FF: Serendipity [Completed] - Page 9

Chapter 8:

It didn't come as news to Geet when she heard Maan confess about his fear of the dark. Nayantara had mentioned about it in passing keeping things breezy and refusing to disclose more information when Geet had expressed few doubts. She had then realized that irrespective of how superficial Nayantara seemed, when it came to Maan, she played extremely close to chest.

"That's a paradox, is it not?" She asked him without fully explaining what made her think so. He shrugged.

"Don't we all make choices that an observer outside the contained environment would deem as paradox?" Maan asked looking her in the eye. Geet faltered.

"That's more of a contradiction than a paradox," she replied.

"Not to the observer," Maan rallied back. Geet hummed and sipped coffee. She didn't think it was appropriate to ask him further about his issue so she fell silent and looked at other walls which had posters of some or the other cosmic phenomenon. Conversations dwindled and awkwardness set its foot between them making them fumble and stumble around each other.

When yet another conversation fizzed into nothingness, Geet sighed and stood up. She could gracefully handle herself in most social gatherings or one-on-one meetings but with Maan she felt she was treading on eggshells. Always afraid that something might break and she would lose the connection she felt she had shared with him that night when he talked about stars and universes.

"Thank you for doing this," Geet said collecting her things. "Really, thanks." She said haltingly. Maan didn't respond but just observed her as she picked her purse and shuffled around. He sensed the underlying nervousness in her actions and wondered if he was the root cause of it all.

"Good night." Geet said looking at her watch and walking out. Maan, who was a step behind Geet, sighed, which went unnoticed by her.

"Why?" He asked, a tiny bit of exasperation creeping into his voice. It had taken him almost thirty minutes to figure out that Geet was making small talk and trying to get him to converse.

"What?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Why is that you don't look at me when you talk to me?" He asked her bluntly. Her furrowed eyebrows relaxed and she flushed. Her eyes wandered everywhere but right in front of her where Maan was standing as if she was a thief who was caught red handed while stealing something. She took several short breaths and tried to relax her hammering heart. "I don't understand Geet," Maan said again. "Are you angry with me?" He asked, softly.

Her wandering eyes froze and she looked up, surprised at his words.

"Angry?" She exhaled, incredulous. "Why would I be angry with you?"

"I don't know. I felt that throughout the evening you were talking to me just to keep appearances." He shrugged.

"If I was really angry with you, would I have talked to you this evening? Would I have come to your apartment for dinner?" Geet asked. She had no idea how Maan had arrived at that conclusion and it was confusing the hell out of her. Maan didn't reply her immediately.

"I don't know how these things work Geet." He said waving his hands around them. "Except for Dev and Nayantara, I don't have any other friends; close or otherwise. I have couple of acquaintances at work but they aren't as close as Dev or Nayantara are. Sometimes I don't know what social protocol is in a given social situation and I end up misreading it and at times even misrepresenting my intentions," he replied helplessly. Geet struggled with her choked throat to formulate a response. "I don't want you to be angry with me as I don't want dynamics between Nayantara and you suffer because of me," he added shaking his head. Geet turned away from him hiding her face and her eyes which had suddenly sprung tears.

"No, I am not angry." She said looking at him. He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled thinly at her.

At that moment she wanted to let go of all the social norms, ignore every red signal raised by her mind and simply take him in her arms. There was extreme social vulnerability surrounding him masking his intelligence in its grey womb. She wanted to cut through all barriers and untangle the web of complexity he had woven around himself. She balled her fingers in a tight fist till nails dug into her palm leaving crescent moon marks, its pain not even coming close to the ache in her heart.

"I am glad," he gushed. She veiled her face with her curly long hair nodding in acknowledgment. She didn't trust her voice to be steady to utter a response. "Good night," he finally responded, his voice light and easy.

She turned around and fled.

To be continued.