finally will be consistent w updating hpefuly with the summer coming ;)
Without further adieu, here's the next chapter...
༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
DEVI BHATT
"You."
I blink at the finger being stuck in my face.
"Me..." I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling.
"You're fired," he deadpans.
"Well that's a bit dramatic," I say, coyly.
"My ass is on fire," he flares his nostrils.
I crane my head to look behind him. "I don't see anything."
He snorts and I break my innocent facade as laughter bubbles up my throat, escaping.
Out of nowhere, the arm that was behind his back comes out with a cream pie and my laughter dies along with my feelings of satisfaction.
"Oh no you don't," I waggle an accusing finger at Feliks retreating back into my bedroom.
He stalks forward, grinning. "Oh yes I am."I take another step back ready to take off and lock myself in the bathroom but he's already in front of me, his hand solidifying around the back of my neck. "Enjoy," his eyes flash with satisfaction.
Then he shoves that cream pie into my face, twisting it into my face real good as if he didn't do a good enough job at first.Then, slowly but surely, he draws it down my face, down my neck and down my chest, dirtying my clothes.
My mouth is agape and my eyes squeezed shut so nothing goes into my eyes.
"You dick," I choke.
"Now that," he gets his phone out snapping a photo, "is priceless."
This was supposed to be about getting payback for spoiling the ending of a book, but why on earth does this seem more than that now? Now I have to get him back for this.
"Oh it is on, Feliks," I wipe the cream off my eyes, leaping forwards and spreading it all over his cheeks and into his precious tiny curls.
"Shit! Ew, stop Devi," he tries stepping backwards but I clutch his face too hard for him to try and escape. I slide the cream all over his face and head, giggling.
"This is fun," I smile. Feliks has given up trying to escape my hands and has his lips pressed in an unamused line.
"This backfired," he groans.
"Well you got it all over me," I point out. Sasha's black suit now has white cream all over it and if it doesn't wash out, it's definitely not going to look suspicious.
"And my ass is still on fire," he says.
I smile coyly. "Laxatives don't make your ass feel like it's on fire."
He narrows his eyes, a smile shining through his attempted annoyed face. "So it was you."
"I thought we already established that," I shake my head laughing.
"Why are you back so early?" he asks, steering the conversation in the direction I didn't expect.
"Oh–uh– my jet ski broke for some reason," I shrug, feeling my face heat up.
"Why are you turning red then?" He folds his arms across his chest.
"I'm not turning red," I pinch my thigh trying to divert the blood flow.
"Then why were your cheeks wet when I opened your door?"
"You saw that and still proceeded to shove that pie in my face?"
"Duh, I wanted payback," he looks me up and down grinning. "And I got it."
I plaster a smile on my face as I start pushing him towards the door and say, "alright, now go, I have to shower now that you've got all this over me."
"Wait–wait–I want to know why you were c–"
I wave with my fingers. "Toodles." And I shut the door in his face.
The rising rate of my heart begins to plateau off, an ease of calmness surrounding me in the absence of prying people and voices. Sometimes it hurts to be around people when you want to be alone– I laughed, sure, but anyone can laugh.
When I'm alone again the uncomfortable feeling of being in my own skin resurfaces making me want to fill up the bath with scalding hot water and burn off and disintegrate any remnants of what I just did. Erase my actions.
It's not fair on him either– he wouldn't want any of this if he knew the truth. But I don't plan on telling him so for now, I'll keep my distance.
My mother wouldn't be proud. Her voice has echoed in my head ever since I cracked under the pressure and opened up to her and my father. It wasn't my fault that I was irresponsible and sleazed around with guys older than me, yet she always made it seem like that. They were always working, barely at home, so yeah, I did get carried away. Then a little too late, she pulled me back into line hidden from any desirous gazes– except for one that slipped through the cracks of her steel shield.
Grisha. He's a plague, and I feel him running through me, deeper with every passing day and nothing can seem to shake him out of me. My eyes close only to visualise his greys, my eyes only open to revive my memory of them.
I turn on the shower not bothering to take off my swimsuit and rest my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor, with the water raining down on me.
Something tells me that this plague isn't going any time soon because while I can try to scrub away the horrible feeling of my actions, his touch is something I don't want to forget.
And it's something I want without having that soul crushing voice in my head.
...
Sitting cross legged on my bed, facing the head board, I take the reins of my mind to create a clear blank space in my head. Straight shoulders, head straight, hands resting on my legs and my eyes closed.
I inhale with my mouth slightly parted for eight seconds.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
I open my eyes staring at the plain wall and hold my breath for four seconds.
One scone, two scones, three scones, four scones.
Scones are nice when they have an unhealthy amount of jam and clotted cream on.
I exhale for seven seconds, feeling my chest collapse. I haven't done these exercises recently, I haven't really needed them so much, but today was a game changer.
The sky glitters ferociously with the thin crescent moon hovering in the middle. There's a breeze every now and then. It sends a comforting shiver down my spine, one that tells me I deserve to be alone with no-one. Personally, I think it's a reasonable thought.
Despite the visit from a specific enemy of mine, today I don't feel like someone's going to jump me from behind every two seconds. She's not going to kill me– she needs me.
Which brings me to the topic of what I'm being asked of. My jaw trembles as a lump forms in my throat. I don't want to choose, but for some reason, a selfish part of me already has. A gaping hole in me has been growing ever since, but everything now seems to be moving back into place.
Don't get me wrong, I was still happy. I am a happy person now generally. But it was the sort of empty happiness that makes you question yourself every single moment of everyday about everything. Is it happiness or fake?
The sort where you're not sure if you're actually happy or not, but you go along with the easier option because you have no excuse to be unhappy.
Being happy is easier than having to explain something you don't even know. Or something you know people won't understand.
I close my eyes, once again.
One scone, two sco–
I hear a creak outside my door, then a sequence of three knocks. My senses heighten and every minute of breathing exercises I just did feels useless.
"Devi?" a soft voice arises from behind the door. Grisha.
I immediately relax, then my eyes widen. The door handle moves and I quickly creep under the covers with my head on the pillow, feigning the state of sleeping.
Feet gently tread on the laminate floors until I hear them besides my bed. The aroma of lasagna fills my nose and my mouth begins to salivate.
I wasn't ready to face him, but he's not making it very easy. I fight an urge to smile as I slowly turn around, opening my eyes very minimally so he hopefully doesn't see.
I see a full plate of divine lasagna and I almost cry in joy. I thought they were having turkey today.
"Are you awake?"he asks and is met by silence, "alright, can't hurt to have a bite if you don't know."
I shoot up and my hand latches onto his wrist right before the food on the fork enters his mouth. A smirk creeps onto his face distracting me from the uneasy feeling of his skin under mine.
He raises a brow. "So you are awake."
He redirects the food away from his mouth, bringing it closer to mine. My mouth seems glued shut and something is stopping me from opening it. It feels like I need to pry it open because I swear my voice has disappeared.
"Open your mouth, Devi," he encourages, and it falls open embarrassingly quickly.
Then he feeds me a forkful of lasagna which makes his smirk soften. It melts in my mouth making my insides feel warm and fuzzy.
"This is exquisite," I feign a posh accent, whilst humming in delight.
I lift the plate off the tray and place it in my lap whilst trying to take the fork from Grisha. My strength is no match for the firm grip he's keeping on this fork whilst sitting on the floor.
"Hey," I frown, holding the knife the sharp side up, "give me the fork."
"Manners."
"You're one to speak," I stab my knife into a piece of lasagna before putting it into my mouth.
I can't really see his face in the dark, but there's a moonlight glow on one side allowing me the view of some of his face. Messy hair and glowing grey eyes looking right into my soul. They stop my heart for a split second every time I look into them. His beard is regrowing, getting more noticeable, I bet you could play with the hairs if you rubbed his jaw.
He clears his throat and my eyes shoot back up to his, and they really look at me. Like really.
They flit between my eyes like he's being indecisive. "Are you okay?"
My movements slow as my appetite begins to diminish. Being happy is easier than having to explain something you don't even know.
I plaster a wide smile on my face, looking at him calmly. "Yeah, what makes you ask that? Not like you don't ask me that at all but this it's random."
Before I can use the knife again he takes it from my grasp.
"I thought... after today–or yesterday, I did something wrong or went too far–"
I look up at him, a frown of confusion painted on my face. "What about today? You're being weird– is there something wrong?."
He looks up at me as he cuts the lasagna with a lost look in his eyes that makes my heart twist in discomfort. I need him to understand that I'm not good with confrontation and I'm not good at facing things I don't want to. This is my way of getting what I want.
Something flickers through his eyes before he blinks it away, pushing it to the back of his head.
"N-no, no of course not," a bitter tone gathers, punching me in the stomach, "why would there be?"
He shakes his head, tearing his gaze from mine, looking down and laughing lightly. He gets up, looking around because god forbid he looks at me.
Guilt festers in my nerves and stomach, making this meal threaten to come up. " I take it back. I'm sorry– I'm sorry for what I said that right now and for everything before."
"You're sorry?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"I don't want you to be sorry," he rubs his face, before rushing a hand through his hair.
"What?" I choke.
"Forget it, forget this, forget I ever came tonight, and try to forget whatever you want if that helps you sleep at night," he says, monotonously as he leaves.
"Please don't be mad at me," I'm out of bed now, walking forward. He stops. He turns around.
He steps forward, meeting me in the middle, allowing a sliver of moonlight to shine on his face.
Then he ever so gently, so gently it makes my heart want to cry and ooze into a puddle, takes my face into his hands, with a gaze that feels like warm honey sliding down my face
"How could I ever be mad at you?" he sighs, his hands leaving my face taking the warm feeling with it.
"Because I tried to lie straight to your face so I wouldn't have to face what I did." A stinging red blooms across my neck thinking of it.
"What you did? Devi you're acting like you killed someone," he says, confused.
I grimace. "Well, technically..."
He pinches the bridge of his nose and I can't help but smile a little. "I didn't mean it like that, Devi. I didn't mean it like that, I swear."
"It's okay," I go to pat his chest but I misjudge the proximity between us and end up hitting air.
"But I stand by what I said, why are you berating yourself like that? You don't deserve that," a deep line forms across his forehead as he frowns. "Whatever you've been told, let it go. Let it go and let yourself go, because it's killing you, eto ubivayet nas," he whispers, pained. (it's killing us)
A lump forms in my throat and I try to breathe normally and blink away tears. Am I that transparent?
I couldn't translate the last part of the sentence, he spoke too quickly. He takes a step back, the space feeling like a mile between us and all I want to do is run closer. The gaping hole between feels like a punishment, one I for once don't want.
Selfishly, I want everything I shouldn't have. I definitely shouldn't have him for myself, not when it's going to end in a complete disaster.
He backs away to the door, and I feel my heart strings pull and tug me towards him.
"Wait," I call out, softly making him pause. The faint glow of the light in the hallway seeps through the room.
"Get some rest Devi," he says, embedding a splinter in my heart.
You don't deserve that
"I just want everything to go back to the way it was," I whisper.
...
I twirl in my dress admiring the way the light glints off the glimmering parts. Even though it's sweltering, I can't just forgo this dazzling attire for the sake of it. In some instances beauty is pain– but not all.
A small section of my midriff is exposed, which is the part I decided to shave so no itty bitty hairs ruin the look. My bangles collide around my wrists making those familiar sounds. The skirt sways around my feet, brushing the floor slightly as I layer the dupatta across my shoulder down around my waist covering part of my midriff.
The revving of a car engine startles me in my robotic movements. When I look out my balcony, I see a whole line of lavish and excessive cars driving in tow into the hotel front. As one stops, so do the others slowly. The sun is at its peak in the sky, meaning the heat is at the top right now, which is not like weather in England. So when you look outside, you see the sort of blur that's caused by outrageous heat.
The first car which has pulled up is a beaming bugatti veyron accessorised with a light pink matte wrap.
Then out comes Santos, in a velvety red mens cultural attire for Nashwa's wedding. He flashes a grin to someone as he steps out of the pink bugatti. I'm not one for stereotypes but seeing this is just funny.
I see a peek of Sasha in a red sari and her red dupatta. Cue the song lal dupatta please. Demyan stands behind her in grey attire, his hand hovering on the small of her back. Sasha comes into full view and I feel my jaw drop, the flowers in her perfectly curled hair and her bejewelled sari makes me feel like I'm watching Aphrodite walk in flesh.
She walks around to the passenger seat and as Santos goes to get back into the driver's seat Demyan slaps a delicate hand on his shoulder, jutting his chin for him to get in the back seat.
I step back from the window before I can witness anymore of their tension. There's a whole ass mating game going on for Sasha.
After finishing up, my phone lights up as I apply the last of my lip gloss. I answer the call coming from Sasha as I quickly slide on my heels, running down the curving staircase.
"Wait up, I'm coming," I shout into the speaker, shoving everything into my purse.
"It's alrigh– Demyan stop the car she's coming!" Sasha yells, the sound filling the room.
He is not leaving me behind again.
I growl into the speaker, "You keep your foot off the gas and stay right where you are right now, you are not driving off without me."
"Too bad," he drawls. "You're taking too long."
"Don't you dare." And the call cuts off.
The automatic door slides open and I'm met with dust being blown in my face and the sight of a pink car driving off in the distance. Frustration builds up in my nerves as I raise my hand to flip him the fuck off.
Like honestly, why does he hate me so much? I'm not changing his fabrication of life so drastically that he can't sleep at night. Grisha said he's unsettled by such a new foreign presence, yet our relationship is not getting better.
Maybe I should suggest therapy for him to work out his issues. I think they've left his past unresolved from the disgusting abuse he received from his father. It surprises me that no-one addresses it.
The sun is glaring upon my face, unkindly as it tries to melt my makeup off. My phone pings with a message.
Sasha:
I swear I'm going to kill Demyan, I've shook his damn arm telling him to turn back but her won't, I'm so sorry
I reply to her message.
Me:
It's alright, I'll just drive there myself, can you give me the address?
She sends me the address then I hear steps behind me.
Sasha:
You won't be alone Demyan said, Grisha still has to leave
Okay Devi, just act like you yesterday or this morning didn't happen. Just act. You're good at that.
I turn, the sun blinding me, and see Grisha walking out the door in a dazzling black attire for the wedding. I place a fist to my mouth trying to hide my smile. I never thought I'd see him wearing something like this. I love it. It's cute.
I look away, scrunching my nose to try and grind away this fat smile. When I took on this job I would've never thought going to a desi wedding would have been on the agenda. I feel like I'm ripping him off with the salary.
"Uhm, hi," my palms go clammy as I feel a flutter rampage in my chest. "I have to go with you."
"No," he says and my head snaps to him. "Kidding."
"You look cute," I say, biting the inside of my cheek.
He snorts, dipping his head closer to mine.
"What?" I squint my eyes in the sun, "cute not cutting it for you today?"
He shrugs with nonchalance. "I've heard better."
I gasp. "I've seen better." My hand flies to my mouth.
"I think not." He grins, shaking his wrist in the air. "But nothing beats this."
My eyes widen. "That's a hefty rolex. Wouldn't want it accidentally hitting the steering wheel and flying off whilst you drive, so why don't you hand me the keys? I can drive and you can keep your pretty little rolex safe."
"You can keep your pretty little ass in the passenger's seat and let me drive this jeep," he chuckles.
I snatch the keys from his other hand quickly, a guilty giggle escaping my lips. As I turn around to race for the jeep ultra slow in these heels, I feel him tug me back by my dupatta.
The rampage of flutters in my chest explodes, spreading into my stomach. Butterflies.
He pulls me back to him, his chest, but not completely, like the barrier I built between us is physical.
When I try to tug away, my dupatta gets caught on his wrist keeping me in the distant warmth of his embrace. My eyes connect with his as he raises his wrist to sort it out. A corner of his lips quirk up as I intervene to stop him from messing it up even more.
"I think this is the world telling you I should drive," I say matter of factly, feeling his stare on me whilst I sort the threads.
His breath fans my face, making everything in me stop. I exhale. He speaks. "I think this is the world telling us we should stick together today."
"What will happen if we don't?" I play into his falsities.
"Death," he whispers.
I recoil. "That's awfully dramatic. I thought you were going to say something like the food at the wedding has salmonella or something."
"I wouldn't want to jinx it," he says.
"Oh so you're superstitious?" I ask.
"I believe everything in our life happens for a reason and nothing we do can change the fate we're bound to."
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
"Stunned you silent?" he chuckles.
"Of course not, I just wanted time to...reflect on your words."
"I think that's a win, now give me the keys or we'll be late, Devi," he holds out his hands.
"Oh, come on."
"We'll miss the food if we keep arguing," he slips in.
I glare at him, dropping the keys into his hand.
"Fine," I walk off, " but I'm driving on the way back!" I call out.
I strap myself in when I'm in the car securely, then turn on the built-in touch screen map and technological thing it has. I type in the address whilst Grisha starts the car and drives us out of the hotel car park.
"How long?" he asks, placing his arm on the back of my seat to look behind as he reverses. His lips are pursed, the look of concentration ingrained into his face as he clenches his sharp jaw.
"Thirty four minutes till our destination," I say as robotically as I can.
"That's a while, you can link up your phone to play some music if you like," he suggests.
"Great idea," I smile happily.
When I press the button music starts playing, making me jump.
"That just rattled my bones," I scrunch my face. "What even is it? It sounds so slow and depressing, not the mood you need before a wedding."
"Demyan drove this last, so I'm assuming something by Dexter Britain– a pianist I think."
The map shifts spontaneously, making me frown. The feminine voice comes out slightly different, with an accent.
"Wait, it's finding a new route," I say.
Grisha frowns. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I think there was probably a road closure."
"Take the next left in ten yards."
"Oh shit," he curses before veering left quickly.
"Woah there, calm yourself please I'm not dying before eating," I place my soothing hand on his, on the gear to make him relax and slow down.
I feel him grow stiff beside me.
"Your hand," his voice is low. "I think you meant to place it on my hand, on the gear."
I look at him confused. "It is–"
"If you touched my hand it wouldn't be so painful. Look where it is."
My face drops and falls in horror as I snatch my hand back away from his crotch. My face is aflame and I feel the sweats coming through right now.
"I am so so sorry," I apologise profusely, not looking at him.
I could get done for sexual assault oh my god. What have I done? Where are my glasses? I rummage through my purse for my glasses quickly putting them on.
"I'm really sorry," I apologise again, red as a tomato.
He shifts in his seat to readjust his position, very silently.
The rest of the drive is silent, I'm too embarrassed to lift a finger to change the music. Demyan's music still plays.
Palm trees after palm trees, each sunray being hotter than the last and my dignity burned. I'm ready for today to end and for my head to hit the pillows. I'm ready to forget everything.
After finally arriving we take our pick of parking out of the empty parking lot. My phone pings with a message from Sasha
Sasha:
Where are you?
I quickly respond.
Me:
Just arrived in the jeep
I put my phone away as Grisha parks up and gets out.
The building has a beautiful shining black exterior, and from the windows I can see a bedazzled chandelier inside lighting up the large hall. Double doors and tall decadent stained glass windows. White rose petals are scattered along the entrance and reception as we walk in casually.
Silence greets our ears. I share a confused glance with Grisha. He moves closer to me, his hand running down my arm lightly, making me almost shiver.
"This doesn't seem right," I whisper.
"Da, don't stray from me," he says back, quietly.
As we walk further in, the sound of noise and chatter fills the room and my shoulders sag in relief. Grisha's hand relaxes around the waistband of his trousers. Desi music is on and playing, making my nerves prick with excitement.
I pick up the skirt of my sari, walking forward quickly to meet up with Sasha. This. All of this. I've never felt so at home and comfortable. It actually feels normal, this. Everyones being normal about this. That's what I love– I can't wait to see Sasha properly in her dress.
A laugh leaves my lips as I tell Grisha to hurry up. My bangles make a musical sound with every step and my skirt sways. I stand at the entrance finally.
My face falls as I stand on the steps which lead down to the hall. A lump forms in my throat.
No lights.
Paint scratched off, walls peeling.
Brick walls.
Broken chandelier.
Empty fucking room.
And the worst thing, a speaker.
A speaker playing the noise we were just relieved to hear.
Grisha's warm presence behind me hangs in the air suspended. He glues himself to me, chest to my back, I hear the slow movement of a gun. Not even that can bring me comfort right now. All I wanted was a fun day out, not this.
I hear Sasha's notification.
Sasha:
You're not here, I can't see you
I know, Sasha. I know.
The shift in our maps, it wasn't trying to reroute. They hacked it somehow. Bile rises up my throat.
I clutch Grisha's hand behind me, my heart racing. He clutches it with an equal amount of fervour.
We hear a window in the back break and smash. My nails dig into Grisha's hand.
"Run," I whisper.
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it makes me laugh cause our cambridge girl hasn't solved what lyubov' means <3
y'all remember the snakes?👀ch 10 if you want... saying this for no reason at all tbh
guys who aren't culturally dumb and know shit>>
her way with dealing with bad moments as u can tell is imagining it never happened
ifykyky that dupatta moment, that movie was so emotional
anythoughts about this ch??>>
santos or demyan?
they're mini argument... how you feelin'
working on next ch asap, eat, drink stay safe guys <3