a normal boy and they did not have any trauma and any anxiety in their life?

What if she hadn’t suffered and what if he had a normal family and they had met without all the baggage they carried?

Would her father still restrict her to meet him?

Would she listen to her father if he did?

Would he still feel that loneliness was the solution to all his problems?

Would he still run away from whatever she knew they both felt?

All these what-ifs that changed, all because of him.

And she couldn’t even defend him?

She challenged her father then and there, with her gaze determined, she moved, to stand in front of them.

He still avoided her, turning away from her, never intentionally touching her, never letting himself be the one to hurt her.

How could she not see the good in him? Moreover, how could people not see how good he was? How could they look at all his hardness and deny the softness that leaked out of him?

She turned away from him when he finally looked away from her. He amused her. Here she was, about to speak the biggest secret of her life, just in a bid to defend him, and he couldn’t even look at her.

She chuckled, looked at most of the Saxena’s in front of her, and began, “Aap jaan na chahte hai Jeet Sir ne mere liye kya kiya hai? Mujhe kaise support kiya hai? Toh---”

“Junior!”, he was in front of her, again, shaking his head, pleading her, asking her, to not say anything. Assuring her that she did not need to do this. That this was not her battle, her fight.

She just smiled, and moved away to face the people who hated him once again, “Aap sab log ko yaad hoga, ke Jeet Sir ne Mata ke Jagrate mein Sangeet Samrat, Shri Roop Kumar Mathur par kya inzaam lagaye the?”

Hridhaan’s aunt moved forward, answering her question, “Haan, yaad hai. Meri Pihu ke naam par tumhare iss Jeet Sir ne na jaane kaise kaise inzaam lagaye the tumhare Tauji par.”

Her father was the one that grabbed her arm this time, asking her to stop this nonsense. She chuckled, finding his hand and making him let go of her without looking at him.

She was determined, “Woh sab sach tha.”

A thunder could’ve cracked and none of them would’ve reacted, such was the shock from everyone. She shook, beneath everyone’s gazes, she trembled and continued, “Uss din mere Tauji, Sangeet Samrat, Adarniya Shri Roop Kumar Mathur, Pihu ko humare ghar ke raaste ke bahane wahi karne le jaa rahe the jiska ilzaam Jeet Sir ne unpe lagaya tha.”

She dissolved into laughter then. She finally understood that the truth really will set you free. She felt the tears escape her eyes, and she cackled, “Aur, aur aap sab ko pata hai ki mujhe yeh sab kaise pata hai?”

She moved again, in front of Pihu’s mother, “Mein thi wahan pe. Mein thi wahan pe, aur meine rok liya Pihu ko. Bhej diya usko waapas apne ghar. Bhej diya.”

She moved to Pihu’s aunt, Hridhaan’s mother, who had the audacity to ask her why she wanted to defend her Jeet Sir, and she jibed, “Meine unhe rok liya. Kaha unse. Pihu ko dusri Saumya nahi banne dungi mein.”

Saumya felt free, she really did. She did not know whether it was because she was laughing after a long time, or it was because she had managed to find her voice. Or maybe, maybe it was because she was finally fighting for him.

By fighting for herself.

It felt cathartic.

She looked at him, his back still faced the family he never got to have. She giggled, her restraint shot to hell, “Mujhe toh yeh samajh nahi aata ki joh baat meine itne saalon se chupa ke rakhi thi---“, she hugged herself, “---aise apne andar daba ke rakhi thi, woh inhe pata kaise chal gayi.”

She turned to her best friend, “Hridhaan ko bhi nahi pata chala---” and her other best friend, “Paankhi ko bhi nahi pata chala?”

She looked at the family she’s known since forever, “Aapko kaise nahi pata chala Neeta Ma’am? Aap toh khud ek teacher hai?”

She looked at his back once again, before continuing, blaming his father too, for being so blind, “Aap toh Jeet Sir ke papa hai na. Itne bade college ke Dean hai. Unko do din mein samajh aa gaya tha, aur aapko itne saalon mein pata nahi chala?”

She scoffed, “Shayad isiliye Jeet Sir ko samajh aagaya. Aap toh the hi nahi naa inki life mein. Inho ne sab kuch apni Maa aur Nani se seekha hai.”

It was Pihu’s mother that came onto her this time, not a woman, not a relative, just Pihu’s mother, who came and held her arms and shook her, rattled her, “Kya matlab tumhara ke woh sab sachtha? Kya matlab tumhara ke Pihu dusri Saumya nahi banegi? Kya kiya tumhare uss Tauji ne meri Pihu ke saath? Saumya!”

She laughed in her face, throwing the hands off her arms and looking away from Pihu’s mother to her own mother, and bawled her eyes out, “Yeh reaction hona chahiye tha meri Maa ka bhi. Yahi cheekh ka intezaar tha mujhe meri Maa se bhi. Issi gusse ki talash thi mujhe meri Maa ke aakhon mein. But mujhe mila kya? Sirf chuppi.”

She looked at Pihu’s mother and answered with questions of her own, “Aapne dekha nahi tha, jab Pihu pehli baar humare ghar aayi thi, sangeet sikhne? Aapne samjha nahi tha, jab mein har baar Pihu aur Tauji ke saamne hi rehti thi, unpe nazar rakhe hue? Aapko realise nahi hua, jab Jeet Sir ki dhamki ke kaaran Tauji ne sangeet sikhana band kar diya?”

She ridiculed everyone once again, “Aap sab logon ke aakhon par naa jaane kaunsi patti padi hui hai. Aapko kabhi samajh nahi aaya ki Jeet Sir aaj nahi hote toh mein abhi tak uss insaan ki naa insaafiyan jhel rahi hoti. Arrey unke hote hue bhi kuch nahi badla hai. Woh abhi bhi humare parivaar ke saath naa insaafiyan kar rahe hai aur hum kuch bhi nahi kar paa rahe hai.”

Her father once again came to stop her, but Saumya was on a roll. She shivered at her father’s touch, and laughed at herself, derisively.

She looked into her father’s eyes and flinched away from him.

“Saumya ki izzat,” she whispered as she stared at her feet, “Saumya ka charitra, Saumya ka yeh, Saumya ka woh, sab kharaab ho raha hai, kyun? Kyunki woh Jeet ke idhar udhar mandarati rehti hai. Kyunki who Jeet jaise Gunde Mawali ke saath baat karti hai. Kyunki usse Jeet jaise ladke ki tarafdari karni hai.”

She looked up into her father’s eyes, “Saumya ki izzat pe uske Tauji ne haath daala hai. Saumya ka charitra uske Tauji ne kharaab kiya hai. Saumya Jeet Sir ke idhar udhar isiliye mandarati hai kyunki woh usse mahfoos mahsoos karwaate hai. Saumya Jeet Sir se isiliye baat karti hai kyunki woh unki baat sunte hai, samajhte hai. Saumya Jeet Sir ki tarafdari isiliye karti hai kyunki woh unki baat sunti hai, samjhti hai.”

She sighed, defeated, “Papa, aapne sach jaan ne ke baad kya kiya? Meri shaadi ki baat? Kyun kiya? Aapko Tauji ne kaha ke mujhe Jeet Sir se khatra hai? Aur aap maan gaye? Kaise? Kaise maan gaye aap?”

She pointed at where he stood, “Aap bas maan gaye ke jis insaan, Papa ladka nahi, insaan. Jis insaan ko meine apni zindagi ka itna bada sach aise hi bata diya, usse, usse? Mujhe khatra hai? Jis insaan ko sach pata chalne par usne Tauji ke khilaaf koi action nahi liya, balki mere kehne par woh chup rahe, unse mujhe khatra hai? Jis insaan ne Pihu ke liye, mere liye, unse ladh gaye, usse mujhe khatra hai? Jis insaan ne mujhe aapko batane ke liye himmat di, kaha ke tumhare Papa tumse bahut pyaar karte hai, woh maan jaayenge Saumya, unhe bata do, unse mujhe khatra hai? Joh insaan apne ghar mein humein jagah dene ke liye tayaar tha, taaki mein uss darinde se dur reh sakoon, usse mujhe khatra hai? Joh insaan meri shaadi ke profile ke liye meri photos le, mujhse actually puche ki mein shaadi apni marzi se kar rahi hun ke samajh ke dar se, usse mujhe khatra hai? Arrey jis insaan ne mujhe aaj tak chua tak nahi hai, usse mujhe khatra hai?”

She chuckled, amused, “Papa, iss duniya mein agar koi aisa ladka hai jisse mujhe khatra nahi hai, toh woh sirf Jeet Sir hai.”

Krish was the one to move forward, hold her shoulders and let her lean on him. He knew the toll it took on her to speak her truth. To speak, period. He’d always known how she was, who she was, until he didn’t. Until she didn’t let him know. Until she shut herself off from her world, the whole world.

She sobbed, hugging her brother, letting herself fall.

She never would’ve thought that she would’ve have to gather her courage to tell people again and again. She never would’ve thought how it became easier the second time. How it would probably be easier the next. It would never be easy to tell, but it would be easier to muster her courage.

She wouldn’t have to fight herself in the future because she would’ve found her courage by then.

All because of him.

Her Jeet Sir.

She heard a low laugh then, and turned her head to look.

His father was smirking, she could feel the derisiveness roll out of him, and she felt a chill in her spine when she heard what he said, “Toh yeh hai tumhara plan?”

She looked at him, still confused, but her gut knew that this man was about to hurt her for defending his son. She could see him looking at his father, a clear anticipation on his face. She was more worried for him than herself.

“Yahi karti ho tum,” his father began, “yeh man garhand kahaaniyan suna kar mere beton ko fasaa rahi ho tum.”

She felt joy, immense joy, before it turned into dread.

The joy of his father acknowledging him as his son was drowned with dread with what his father was blaming her for. She looked at him in disbelief, watching as Hridhaan and his mother went to stop his father. She could feel the outrage that was sparking from him as he stood beside her.

Like always.

Even against his own father.

Who had just acknowledged him as his son.

She turned to look at him only to realise that he wasn’t looking at her. No, he was glaring, at his father. He was furious, it was radiating from him, he warned his father, without so much as a glance in her direction, “BapuJi. Mera gussa meri Junior pe mat nikaliye.”

His father snarled, “Toh kya aise hi iss ladki ki baton ko sach maan le. Kya pata tumhari tarafdari karne ke chakkar mein yeh ek izzatdaar insaan par kaise kaise inzaam laga rahi hai.”

He continued glaring at his father, his disbelief evident, when Hridhaan spoke, “Papa, aapko realise bhi ho raha hai aap kya keh rahe hai?”

His father scoffed, “Beta tum jaante nahi ho. Aisi ladkiyon ke liye yeh sab karna koi badi baat nahi hai. Yeh izzatdaar logon ka mohola hai. RoopJi ki iss samajh mein joh izzat hai, tumhe lagta hai woh aisa kuch kar sakte hai. Agar aisa kuch hota RoopJi ke baare mein, toh humhe pata hota.”

She laughed at his stupidity. She was hurt, that someone could think of her like this, but she had grown immune to the hurt she felt. She lived in the same house with her abuser. She heard him say things like these and far worse every single day. She knew the only reason her family did not get her uncle arrested and left the house was because they thought the world would blame her for her uncle’s abuse of her.

The hurt inside her was a throbbing ache now, something she has learned to live with.

She looked at his father, and smiled, “Aap izzatdaar hone ki baat kar rahe hai? Aap? Jisne apni hi secretary ke saath affair kiya. Unke saath ek bacha bhi paida kiya. Uss bache ko unke haal pe chodke apne family ke pass sirf paison ke liye waapas aa gaye? Aap?”

Saumya realised that she had spoken too much when Sanjeev Saxena moved towards her with a hand raised to slap her. She closed her eyes, braced for impact, but the slap never came.

A silence unlike the other ones filled the atmosphere. She could feel the buzz in the air, vibrating with a frequency that always filled her with safety. The one she felt whenever he was near her. The one she felt when she was near him.

She looked up at him, her Jeet Sir, his back faced her as he held his father’s hand, in front of her, saving her, even if the one who was hurting her mattered to him.

He was always by her side, it never mattered who she was up against.

She vowed, then and there, that she would also be always by his side, no matter whoever they were up against. His family. Her family. The world. The universe, if needed. She never would leave his side.

“Hridhaan---”, he said, “Apne Papa ko samjha do, Saumya ke khilaaf ek shabd aur nahi kahe. Warna mujhse bura koi nahi hoga.”

She peeked at his father from behind him, and the victory she felt, the feeling of accomplishment she felt, at him defending her from his own father, him proving why she was defending him, him showing why he deserved to be defended, was a feeling she had never felt before.

His father grabbed his hand away, but before he could say another word, her father and brother too stood by him, her Jeet Sir. She looked up at them, a giddiness spreading within her at seeing the three men who mattered the most to her stand up for her.

It was the best of times, she never thought she would see the day. It only took her going apeshit crazy in defence of the guy she may be felt more than she had allowed herself to feel for any guy.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ek baat puchun?” she asked, after they had left the Saxena’s standing in the dust outside their home. They were now standing at the terrace of his home, having run into each other as they were on their phone. He stayed away from her, an izzatdaar enough distance between them.

He glanced at her before looking up at the moon as he nodded.

She smiled, “Aap ko yaad hai meine kaha tha, mein shaadi isiliye karna chahti hun kyunki baarishon mein chaata pakadne ke liye saathi hona acha lagta hai?”

He looked at her, this time his gaze stayed on her as he nodded.

She looked away, to the moon, “Aur aapne kaha tha aap apna chaata khud pakadne mein yakeen karte hai?”

She glanced at him, his eyes still on her, and he nodded again.

She turned to look at him, “Mujhe lagta hai ki baarishon mein aap kai baar apna chaata bhool jaate hai. Isiliye aapko saathi ki zaroorat chaata pakadne ke liye nahi, bas yaad karane ke liye chahiye.”

He smirked, her analogy making him realise the significance of the events today. What she had done, speaking her truth to defend him, was equivalent to her reminding him that he needs to fight for himself against the baseless acquisitions he faces on a daily basis. That just by leaning into his bad guy image, he was letting the rain fall on him. That just because he was ready to let the rain fall on him, doesn’t mean she would just let it fall on him. Not now. Not when he had been the one to not let the rain fall on her.

“Junior---”, his voice brought her out of her thoughts, she looked up at him only to see that he was leaning down at her eye level, “---aaj kal bada bol leti ho. Pehle toh chu tak nahi nikalti thi tumhari zubaan se.”

She smiled, “Kissi naa kaha tha mujhe, ke apne andar ka acid bahar nikalo. Toh wohi kar rahi hun Sir.”

He smirked, her eyes finding his lips before she found his gaze again, “Yeh acid bahut meetha nahi hai?”

She looked away, lest her gaze wandered to unchartered territories again, “Kuch logon ko sharbat bhi kadwa lagta hai, waise hi aapke liye mera acid bhi meetha hai.”

“Mere liye?”, he asked,astonished.

She nodded, looking at him again, “Sirf aap ke liye.”

He smiled and looked away to the moon again, but she let her gaze wander. He was handsome. From his boyish hair to his stubborn head, to his beautiful eyes, to his sturdy nose, to his soft lips, to his bearded jaw, to his stern collarbones, to his muscular arms, to his black tank top. She let her gaze wander before she came to her senses and looked away, again, before looking at his face again.

She felt that she could look at him all day, every day.

“Waise,” he began again, pulling her out of her trance, “---acha laga mujhe.”

She was confused, “Kya Sir?”

He chuckled, “Mere liye chaata laake pakadne wala saathi.”

She blushed, never having thought that he would acknowledge what she was implying all along.

Her gaze found his, “Yeh chaata aur usse laake pakadne waala saathi kabhi aapka saath nahi chodega.”

He was serious again, his eyes wet with unshed tears, something he would’ve hid behind his shades had he been with anyone else. His voice trembled as he asked, “Kabhi nahi?”

She promised, her whole heartgone on him, “Kabhi nahi.”