Forget-Me-Not: Taste of Freedom

Chapter Twenty One

"It's just me and my wife."

"Your mother told me a few days ago, when I met her. Varun, I'm so happy for you..."

His fingers curled, and he looked away, unable to shield himself against pain and regret. It was so strong, so sudden that it left him reeling.

"Thanks," he croaked. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm all well. I started working as a counselor in a college. You know, helping children and offering advice. The boring job, according to you."

He snorted. "I'm head of Finance at Interlink."

Anokhi blinked, a little surprised at that piece of information. "Really?"

"Yeah. Since the last five years."

"Wow."

An awkward pause followed. The wind ruffled her hair, making strands of dark chestnut flutter over her eyes. She pushed the locks back, gazing at him with a sort of puzzlement as well as empathy. He knew that look well. She was puzzled.... She should be. She'd never seen this side of him.

"So... what brought about this change?" she asked. "Your wife?"

"I met her four years ago, after I'd started my job."

"Oh."

He didn't say anything. Then Anokhi hesitated, and unconsciously touched her hair. He'd seen her do it countless times... at times when she hadn't known what to say.

"Varun... you've changed."

Their eyes met. He felt a sort of resentment as he looked at the flicker of sympathy that he saw in her gaze. He didn't want her to feel sorry for him-she was the one who'd lost her legs. She was the one who'd had to fight for her life. He'd gotten out of everything scot-free. She was the one who had to pay all the prices. And yet, she was the one feeling sorry for him. He clenched his teeth, trying to suppress the sudden flare of protestation that unfurled in him.

It shouldn't have been this way, his mind whispered. He should have been happy, not her.

"Everyone else seemed pretty much the same," she murmured, talking about his family. "But when I saw you... when I see you now, I think... I think you haven't forgotten it. You haven't forgotten anything."

"You're wrong," he answered, meeting her gaze. "I've moved on."

"Have you? Really?"

"What do you think, Anokhi? I have a job. I have a life. I have someone to spend my days with, someone to get my back. It's more than I deserved."

"And yet you're not happy. You're not any different from what you were six years ago. You still crave that life, you still crave the high that the adrenaline always gave you. You've moved on, but you still want more."

"No. Not anymore."

"So you've stopped it? Everything? All those sky-diving, bungee-jumping, surfing holidays that you used to take?"

"Yes. Everything."

He didn't know why he felt so empty when he finally admitted it. The one thing that had separated them... well, he'd given it up. And he didn't feel any better.

"I never thought you would," she said finally. "It was such a big part of you."

"Sometimes, the only way is to let go."