#21Days

Starting over

9.00 pm

Sitting in front of the bedroom mirror, I glance at myself once again. I've taken the effort to wash and blow dry my hair, liberally moisturize my skin, dust my skin with foundation, apply a thin layer of eyeliner and kohl, and some lip gloss. I'm smelling of green apples, Rohit's favorite fragrance.

I've also chosen a fairly good-looking nightdress, a deep blue A-line chemise with pink flowers imprinted on it. I stand up to take in my entire look. I'm nervous. Suddenly I feel all of this is a bad idea. I rush to the cupboard and grab my regular flannel pajamas. Before I have the opportunity to change, Rohit enters through the main door.

Barely two months had passed since my mother left for the heavenly abode. I was still coming to terms with the void her departure created in my life. We all knew it was coming. And yet, when it did, it came as a shock. But I was also a silent brooder, my mother was my only constant companion. I didn't know how to express my loneliness. At times I lashed out at Rohit. At other times, I clung on to his shoulder and cried. It was all very weird. And then one day, I felt dizzy on the sets. Some air, water, a short nap later I completed my shot and made my way home. Two more consecutive days of the same dizziness, the hot flashes, water, air, and a short nap. The crew got concerned. I casually mentioned it to Rohit and he suggested a blood test to eliminate the usual suspects. The results of the blood test surprised us both. I was pregnant.

I'm caught like a deer between the headlights. I'm about to mumble something incoherent when I notice Rohit checking me out discreetly. His faint smile giving me an inkling as to the direction his thoughts are wandering towards. I wait for him to look up and look straight back into his eye. His eyebrows raise in an appreciative gesture. I draw in a sharp breath. I don't remember the last time he looked at me like that.

It had been three days since I'd found out I was pregnant. I should've been happy. I should've been ecstatic. I was neither. I was instead, angry and petrified. Angry that we'd been careless enough to allow this to happen and petrified because I didn't know what this meant for my future. Not the future of Mrs. Sonakshi Sippy; the future of Parvati.

When I'd mustered enough courage and casually mentioned to Rohit about the no-pregnancy clause in my television contract, he'd told me to break the contract. "We'll pay the damages," he'd said as a matter of fact. That only added fuel to the already burning fire.

"Seriously, Rohit, are you listening to yourself?" I'd screamed on top of my lungs. "You think money is the answer to everything?" I picked up the cushions from the couch and threw them on the floor. Then I proceeded to stamp one out with my feet. The mere action exhausted me. I sat down on the couch, to catch my breath. Rohit went up to the kitchen and brought me back a glass of water. "Drink," he ordered. I shook my head. He thrust the glass under my nose. I turned my head the other way. "Drink," he ordered once more, this time a little louder. I paused. Rohit had never spoken to me in that authoritarian manner. I took the glass of water from his hands and dared to look up at him. He'd looked back at me, then, and for the first time and I saw a glimpse of his nerves of steel. I could sense his resolution. He would do whatever it took to protect that child.

Rohit places his bag on the accent cabinet and begins taking off his shoes, all the while without breaking his eye contact with me. My breath begins to hitch. First, the shoes come off, then the socks. Then he casually takes his coat off and places it on top of his bag, on the accent cabinet. My breath is turning short and erratic. The room suddenly seems small. He walks towards me slowly, unbuttoning his shirt with his right hand, one button at a time. I'm feeling hot. Am I running a temperature? I try to focus on his left hand, which's dangling by his body to take my mind away from the sensations he's making me feel. I lose miserably. By the time he reaches me, he's completely unbuttoned his shirt. I'm hyperventilating, I know I'm going to faint. I stare at his perfectly sculpted abs that contour the inner shirt. I close my eyes in part frustration and part confusion, unable to process the emotions raging within me.