Not A Simple Engineer Boy!

Thirteen: Bernoulli's Theorem (Part 2)

"Priya, what are your plans for tonight?", Krithika asked while trying to enjoy her coffee.

Eww, why can't they make good coffee?

"Want to wear something expensive for sure.", Priya winked at her, "Obviously it's peer pressure but to be honest, I want to appear my best. It's not every day that we get invited to such parties."

She nodded, slightly grimacing at the taste of the coffee.

"What about you?", Akash asked her as he took a tiny sip from his green tea, "I am planning to wear my decent casuals, nothing matches a good fit."

Priya raised her brow, "Fit, I see..." and she continued to stare down his body. Akash's eyes looked down as he muttered a few expletives, his light brown cheeks tinted pink. Everyone laughed at his instant reaction to Priya's teasing gaze.

"I was thinking of a cocktail dress, I have one that looks quite gorgeous.", Rashi chirped, "I was saving it for such events."

Krithika was listening to their suggestions and slowly doubting her own choice. Each month after spending on her basic groceries, rent, and utilities, she never had enough money to buy something good for herself. She had a habit of saving every penny and buying things that were an absolute necessity. Yes, people found her to be stingy, but her life had taught her that money surely bought happiness, at least independence.

She never cared for a lavish lifestyle. She surely was the daughter of a wealthy man but her parents never cared to pamper her to their riches and she grew up like any other girl in a middle-class household.

"I have planned to wear a dress that I sewed for my farewell ceremony in the final semester.", she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Everyone saw her in utter shock as if she had told them that she believed in flat-earth theory.

"You never got yourself a dress? And what about 'I sew'?", Priya stared at her in disbelief.

I don't need pity. Please.

Yes, she had sewn her dress, as she couldn't ask for money from her parents. They had insulted her enough to make her believe that she was on her own from the time she left her house to study master's, with a fucking full scholarship- that was a slap on her father's cheek, who had called her a brainless fool. And she had worked a part-time job to cover her expenses.

She had wanted to attend her farewell and it had been too much of pride to beg again, so she had made a dress from a saree that she had chucked in her suitcase while saying her goodbyes to her mother. It wasn't posh, but surely was beautiful.

"I guess I should leave a bit early, the map showed there's heavy traffic near my P. G.", Krithika smiled feebly and left, unable to answer anything more. She wasn't keen on sharing any of her life details, particularly her relationship with her parents- her father.

--

Krithika inhaled deeply, realizing she was holding it for far too long. It made her feel like she had chickened out earlier from her circle of colleagues. But that was what she was all about. She ran away from people to avoid questions, avoid consequences, and hid under the exterior of a very independent individual.

She believed in developing personal and professional boundaries as it had helped her from being judged as a toy of pity. Many of her classmates had churned out sympathetic looks on her with a statement, "Oh, your father doesn't support you, such a shame."

She needed none of that. It had been only one time when she had cried in front of Satya, letting her mentor know more than required and then she had gone to her so-called home to make sense to her parents.

She wanted people to treat her with respect, for her work and dedication. She was more than grateful to her parents that at least she had inherited a smart brain, but that didn't mean she hadn't worked every second, worked step by step to seize whatever tiny victory had been possible, and had finally celebrated the day when Satya welcomed her into the team.

And she wasn't ready to drop it all by oversharing her trauma.

She had been a bit unsure when Satya had asked her to meet a therapist, probably a good friend of hers, and had ended up healing slowly. Her therapist never charged her the normal rates, which initially irritated her, but she soon came to terms with it. Therapy had helped her and she wasn't any more interested in fighting against it.

She collected her belongings and rushed out of her extravagantly large office which she shared with her team. She fiddled with her fingers as she waited for the elevator to arrive, anxiety gripping her like a parasitic weed growing and plunging into her lungs. Her chest felt heavy.

And finally, the doors opened. She inhaled sharply.

Not now, not today.

--

A/N

Amit Trivedi is absolute love. I mean... the man has all the talent to compose songs that are bliss :*

Every song in this album is just wow.

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