The bell signals the end of class. I suppress a smile at the sight of relief on their faces. It doesn't bug me; in fact, I get them. Who can sit through a two-hour lecture without losing their mind? I try my best to make the class as interesting as possible, even giving the students short breaks. But concentrating on the same subject for so long is always a challenge; I know because I was a student once. Perhaps the class topper will beg to differ.
"Read the chapter on financial markets. I'll be asking questions tomorrow at the beginning of the class," I announce, my voice cutting through the silence.
The murmurs of acknowledgement slowly fade into the distance as I head to my office and unlock the door. Setting down the mountain of books, I sink into my chair. Exhaustion seeps into my bones, and I find myself leaning forward, my forehead resting against the cool surface of the desk, utterly glad for the absence of any more classes.
A sharp knock forces me to open my eyes. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I sit up just as Mohan pokes his head through the door. "Time for lunch."
Right on cue, my stomach grumbles in agreement.
I lock the door behind us as we make our way downstairs and hop into my car.
"Where's Ravi?" I ask, noting his absence.
"He's teaching the first year, then he has two classes back-to-back for the second year."
I wince in understanding as I start the car.
"Yash is meeting us," he adds, showing me the latest message from our WhatsApp group chat.
We arrive at our usual cafe, and sure enough, our ever-punctual friend is already seated inside. He waves us over, and I smile as we join him at the table.
"You finally found some time to meet us," I tease as a greeting.
He snorts in response. "We were on a study tour for three days. You are making it sound like it's been three years."
"Three days, huh?" I lean back in my chair, giving him my undivided attention. "Felt like a lifetime." I have known Yash since college. He was my senior, but since we shared a hostel room, he became one of my closest friends. Now, as the head of the statistics department, many perceive him as cold and strict, oblivious to the goofy side he reserves for a selected few. Even Mohan and Ravi were taken aback by Yash's antics when they first joined us at the cafe, but they've grown used to our nonsense.
"So, you missed me, is that what you're trying to say?"
Mohan lets out a groan, dropping the menu onto the table with a loud thud. "Rein it in, you guys. You will make your wife jealous."
Yash chuckles. "She's been over the moon ever since Rihan found someone. No more feeling like the third-wheel in her own marriage."
Mohan and I burst into laughter. I pat Yash's arm. "She can dream all she wants, but I'm not letting you go."
"Careful, Rihan. Mira might get jealous if you keep this up."
As if, I think to myself. Mira and jealous? That will happen when pigs fly. "Let's order."
"I have already taken care of it." Yash nods toward the waiter approaching our table with three trays of burgers, fries, and lemon iced tea.
"Thanks, bro," I say to Yash, stealing a fry from his plate.
"You never told us why you canceled your wedding," he brings up after a while.
"Postponed," I correct him, frowning. "I have explained it to everyone, including you two. It's an arranged marriage, but shouldn't we take the time to get to know each other?"
"That's all?" he probes.
"This is the nth time you've asked me." I meet his gaze. "What else then?"
It was a reasonable explanation. But I get it. Yash has known me long enough to sense when something is not right.
"It just seemed too sudden. One moment we knew you were getting married, and the next, you were like it's not happening anytime soon. Weren't her family angry?"
"No, they understood. They returned to Canada and plan to come back later," I elaborate, recalling my conversations with Mira's father. They were planning to return soon after Neil's graduation, but when I informed them about Mira's treatment, they decided to let her stay here longer. Her father has apologized countless times for keeping it a secret. Despite my anger, I don't really blame him. The pain in his voice told me they only want the best for her. Whenever I update them about Mira, I can feel their genuine relief.
"And Mira is living with you," Mohan supplies.
"Yeah."
"I am still surprised that your families are okay with this arrangement."
"Why would they not be? We are only getting to know each other."
"Still, I doubt my parents would have been so accepting," Mohan says, taking a sip of his drink.
Yash nods in agreement.
"Well, yours was a love marriage, after all. What more could you want?"
Mohan gives me a sheepish smile, and thankfully, that's the end of the conversation as we finish our lunch. I glance at my watch and realize it's been hours.
I signal the waiter for the bill and pay it because it's my turn.
"Okay, I have to go now. See you tomorrow."
"Wait, Rihan," Yash's voice stops me. He reaches into his bag and pulls out an invitation card. "I almost forgot the main reason for meeting you guys. My sister's getting engaged this Sunday. You and Mira have to come."
"Wow. Congratulations, bro." I squeeze his shoulder as I accept the card, suddenly feeling uncertain about asking Mira.
She has always been quiet around people, even during our engagement ceremony. But back then, I didn't give too much thought to it.
I get into the car and navigate through the bustling streets of the city, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. I arrive at the rehab center and cut the engine. Before I can step out, Mira emerges from the gate and slides into the seat next to me.
"How was your day?" I ask her, searching her face for any signs of distress or discomfort.
"Good," she responds with a small smile. "I have been asked to write down my goals for the future."
"Have you thought about it?"
"Not yet. How was your day?" she asks in return.
I blink and turn to her, hoping I didn't mishear her. She looks at me expectantly. I smile like a fool. I can't help it. "It was great." Then remembering the invitation card, I hand it to her. "My friend's sister is getting married soon. Her engagement ceremony is on Sunday. He invited us. Would you like to go with me?"
She falls silent, her voice barely audible when she speaks again. "I don't think it's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"People will talk."
"It will be fine."
"But-"
"We are engaged, my future wife."
She shoots me a glare but says nothing.
"It's final then."
"I-I don't have anything to wear."
"Give me a believable excuse."
"Seriously. My parents told me to pack, but I was angry and didn't bother."
"No problem. Did you forget we have this place called shopping malls where we can buy clothes?"
She opens her mouth, but I play the radio, drowning out her protests. We stop in front of the mall, and Mira doesn't make a move to get out as expected.
I open her door and wait. She looks up at me and down at her fingers. "Do I have to?"
I nod.
She lets out a resigned sigh, more of a whine really, and accompanies me into the mall. We head to the second floor where women's clothing is available. She looks around and shrugs, her uninterested expression baffling me.
"What are we buying?" I ask her.
"What should I buy?" she asks me instead.
I pause briefly. "Saree," comes my automatic response.
She nods slowly, and together we search for the perfect saree. Finally, her fingers settle on a lemongrass saree adorned with intricate silver border work. It's stunning, and I can already picture Mira in it, taking my breath away.
Don't call me cheesy.
"Let's go," she says.
"No, let's get a few more. We may have to attend other events."
"We can always come back. Don't forget this place called shopping mall remains open every day." She throws my words back at me.
I roll my eyes. "Fine."
We make our way to the counter and wait in line. As our turn arrives, I reach for my wallet, but she beats me to it, pulling out her card from her bag.
"Let me pay," I insist; after all, I am the one pestering her to attend a ceremony where she knows no one.
"My parents gave me money. I should use it. They'll be happy to know it's not for drugs," she quips, a hint of humor in her tone.
She retreats to her room once we return, and I start preparing dinner. As I chop onions, her voice pierces the silence, catching me off guard.
"Do you need any help?" She sounds unsure, hesitant, and out of place. She doesn't feel like she should be here, but she wants to be here.
"What can you do?" I ask her, unable to hide the skepticism in my tone.
"I can watch you."
"Hmm?" My hand pauses in the air as I look up at her with a raised eyebrow.
"I mean, um, learn from you," she quickly amends, reaching for the knife.
I shake my head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Why don't you peel the garlic cloves?"
"Sure."
I make fried rice and chili paneer, then we eat in silence, neither of us looking at each other. I have so much to say, but I refrain, afraid of destroying whatever we have built so far.
"Good night," she murmurs softly and leaves.
"Good night." I watch her until she shuts the door behind her.
And, you can follow me on Instagram at she.who.writes.magic if you'd like. It's a new account, but I'm already having a blast sharing reels. I also plan to post snippets of my stories. With Wattpad removing DM soon, I think this is a good alt to stay connected.