APRICITY [Completed]

5. VIHAAN

"While seeking revenge, dig two graves- one for yourself"- Douglas Horton

I don't know what I feel..or how I feel. All I know is that I had my revenge but there was no satisfaction in it.

I'm an idiot. A dumbass. An asshole. I'm inhuman. There's no other explanation as to why I would hurt an innocent in my thirst for revenge.

What have I done?

Why did I do it?

Will she ever forgive me?

Who am I kidding? Of course, she won't.

Surbhi is the only person who actually cared for me. It wasn't an act, neither was she after my money. Her every action was genuine.

All the nights she woke up till late waiting for me to come home; only to lay on the couch and pretend that she was sleeping.

What kind of man makes their wife sleep on a fucking couch?

She could have chosen to sleep in the guest room but she didn't. She always came back to me. She yearned for something I never gave her. My love, my touch.

Oh, wait! I did give her plenty of my touches. But not feather like sweet touches that make newlyweds blush. I beat her. I beat her because some sick part of me enjoyed her whimpers and cries of pain.

A memory of me using my belt on her back echoes in my brain. A shiver runs down my spine and I bury my face in my hands. I know for a fact that even if she ever finds it in herself to be able to forgive me, I won't be able to make eye contact with myself in front of a mirror again.

When I was a kid, I used to curse my fate and the unfairness of life. I hated that I was the one getting punished for something I never did. But then again, that's exactly what I did to Surbhi.

The horrors I put her through. How does someone move on from something like this?

The sudden thought makes me jolt. I will hire the best therapist for her. A whole team of them, if need be.

But then I sit down. What right do I have any more? I didn't let people in this house cook for her when she was here. Why will she let me do anything for her when she clearly wants a divorce?

DIVORCE

I don't like the sound of this word. I have been alone almost my entire life. Yet, this is the first time I feel lonely.

Surbhi thinks I never noticed her. I did. True, I didn't know that she preferred coffee over tea. But I know that her favourite ice cream flavour is Butterscotch, she loves the colour green and she would sell a limb to attend one of Taylor Swift's concerts.

She gets a cute, tiny dimple on her right cheek every time she smiles. She did that plenty of times when she first arrived here. With time though, I gave her fewer and fewer opportunities to smile and eventually, they completely faded.

She likes to read romance books. She finds rabbits cute and is a sucker for soft toys. I remember not allowing her to keep any in my house, the house which was supposed to be ours. The house I was supposed to make her feel safe in.

I grip my hair and tug on it harshly. I want to cause myself pain. I want to make myself bleed the way I did to her. I got up, walked to the dressing table and punched the mirror. The glass shattered around me in various small pieces, the true representation of what my heart feels like.

The housekeeper bursts into the room and views the mess I've created.

"Please go Rekha aunty," I urge. She's an old lady and I've disappointed a fair share of people already. I like her and I don't want to push her away also by being rude.

"Vihaan baba you're bleeding."

That's when I noticed my busted knuckles. Funny how I don't even feel the sting of pain.

"I'm alright," I try to assure her, or so it seems.

She sighs and smiles warmly at me.

"Did you know that your mother and Surbhi's mother were best friends?" she says.

My ears perk up. I didn't know that.

"They were the ones who convinced their families to do business together," She further elaborates.

"I had no idea," I admit.

Nobody ever told me what happened. All I ever got around was that Anmol Khurana killed my mother during cross-firing.

After mom was gone, my father was the only one who could supply me with the information, but I was always too scared to ask. Every time he thought of Mom and the Khuranas, he beat me. Not being a masochist, I never initiated the conversation.

Rekha Aunty took a seat and patted the bed beside her. This gesture is strange but I comply. I need more details.

"Your mom, Aarna, and Surbhi's mother, Muskaan, were childhood best friends. They loved each other like sisters."

I can see it happening and I wonder why I never thought about it before. Muskaan is a very kind woman, just like my mom. I have vague memories of her being very cheerful and happy before Mom's death. After that though, is a whole different story.

Now that I see it, she must have grieved her friend's loss. Even then, she managed to raise Surbhi well.

"When they got married, they arranged dinners together with each others' families. Slowly, both sides started warming up to each other."

This is something I can't picture. With all the hate I have seen intoxicating the people around me, even the prospect was funny.

"This was when both the ladies suggested the merge in businesses. At first, it looked like a good idea. Both sides even had a lot of profit after the merger. But as the business grew, so did their enemies."

I am not unaware of how many enemies growing businesses can create. And the worst part is that those enemies would not look for ways to confront you. They would either backstab you or plant a leech who would suck at all the right places.

Like I did to the Khurana's.

Fuck! That's another thing I need to undo.

"A third party started planting false plans and pieces of evidence on both sides. He made them sceptical and weary of each other. And when the time came to strike, he did."

The bell rings downstairs. Rekha Aunty gets up but I hold her hand. I need to know the truth. I need to know what happened next. I need to know what happened to my mom.

The bell rings again. Someone else can get it.

"Tell me," I demand.