JeeYa OS: Just A Slap, Just A Kiss

All thanks to Reddit User ChallHutt for letting me borrow their idea. Their fic was the one that gave the inspiration to write this.

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He could not believe it.

It was her.

It was his Junior.

It was Saumya.

He had been just slapped by Saumya.

The Saumya who couldn’t even shake his hand.

The Saumya who had exploded when he had teased for being unable to hold her future husband’s hand.

The Saumya who was so far away from the normal girls when it came to touch.

And he’d been slapped.

And it wasn’t even a gentle pat. No, his Junior had gone all out. It was a tight slap. The kind of slap that forces your head to shift off centre. The kind of slap that left fingerprints on your cheek. The kind of slap that hurt.

The kind of slap that one gives someone when the one they had been hurt by was someone they considered their own.

His Junior had given him a slap, a touch, that made him reconsider all his life decisions that led him here.

This slap made him rethink every choice he had made in the past few days, choice that may have played a part in angering her enough to slap him.

He looked at her, but her eyes weren’t on him. They were on the hand with which she had slapped him. She was clocked out, he could see that she herself did not believe that she had slapped him.

The slap was as much a shock to her as it was to him.

What.

Her gaze finally found his, and the quiet hurt, the disturbed anguish and the heartbroken misery that he had been avoiding looking at was much too obvious. All reasons, he believed, for why she slapped him.

All the reasons she should not have touched him.

He realised that he was one of the people to hurt her more than soothe her this past week. He knew that something had not been right with her this past week. Her dejectedness was visible to him this past week.

He couldn’t figure out what it was that was so upsetting to her.

Or, he could, he just didn’t want to.

He chose not to.

Because if he tried, if he tried to guess, and he found the answer, and if the answer was what he hoped it to be, then.

Then all was shot to hell.

But now she had answered him, even slapped him when he had tried to deny her claim.

All was already shot to hell.

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A Couple Hours Ago…

Saumya usually never forgot the words he spoke in front of her. His words, somewhere along the way, had become somewhat of an ultimate gospel for her. She heard when he spoke, she listened to understand him and she tried to practise what he preached.

Their dictionary may be different from one another, but she seemed to understand what he said without thinking too much of it. Her dictionary may be too complicated for him, but he usually understood what she wanted to say right away.

He even understood what she did not want to say most of the time.

For her, he was a closed book.

She rarely understood what he did not say. She could hardly read his mind. She had to wait for him to spell it out first before she could understand what he was thinking. His thought process was a mystery to her most days.

The words that were troubling her today were the words he had said to her ex-fiancé.

Dil Jeeto.

Haath Pakadhne Ka Haq Yeh Khud Degi.

Now, now she had a new fiancé.

And she could remember many other words he had spoken, because of course they were in a spiral in her head, and it was also because she rarely, if ever, forgot what he said, but the words that played in her mind now were constant mix of words she wanted to hear the most from him and words that she never wanted to hear from him again.

The only problem was she couldn’t figure out which words she wanted to hear the most.

“I Love You, Saumya.” her traitorous heart whispered.

“Mein Aapki Beti Se Naa Pyaar Karta Tha, Naa Karta Hun, Naa Kabhi Karunga.” her tumultuous mind argued.

And then the words she never wanted to hear from him again.

“Tumhari Kismat Itni Bhi Achi Nahi Hai Ki Tumhe Jeet Mil Jaye.” her heart played again.

“I Love You, Saumya.” her mind disagreed.

She was in a constant battle with herself.

And Hridhaan, Hridhaan was a nice guy. Her brother liked him. Her mother liked him. Her father liked him. She liked him.

She knew what the problem was.

Her brother did not want him as her husband.

Her mother was going gaga over the guy because he was the perfect guy in the eyes of society, not because he loved her.

Her father liked him because he was proper. A proper status. A proper respect. A proper name. A proper set of parents. A proper family. A proper man. Not because he was man that loved Saumya.

She had never looked at Hridhaan like that before.

She loved him. She always had.

She would also never be in love with him.

Saumya never knew what being in love really was.

She’s never been in love.

But she imagined that it was hurtful, it was painful and it was heartbreaking.

But she also imagined that it was beautiful, it was liberating and it was freeing.

She felt none of that with Hridhaan.

She had no emotions because of Hridhaan.

She had tried, oh how she tried. She knew Hridhaan was a perfect match for her in that her parents are happy with this match, in that the things they’re afraid of are solved just because a guy like Hridhaan was in love with her and wanted to marry her, in that she would never have to face society’s stigma over victims of abuse if he was by her side, in that she would never have to fight people for being in love and being married to a guy like him, in that Hridhaan was perfect on paper.

On paper.

Was love supposed to be perfect on paper?

Was love supposed to be perfect?

She believed not.

She hoped not.

Because whatever she had with Hridhaan was perfect, on paper and otherwise.

The only problem was she could not get into it.

It felt like she was missing something.

It felt like she was stood on a stage with words just out of her reach.

It felt like she was running with an end never in sight.

It felt like she was reaching for a place that did not exist.

It felt like she couldn’t reach the note just out of her pitch.

It felt like she was missing the train that was rushing past her.

It felt like she was not in love with the person she was supposed to spend her life with.

They had gone out on a date today. It was perfect. They were talking about the things they used to do together, and with Krish and Paankhi and Tanya and how those days were awesome and suddenly he would say that he had adored her in that moment and all she could think about how that moment would have been infinitely better had he been there with them.

Like the date had been perfect because he had been there.

A table away, just out of their peripheral, but tuned in with her soul.

It was a perfect date, they reminisced their first meeting, they teased their mutual friends, they rehashed the past and they were imagining their future.

Only, in this future, she wouldn’t have him in the background, keeping an eye on her, preventing her from panicking, providing her comfort and a steadfast presence that she no longer needed, but craved desperately.

Jeet Sir.

Hridhaan had not noticed him for the entirety of their date. She did not want this to be a thing she had to explain to her friend. Future husband.

He had left quietly as Hridhaan had left for the washroom after paying the check. He had tilted his head, consoled her, taken permission and left when she had nodded.

Only after he was gone did she reflect on how she would explain to her future husband, her friend, that she had not felt safe enough near him, that she had needed someone else’s presence to keep her calm through what was supposed to be their perfect first date.

Was it perfect when her mind was not on the person she was on a date with?

She had glanced at him, repeatedly, to ensure he had something other than beer. She had made sure that he had eaten something. She had made sure that he was not uncomfortable the entire time he was there. She could remember what he ordered easily.

She did not remember what Hridhaan had ordered, nor did she recall what he drank.

She did remember the nervousness within her when his hand had come close to her own before he had taken it away, mindful of her. She could remember his face after he had pulled away his hand, scared of how she would react. She could see the anger on his face, may be on being unable to hold her hand, or may be the circumstances due to which she could not accept his touch.

She would like to think that it was the second, because she knew Hridhaan, he was one of her best friends.

It was redundant however, because how could she let someone touch her until they had not won her heart.

Hridhaan was one of her best friends.

He was also her future husband.

She was on a date with him.

She was on a date with a man and she hadn’t paid one bit of attention to him and instead had been distracted by the man, who, in his own words, would never love anyone.

Who would never love Saumya.

While the fact that he didn’t want anyone in his life in the romantic way made her realise that she was not special, that his aversion is loving someone, not loving Saumya, it also made her realise that she was not special enough for him to overcome that aversion.

That the relationship they shared was utterly one sided in that she was dependent on him, on his support, on his words, on his actions, but her, her words, her actions did not matter to him.

Her needing him on a date with a guy who was a friend, who she was going to marry, and him saying yes and then walking away without a single line on his pretty little forehead was proof enough that none of this was affecting him like it was affecting.

“Tumhe bahut farq padhta hai,” her brother had said.

“Unhe nahi padhta,” she had wanted to reply.

But did it really matter that it did not matter to him.

It mattered for Saumya.

He mattered to Saumya.

And she had accepted marriage to someone else.

Taking a deep breath, waiting outside the restaurant for Hridhaan, she mustered up the courage from deep within her. She had to stop this. She could not hurt herself and her friend because her feelings were not in sync with this perfect relationship.

When she saw Hridhaan, he was walking towards her with a frown on his face.

She exhaled, he began, “Sumo---”

She interrupted, “Mein yeh shaadi nahi kar sakti.”

Time seemed to stop, then.

She could see his heart breaking, in real time, in slow motion.

Saumya felt like a shit person.

But this was necessary.

She had to put the brakes on it before she missed that train completely.

He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut.

She began explaining, hurriedly, “I’m sorry Hridhaan. Par mein tumhe ek dost se badhkar nahi dekh sakti. Meine koshish ki. Bahut koshish ki. Tumhare liye. Maa ke liye. Papa ke liye. Apne liye. Par mein nahi kar saki. Aur mein jaanti hun. Ki tum perfect ho. Ki hum perfect hai. Par mujhse nahi ho paa raha hai. Shayad, shayad mere mein hi kuch kami hai.”

He calmed her down, “Relax Sumo. Aaram se. Tum mein koi kami nahi hai. Agar tum mujhe waise nahi dekh paa rahi ho toh isme tumhari koi galti nahi hai. Aur kahin naa kahin, mujhe pata chal gaya tha ke tum mujhse shaadi nahi karna chahti.”

She paused, his words mirroring her heart.

He looked at her and chuckled bitterly, “Kaha tha meine. Bachpan ka dost hun. Chehra padhke samajh jaata hun tumhare mann ki baat. Wada bhi kiya tha. Tum kaho aur sab kuch ruk jaayega.”

He sighed, raised his hand, about to pat her on a shoulder, when he stopped at the last moment. He met her gaze and pulled his hand away. She looked down at her wrists, still adorned by the Shagun-ke-Kangan his mother had given her, sitting right beside the scrunchie he had put on her wrist.

She took them off, the Kangan, handing them to him.

She couldn’t even look at him, she knew she was the reason for his heartbreak. She couldn’t even meet her friend’s eyes, because she knew the fact that he could never be her husband was hurting him.

She turned around, walking away from him.

Walking away from a life she knew would be perfect.

Too bad she wanted a life that wasn’t.

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Jeet had left the date just before it ended.

The check was paid, his Junior was happy, Hridhaan was happy.

All was well.

He left as soon as she nodded her head, allowing him to take the breath he had been holding for a long time.

Watching them, on their perfect little date, hearing them, as they talked about people who he didn’t know, listening to them, reminiscing a time he did not know her, had unnerved him.

There was just so much he didn’t know about his Junior.

There would be so much he would never know about his Junior.

He knew all too well that Saumya marrying into his father’s family was a surefire way of cutting off any contact between him and her. She would stop needing his support when she had Hridhaan by her side. Their family would not condone her talking to the illegitimate son of their family, neither would she go out of her way to get herself into trouble by talking to him.

This was a perfect way of closing the chapter that was his Junior in his life.

A clean break.

A relationship severed by the perfect circumstances.

Friends lost touch with friends when they got married.

Saumya was not even his friend, she was just his Junior.

No hard feelings were involved.

Oh, his heart whispered, no feelings are involved.

He stomped the stand of his bike, silencing his treacherous heart.

The fact of the matter is that his Junior had been on a perfect date, a date which had to have washed away her previous experience of dating. The fact of the matter was his Junior was getting married to the perfect guy who knew her from inside out and who would love and support her till the end of time. The fact of the matter was that his Junior would no longer need him as she now had a supportive family, a supportive fiancé and an uncle who was in prison.

Her life could not get more perfect than this, he reasoned.

Oh really, his heart sing-songed, is that what her life is getting.

He sighed. He couldn’t with his conflicted feelings on this anymore. The day of the Shagun, his heart had skipped several beats, because she was beautiful, because she was a vision, because she had accepted the proposal, because she was going to marry a perfect guy, because she was going to the house he could only dream of entering, because she had walked past him and he was covered by her Duppatta and her scent and her and he couldn’t do a single thing about it.

He had been reckless, asking her to look back and check before entering the new phase of her life, asking her to make sure that she would not miss anything from her old life, asking her to look at him and not look ahead and being unable to ask her to say no because he had no right.

He did not have any right.

He did not want any right.

After the way he had ensured her family that he would never love anyone in his life, he had no right to go back on his words.

Besides, it was momentary, these feelings. They did not mean anything. When he was deprived of her presence, he would move on.

His Junior was a mere chapter in his life, one he had completed now.

It was the end, it was time to start new chapters, it was time to walk ahead, it was time to move on.

A car horn shook him out of his head.

There they were.

His Junior and her fiancé.

His half-brother and his fiancé.

Yet another person that would be taken away from him by his father’s family.

Yet another person he chose not to fight for from his father’s family.

He waited, shaking himself out of the thoughts that threatened to ruin a good thing for his Junior, only to realise she wasn’t with Hridhaan in the car.

He watched, waited with bated breath, hoping that she was maybe in the back seat, that maybe she was in the car somewhere other than the passenger seat, but she didn’t get off. She was not in the car.

Where was she?

He had just left them, not even half of an hour ago, in the restaurant after their perfect date and here was Hridhaan, her fiancé, all alone, with his Junior nowhere in sight. He had just let her out of sight and now she was nowhere to be found.

He watched as Hridhaan got off his car, seemingly in a trance.

He looked as Hridhaan began walking towards his home, without so much as a glance in the direction of the Mathur house.

Jeet called him out, his name wrenched out of Jeet’s mouth ina bitter tone.

If anything was wrong with his Junior because of Hridhaan, then he didn’t know what he would do. He was the one that pushed Hridhaan for Saumya, he was the one that vouched for Hridhaan, he was the one who guaranteed Saumya’s father that Hridhaan was perfect for her.

Well, the perfect guy turned to face him, his hands holding the Shagun-ke-Kangan he had seen on Saumya’s wrists before, right beside the scrunchie she always wore on her wrist. The scrunchie he always ended up using to steer her in the direction he wanted her in.

He couldn’t understand what was happening right now.

He asked Hridhaan, “Junior kaha hai?”

Jeet was usually good at controlling his voice, his pain, his fury, his anger, his everything, often came out in a humorous, self-deprecating and mocking tones, tones from which no one could guess what he actually felt.

He could hear the fury in his tone as he grabbed Hridhaan’s shoulder to pull him out of the trance as he growled, “Hridhaan. Saumya. Kaha hai?”

Hridhaan looked at him, his voice barely a whisper as he answered, “Mujhe nahi pata.”

Jeet didn’t know he could feel this amount of anger, the urge to lash out wasn’t exactly something new, but never had he wanted to hit people he actually considered friends before.

The commotion between them had attracted the attention of both the families. He watched, disconnected, as her father asked what Jeet wanted to know, “Kya matlab tumhe nahi pata Saumya kaha hai? Tumhare saath hi gayi thi naa woh?”

Hridhaan flinched, his jaw clenched, “Mujhe pata nahi ka matlab mujhe pata nahi. Yeh, yeh Kangan mujhe waapas deke, woh bas, chali gayi.”

Jeet howled at Hridhaan’s reply, furious at his stupidity, “Aur tumne jaane diya?”

Hridhaan’s mother came in between them, “Tumhari himmat kaise hui, mere bete pe chilaane ki?”

Jeet pointed at Hridhaan over his mother’s head, so angry, “Toh isne harkat hi aisi ki hai. Pyaar karta hai naa usse? Toh jaane kaise diya usse? Woh bhi akele?”

His mother retorted, “Toh kya mera beta uss ladki ke peeche jaaye joh usse thukra chuki hai. Usse shaadi ke sapne dikha ke usse chor ke jaa rahi hai.”

Jeet chuckled bitterly, “Nahi. Nahi. Aap ke bete ko uss ladki ke peeche jaana tha joh uski bachpan ki dost hai. Jisse woh pyaar karta hai,” he looked at Hridhaan, his gaze tracking his half-brother’s, “Poora din Sumo yeh, Sumo woh karta rehta hai aur usse aise hi, aadhi raat, beech Sadhak kahi jaane diya?”

Hridhaan scoffed, “Ab tum mujhe bataoge ke mujhe mera dil tootne ke baad kya karna chahiye. Tum? Jisne kabhi kissi pyaar kiya hi nahi hai?”

Jeet clicked his tongue, “Nahi. Main tujhe yeh toh nahi bata sakta ke dil tootne ke baad kya karna chahiye, but haan, main tujhe yeh zaroor bata sakta hun ke ek dost ke saath kaise pesh aate hai. In fact, main tumhe yeh bhi bata sakta hun ke meri Junior ke saath tujhe kaise pesh aana chahiye.”

Hridhaan laughed bitterly, mocking him as he asked, “Meri Junior? Woh tumhari Junior kabse ho gayi?”

That stumped Jeet. He stumbled over his words. He backed a step away. He stuttered, “Meri Junior--- matlab, haan, Junior hi toh meri. I mean. Saumya---”

Hridhaan interrupted him, “Chodo Jeet. Joh tumse bola nahi jaayega, joh tumse samjhaya nahi jaayega, use bolne yaa samjhane ki koshish bhi mat karo.”

A thunder clashed in the night sky, shaking everyone out of their revere. Saumya was still lost, no one knew where she was. Jeet could not afford to have baseless and meaningless fights, he needed to find her.

He looked at Krish and asked, “Call try karo Junior ko. Dekho woh phone utha rahi hai ki nahi.”

He looked at her mother and requested, “AuntyJi, please Junior ke friends ko call kijiye, puchiye unhe ki unki Saumya se baat hui hai ki nahi.”

He looked at her father, and paused, before he asked the man who was more worried for her than him, “UncleJi, aap market ki taraf dekhiye, mein college ki taraf dekhta hun. Junior zyaada dur nahi gayi hogi.”

He could feel the water droplets as he sat on his baby, he was half wet before he could even start the engine.

She was out there, all alone, in the middle of the night, heartbroken, probably, and safe, hopefully.

As he just started his bike, his arm was grabbed, stopping him before he could leave, and he looked up at Hridhaan as he pleaded, “Main bhi chalta hun. Mein help kar sakta hun.”

Jeet shook his head, pulling his arm out of Hridhaan’s hold as he interuupted, “Pehle hi bahut help kar chuke ho tum.”

With that he drove out of the neighbourhood, in search of the one girl he had come to care more than a normal amount, the one girl whose happiness and sadness have come to matter to him, the one girl whose life he choose not to destroy with every word he said, every decision he took, every action he put into play.

He drove around, his mind playing every word of his that could have hurt her, every decision of his that could have confused her, every action of his that had led to this moment.

This moment being him searching for her, fully drenched, furious, and scared.

He was scared for her.

He was scared of losing her.

The last time it had rained like this, he had found her in a children’s park, under a slide, hiding away from a park bench, reliving the trauma that she hadn’t been able to avoid since it had happened to her.

She wouldn’t be there, would she, he asked himself.

She could be, he realised.

That was the place where she ended up whenever her fight left her, she had confessed this to him. He drove just a bit faster, to the place that was her nightmare. To the place she returned to when she felt defeated, when she felt tired, when she felt helpless, when she felt like she was trapped.

And there she was.

Once again.

A vision in red.

Drenched to her bones.

This time, this time she sat on a swing, as she watched the same bench, she had avoided looking at the last time he had been here with her. He got off his bike, not letting her out of his sight lest she disappears again. He watched, as she swung, just a little, her gaze stuck on the place that was hurtful for her.

He reached her, but she didn’t notice him, lost in her thoughts.

His jaw clenched as he ordered, her eyes shifting to him, “Junior. Ghar chalo.”

She looked up at him, and it felt like she could not believe he was here. She watched him, for what felt like an eternity, but was a few seconds.

Seven, he believed.

Then she slowly shook her head, just a little, a denial nonetheless.

He exhaled, his patience already wearing thin, as he asked again, “Ghar chalo Junior.”

She shook her head again, this time strongly, in a clear denial, and he finally let go off what little control he had over himself as he asked slowly, livid, “Tumhe pata bhi tumhare Papa kitne pareshaan hai, tumhari Maa, Krish? Kar kya rahi ho tum yaha Saumya?”

She looked up at him, her head tilting to her left as she asked him, innocently, like a child, “Aap yaha kya kar rahe hai Sir?”

He snorted, nodding his head, shaking off his irritation so that he does not actually say something that would end up hurting her, “Main yaha jhula jhulne aaya hun. Zaahir si baat hai mein yaha tumhe dhundhte dhundhte aaya hun.”

She nodded, taking her eyes off of him, her eyes sliding off him to go to that god forsaken bench again, before she asked him another stupid question, “Par kyun Sir?”

“Kyun?”, he scoffed, before looking away from her because her stupid questions made him want to strangle her, but she nodded again and repeated, “Haan Sir. Aap mujhe kyun dhundh rahe the?”

He laughed in disbelief, but her inquisitive gaze did not waver, and his laugh faded away slowly as he answered, “Toh kya karta mein? Kissi ko pata nahi tha tum kaha thi Junior. Tumhe dhundhu nahi toh kya, dindhora peetun ke tum ghum ho gayi ho.”

She nodded again, and Jeet wanted to just. Just.

She had to be doing this on purpose.

She had to.

She looked up again, “Kya meri kismat itni achi hai, ki mujhe khud Jeet Sir dhundhne aaye hai?”

Jeet’s eyes locked on hers as he heard what she asked. He knew then, that she had taken it the wrong way. He knew then, yet he hadn’t clarified, hoping she sees him as this egoistic idiot who believed that he was too good for any girl. That he was too good for her.

He shouldn’t feel sad just because she took it just the way he meant for her to take those words.

Then why did it feel like someone was holding his heart in the palm of their hand and squeezing it so that it would hurt.

Why did it feel like she was saying those words to deliberately hurt him?

It did not matter.

Those words.

What he had meant.

What her interpretation of those words had been.

Whatever she was doing now.

Whatever she hoped to achieve by her words right now.

None of it mattered.

He looked at her, the last bit of his patience finally snapping, then turned away from her. He asked with his back facing hers, “Ghar chal rahi ho? Sab bahut pareshaan hai. Tumhare Papa, tumhari Maa, tumhari Taiji, Krish, Hridhaan---”

She scoffed. He turned to face her again only to see a bitter smile adorning her pretty little face. She wrenched her fingers, her fingers intertwining by themselves, her scrunchie actually doing its job holding her hair in a ponytail.

She looked away, “Mujhe nahi jaana ghar. Ghar jaaungi, toh sab puchenge ke maine Hridhaan ko mana kyun kar diya? Aur main waapas jawaab nahi de paaungi. Maa naraaz hogi. Papa gussa ho jayenga, aur Krish, Krish ki bakwas---”, she paused, her eyes wandering, before she continued, “---rehne dijiye. Mujhe nahi jaana ghar.”

Jeet looked on as she basically threw a tantrum at him.

He could not believe the stupidity of this girl. Just because she didn’t want to answer some questions she actually didn’t want to go home.

He sighed, and suggested, “Okay. Jawaab nahi pata hona problem hai naa. Thik hai. Mere saath practise karo.”

She looked up, adorably confused, “Practise?”

He nodded, “Haan Junior. Practise. Kyun todha Hridhaan ke saath tumne yeh rishta?”

Her eyes widened as she looked away from him, and she mumbled, almost a whisper, something that was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain, something he caught anyway, “Mujhe nahi pata.”

He clicked his tongue, “Junior. Practise. Come on. Kyun todha tumne yeh rishta Hridhaan se? Tumhara bachpan ka dost hai. Tumhe samajhta hai. Padhosi bhi hai. Tumhare past ke baare mein bhi jaanta hai. Tumse pyaar bhi karta hai. Tum dono ki jodi perfect hai.”

She shook her head once again, “Mujhe nahi karna koi abhyaas.”

He leaned down to her eye level as she was looking to the ground as she answered, “Abhyaas nahi Junior. Wajah. Kaaran. Reason.”

She looked at him, at his baseless questions when she had so many of her own, questions only he could answer. She chanced a glance at him and risked asking the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since this whole circus started, “Wajah? Kaaran? Reason? Agar yahi aap ka sawaal hai toh mere bhi ek sawaal ka jawab de dijiye. Iss rishte se aapko kya mil jaayega Jeet Sir?”

He laughed nervously, “Mujhe? Mujhe kya milega? Sawaal mere baare mein nahi hai Junior. Sawaal yeh hai ki iss rishte ke liye naa karne ki tumhare pass koi wajah nahi hai. Mera kya hai Junior. Mein toh sirf do pyaar karne wale ko mila raha hun.”

“Ek Sir.”, she replied, before he had even finished speaking, and continued as she glared, “Aap ek aise insaan ko usse milane ki koshish kar rahe hai jisse woh pyaar karta hai, bina yeh soche ki saamne wala usse pyaar karta hai bhi ki nahi.”

He looked at hre incredulously, “Toh pyaar ho jaayega Junior. Pyaar ho jata hai Junior. Aur pata bhi nahi chalta.”

She scoffed, his words hilariously humourful and ineffably true.

Jeet realised what he had said, and tried to explain, “Mera matlab hai. Tum dono thoda time waqt saath bitaoge, ek dusre ko samjhoge, ek dusre se baat karoge, ek dusre ki parwa karoge, ek dusre ki baatein bina bole samajhne lagoge, ek dusre ki khushi samajhne lagoge, ek dusre ka dard baatne lagoge, toh pyaar toh hona hi hai naa.”

Jeet nodded, satisfied at his answer, proud of himself for yet another teachable moment.

She laughed, hollow and mirthless, before she dropped a bomb on him, “Iss hisaab se toh mujhe aapse aur aapko mujhse ab tak pyaar ho jaana chahiye tha.”

His steps faltered as he took a step back from her, but she continued, “Hum ek ghar mein rehte the, waqt bitate the, ek dusre ko samjhte hai, ek dusre se baat bhi kar lete hai, mein aapki bahut fikr karti hun, aur aap bhi, aakhir aap aadhi raat ko mujhe dhundhte dhundhte yaha aa gaye. Ek dusre se bina bole baat hum bhi kar hi lete hai. Hum ek dusre ki khushi samajh lete hai, ek dusre se dard bhi baant chuke hai.”

He listened as she listened all these points, points he had raised himself, before she met his gaze and asked, “Toh kya aap mujhse pyaar karte hai?”

He looked at her, his tongue tied.

Did he love her?

Did he?

Was the stupid ping he felt in his heart every time she walked away from him towards Hridhaan, love?

Was his protectiveness of her, love?

Were those silent conversations, love?

Were those rooftop moments, love?

Were the bitter and ugly words he spoke to her after he was hurt by his father, love?

Was his anger at her for celebrating his birthday, love?

Was his disappointment at finding out that she had gone behind his back, love?

Was his fear over her losing her life in that fire, love?

Was his right to scold her, to hold his anger over her, to be scared of her, love?

Was he really in love?

He stuttered a reply before she could reach to the wrong conclusion, or the right one, and asked, “Toh kya tum mujhse pyaar karti ho?”

And he knew the answer to that. She obviously didn’t love him. He was unlovable. He was the illegitimate child in a pure city. He was an unwanted child born out of a sordid affair that destroyed at least five lives. Five lives that were not his. No. He was too stubborn to let his life be destroyed by the actions of two adults who he loved whole heartedly, but who never loved him like he loved them. There was no way anyone could love him, let alone her. Her love for her father would never let her fall in love with him, someone her father so completely disapproved of. His reaction alone for his confession of love in front of Hridhaan’s confession of love was enough to prove of what her father thought of him. She would never defy her father by falling in love with him.

No. No she did not love him.

“Haan.”, she answered, shattering his hopes, crumbling his belief system, she continued, “Haan main aap se pyaar karti hun.”

He looked at her, the determination in her eyes, like she was challenging him, “Main aapse pyaar karti thi. Main aap se pyaar karti rahungi.”

He laughed, like she had made a joke, “Junior. Acha mazaak tha.”

She shook her head, still serious, “Mazaak nahi tha.”

His laughter slowly fell, and he contemplated, and quickly came to the conclusion that nothing good would ever come out of it. So, he did what he did best. He tried to destroy the good thing coming his way. He tried to close the door to something that had the potential to destroy him if it ever entered his within.

He looked her in the eyes, and denied her claim, “Junior. Saumya. Tum mujhse pyaar nahi karti ho. Yeh pyaar nahi hai. Yeh, yeh sab bas tumhare mann mein hai. Yeh tumhe bas isiliye lag raha hai kyunki maine tumhe tumhare uss lampad tauji se ladhne ki himmat di hai. Aisa bahut logon ke saath hota hai. Isse Saviour Syndrome kehte hai. Isme logon ko lagta hai ki unhe unse pyaar ho gaya hai jinhone unki madad ki hai. Yeh bahut comm---”

The crack in the air was something that could never be drowned by the sound of the rain that surrounded him.

The slap shouldn’t have hurt Jeet.

It did.

She did.

He looked at her, as she finally seemed to realise what she had done.

She looked up, her anguish had not faded just because she had slapped him.

She, through her clenched teeth, defended herself, “Mera pyaar koi Saviour Syndrome nahi hai. Aap aisa keh bhi kaise sakte hai? Aisa soch bhi kaise sakte hai?”

Jeet watched as he moved a step closer to him, her finger raised between them, “Aap ko sirf apna Rakshak, yaa apna Sahara nahi maanti. Samajhti hun ki aap bhi ek insaan hai. Ek pinjre mein kaid insaan, joh apni Maa aur apni Nani se behadd pyaar karta hai. Joh unke bina jeena sirf abhi seekh rahe hai. Main jaanti hun ki aap ab hi apne BapuJi ke pyaar ka intezaar karte hai. Samajhti hun ki aap ka strong hona duniya ko dikhana hai ki aap ko kissi ki bhi zarurat nahi hai. Ki aap ka self-love actually self-defense hai. Kyun ki aap mein kissi aur ko khone ki shamta nahi hai.”

He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t refuse anything, he couldn’t deny anything, because all of it was true. He knew it was true.

He did not know that she knew it too.

She took another step closer to him.

He just watched.

She gulped, “Aap meri shaadi Hridhaan se isiliye karwana chahte hai kyun ki aap chahte hai ki main aap se dur chali jaao. Uss ghar mein chali jaao jahan aap kabhi bhi nahi aa payenge. Jahan par hum kabhi nahi mil paayenge. Jaha par main aap se kabhi waapas nahi mil paaungi. Jahan par mere hone se aapko kabhi mujhe nahi dekhna padhega. Kabhi mere baare mein nahi sochna padhega. Jahan par aap ko lagta hai ki main khush rahungi. Aap ke bina. Aap ke siwa.”

She took another step forward, her hand cupping the cheek she had just slapped, so close to him, touching him, touching a touch-starved man, touching a man who has been craving a loving touch since the people who gave it to him no longer existed in this world anymore.

He inhaled her, her sweet scent enveloping him, surrounding him, enchanting him. His hand raised without his permission, covering her hand with his own, pressing her touch, searing in into his skin, imprinting her touch within him. He closed his eyes.

Just a slap.

Just a touch.

Just a moment.

He could allow himself just this one moment in her presence. He could. He shouldn’t, but he could. He wouldn’t be able to stop even if he put his whole life into pulling away from her.

She had touched him, right after she had slapped him, but she had touched him, and she hadn’t flinched when his hand had found hers.

She pulled him down, continuing, “Aap mujhe apne aap se dur kar rahe hai, kyun ki aap darte hai, ki agar aapko mere hone ki aadat ho gayi, toh mere jaane ke baad aap waapas akele kaise jeeyenge.”

How could she know that?

How did she know that?

He was all set, he had done his part, he had written the script, directed the play, doled out roles and executed the show, and yet here she was, not in character he had set for, not at the place where she was supposed to be, not saying lines she was supposed to say, not enacting the role she had been appointed.

She really was something else.

Lost in thoughts, he didn’t know when she had moved closer to him, closer than a girl had ever been to him, he only realised when he felt a soft touch between his eyebrows. The buzzing within his body stopped, his whole body relaxed, his fight drained out of him, his shoulders dropped and he let go.

All because of one gentle touch.

All because of a one little kiss.

All because she had kissed his forehead.

His eyes were still closed, he wasn’t ready to face her. He may never be ready to face her again.

Her, his Junior, Saumya, was being so strong, and he was a coward.

Her other hand cupped his other cheek as she leaned her forehead against his.

He heard her inhale and matched his own breath to hers, a moment passed as they just took each other in.

This intimacy, intimacy she had initiated, intimacy he was so afraid of, was something they both needed. Something they both wanted.

She exhaled, “Please mujhe aap se pyaar karne dijiye Sir. Mujhe nahi lagta ke mein aapke bina jee sakti hun.”

And how could he refuse, how could he possibly refuse her?

How could he ever refuse anything she asked of him?

How could he refuse her love when she was asking for permission just to love him?

How could he refuse such tenderness, such care, such love, from the one person he craved more than anything, enough that he was ready to let her go?

How could he not love her in return?

How was he supposed to not love her and let her love him when it was all he needed and wanted in his miserable life?

He took a deep long breathe, and opened his eyes, his forehead an inch away from her as she looked down to meet her gaze, and he couldn’t stop himself from accepting even if he wanted too. He answered the only way he could think of, by confessing to her question, in return he ended up giving himself some relief from his self-inflicted agony too.

“I Love You Too, Junior.”

So much for her chapter ending from his life.