'Breath in, breath out' ~ Advice (to me) by some very mature lady who thinks I'm a mentally unstable cat. Now that the cat's out of the bag, Meow.
Typed On - 10/11/2018 - Finished typing on - 13/11/2018
Chapter 23- His Cure
It's not my fault.
It was late last night and he didn't want to tolerate Jaanvi's voice. She always ends up fighting with him, according to Kiaan. He's not alive for twenty-seven years for no reason. He knows her inside out. He knows what she does and why. Therefore, Kiaan had no doubts that she'll ask him to sleep on the couch and that little furniture could barely fit his body.
Yeah. As if I'm dying to share the same bed as her.
He had to relax his head. And, Kiaan, thought alcohol is the best option to go stress-free, After his grandfather's death, he's changed. A little for some, but those who know him well, a lot. He was so close to him. To his father's father. Apart from being related by blood, they were best friend. But it all changed. And he blames himself for it. Till this day.
FlashBack
"We're leaving India," Kiaan tells Dhruv whose face instantly falls. The youngest son in the family is shy. He can't—finds it hard to—adjust into the new atmosphere with new and different people, unlike Kiaan and Kajal. He's an introvert, his elder and younger siblings aren't.
To Kiaan, his brother's face tells a big story. He's certainly satisfied with his life in India. The fifteen-year-old Dhruv's comfortable in his bubble, unlike his seventeen-year-old brother. Kiaan wants a new start, new adventures and experiences. Something he believes he can't have in India because his focus is always on Jaanvi.
He wants a change. And this change will be the best.
He's in this middle age—the funky age of seventeen—where you're not a kid but not an adult too. Someone who's busy discovering their life and goals for a better future. Raj, Kiaan's father, has received a job offer from his friend in New York. Keeping in mind about all the possible opportunity and better education, without hesitation, their father agrees.
They didn't have much time to visit all their friends and family members before leaving. Kiaan didn't live too far from Jaanvi but his ego blinds him. Whatever Tina has said, it's stuck in his head. He made up his mind he'd not see her before leaving. Whenever they leave.
Both the boys are heading in their rooms when Kiaan hears his father talking to his grandpa in a very angry and loud tone.
"Come with us! What'll you do alone here? There's no one here to look after you dad! Why are you bring so stubborn?" Raj is trying his best to stay calm—by the look of his fisted hands—but his rising demanding voice says otherwise. The annoyance is clear and bold.
"Because I can't leave this house! You grew up here, t-this households your late mothers memories, Raj. You can go, i-I w-won't." Kiaan swallows a lump at the mention of his unselfish grandmother. "I can take care of myself. I'm not that old." Mr Rajput's voice is dismissive, as if he's had enough for today.
They all tried to convince him to shift with them but he didn't change his mind. Kiaan understands parts of it—of his grandfather's decision—but is his stubbornness above them? Because of a house? A house wouldn't be a home if the family isn't there. Doesn't he love us?
Since that day, Kiaan started maintaining his distance from the old man. The days before their flight to New York, the hot-headed body made sure to be civil and respectful but reserved. He would only talk when asked to. He stopped spending time or walking around the park with his grandpa. He stopped everything that kept them close.
The old poor man noticed it and endured the ignorance of his favourite and first grandchild.
On the day of their flight, Kiaan had bent down to touch his feet, respectfully, but his grandfather stops him. His trembling arms pull his grandchild up by the forearm to embrace him into one last hug but Kiaan jerks it off. "I need to pull the luggage out." He used an excuse.
"Bhai—" Dhruv had tried to reason his brother. He couldn't bear the painful look in his old grandpa's eyes. Besides, they weren't sure when they'd come back to visit him. One last hug. That's the he wanted.
Kiaan's eyes were deadpan serious and impolite when he'd looked at Dhruv to shut him up. "I'll get the luggage." And like that, he dodged the hug.
Since the day they landed, his grandfather called every day, spoke to everyone but as soon as his old throaty voice asks for Kiaan, the eldest grandchild would make an excuse of sleeping, or showering, or going out. Or doing homework. If his grandfather is stubborn, so is he.
Kiaan was—is mad. Mad because his grandfather's decision was baseless. Home is no home without a family. Doesn't he see living in New York City gives us an opportunity at a better and brighter future? He ignored Kiaan's pleased, so now the teenager is doing the same.
Their last—and first since the day they've moved to New York—phone call disturbs him till this day. Ten years later it still haunts him.
"Dadu please. Do—don't say that you love me because you don't. I requested you, begged you, pleaded for you to come with us but you didn't! You know we're not sure when we'll visit India again but still you decided to stay there alone. Why? Because of that house? Is that house more important than me? Than your Kiaan?" (Grandad)
"Kiaa—" The old man coughs as he speaks but the hot-blooded young-man interrupts him.
"No dadu. Not today. Talk to me when you're ready to leave the house!" He's resentful. His voice is in charge and blunt. He wanted his grandpa to experience living in a different country with a different culture. He'd see his class-mates grandparents coming to pick them up but his wouldn't even be at home.
He is hurt.
But he never realized he hurt him more that day.
They received a call from their neighbour in India, informing about his grandad's sudden death. Heart attack. People think it's because he was old or missing his wife. Some believed it's because Raj had—has become selfish by leaving his father behind. If only they knew the whole truth.
Kiaan did.
He believes—strongly believes—he's the reason his grandfather's death. I killed him.
With my words.
It's going to be ten years soon since he's died. The memory is still fresh in his head. Kiaan was depressed, he blamed himself for it. He stopped playing sports because he missed him. A lot. Reyansh and Aarav were his only friends—at the time—from school who helped him come out of the horrifying memory.
After his death, whenever he felt low, angry, worthless, lost and penitent—anything that's negative—he'd always go to a club. Shower himself with alcohol—his grandfather had died a week before his eighteenth birthday—there was a point in his life when he'd stopped concentrating in his education—swimming—and his future. His escape was and is alcohol.
Flash Back Ends
They all lived in the same house—under the same roof—but his family rarely saw him. Now it all makes sense to him. The reason why his parent's got him married to Jaanvi. They saw her as a loving, bubbly, lively, kind and free-spirited person. That's stupid though. He doesn't understand how on earth can a girl change him? He can't change his lifestyle for her.
Did they really expect me to come home early every day to see my so-called wife? His only love is his work. I can't love someone. The last time he loved someone more than myself ended up being dead.
Because of my word.
I know I killed him. His hope, his smile, everything.
He can't bring himself to kill or hurt another person. His lack of tolerance brings the worse out of him. If he's the reason for someone else's misery the pool of guilt will kill him. That's why he wants to stay away from Jaanvi. She's too fragile, but she won't accept it, according to Kiaan.
Last night Reyansh picked him up from the club. Reaching home he had to hear a brutal yet honest lecture from Aarav. The rest of the night he slept in their bedroom because it was late—very late—and he didn't want to disturb Jaanvi or face her with his drunk state.
Now when he thinks about it, he's got different opinions. To be honest, I don't trust my drunk self to share a room with a girl.
They were all sitting in the dining table waiting for Jaanvi to arrive. A couple of minutes later she did but with a fake smile on her face. You can see and even feel the rage in her eyes. When her eyes land on Kiaan it almost broke his heart. She looks shattered.
Trying to break the awkward silence Dhruv asked, "How did you sleep Bhabhi? You were comfortable." It irks Kiaan. He scowls. He knows we dislike each other, yet he's got the guts to ask this stupid question?
Wow.
He puts his spoon down. Full attention on Jaanvi. This girl always has good comebacks. Still, he won't admit it out loud to her. Can't afford to boost her confidence up. He's longing to hear what she'll say to this. A lopsided amusing smirk reaching the corner of his lips but he hides it just in time—replaced by a frown and challenging look.
A look with determination because he knows she hates being proven wrong or challenged by him. Throw me your best, Stubborn Cat.
He glances at his friends. Both of them have the same studious eyes on her but with a little panic—on Reyansh's—and curiosity—very much—in Aarav's. Interesting. Aarav doesn't like or give people attention quickly. He's the tough nut to crack.
"Oh yes," She replies smiling, Dhruv nearly chokes his food out at her boldness. Kiaan's brain needs a little time to register exactly what she's said—admitted to. She gone mad? He can comprehend and acknowledge her fake blush to hide the truth but this—fearless—answer will lead her in trouble. If not by anyone but Kiaan, to the least.
He doesn't like her poise attitude. Because it challenges him.
"You see, I had the whole bed to myself!" She continued. This time Dhruv does choke his food out and starts coughing loudly. His stunned eyes on his brother, wordlessly inquiring what on earth does she mean.
Kiaan's face is roaring-red. Knuckles white because of the tight fist and blood swims upwards from his veins—all over his body—to his face. He looks violent and unpleased by her answer. There was no need to be so direct and communicative about this. His mouth tastes cruel, as if he's ate a full spoon of cocoa powder.
He passes his wife the most serious, unwelcoming and word-of-advice look, threatening her to take back what she said or twist her very gossipy statement into a lighter one, supposedly a joke. Jaanvi doesn't care because he didn't think twice about her feelings before being so ruthless.
You hurt me without even uttering a single word, Kiaan. And that, feeling, is the worst of all. To be known you're unwanted—not accepted—and feel left out, alone, so alone that it's unbearable. And be confused. Because you don't know what you've done wrong. You don't know what to apologise for. You don't know how to fix it.
The newly wedded bride ignores his threat like she ignores the stupid horns by people on the busy roads of Delhi. Her eyes shift to her mother-in-law, Kiaan feels his heart popping out of his chest. Don't say anything stupid. Please. His mother can't bear being the cause of someone's misery.
"He wasn't home last night. So I had the whole bed, no sorry, the whole room to myself! It was so comfortable, I must say." Hurt. Her body language says it all to him. Her face is shaking as she vocally showers everyone with the truth. Her jaw it tightly clamped—cheeks red in rage—and frame trembling as if revealing this truth is drain her energy and embarrassing her at the same time.
Not only did her husband but everyone can hear and visually see the sadness in her depressingly soft voice—so vulnerable—and face. "You were right aunty. You promised to treat me like a daughter and you are. Even in my house, I used to have the whole bed to myself."
Kiaan isn't sure how he's supposed to react because he wasn't prepared for this. He knows she's got a mouth sharper than knife but this. He's old friends with her sharp tongue but there's a limit. She's crossed it. He can't accept her bluntness in front of his family.
What will they think?
Kiaan can see the unshed tears in her eyes. She's trying to hold it in with that tormenting swallow she takes and closes her eyes for a few seconds to regain her power. But why? He doesn't understand. She knows I don't like her.
He doesn't even have the time to explain himself—in front of her—or protest for his honour when she stands up and excuses herself, without touching the food once.
Jaanvi leaves. Hurriedly. Kiaan watches her rushing out the door. Her steps unsteady—as if she hasn't made up her mind where she'd go—shoulders firm and hands quaking as she opens the door and steps out without looking back.
"Kiaan." He hears his mother's ashamed and stern voice. He composes himself for another lecture from Roshini. He rolls his eyes like a small kid, pretending to not be affected by anything. His mother doesn't take the eye-roll well, "Young man. Don't you dare roll your eyes at me? Why weren't you at home last night? Where were you?" She's formal and edgy—not a good sign.
"Mom, what do you expect? Bhai doesn't like her!" Kajal spits putting her word on the table with a grunt. She rests her phone on the table glaring at her mother. "I told you Tina is way better. But who listens to me? This is all your fau—" (Brother)
"Enough Kajal! I've tolerated your attitude and behaviour for so long but not now. Don't forget who you're talking to." The brusqueness in his voice and body language quietness his younger sister. His finger-pointing in her direction—unconcerned of her feelings—accusingly, "Jaanvi is our Bhabhi, which means, she's our family now. She is family, Tina isn't. So stop with the Tina praises!" (Sister-in-law)
Dhruv has never been fond of Tina so his hard words aren't surprising anyone expect Kajal. Nobody in their family ever raised their voice at her. Kajal has been the pampered child.
Being the stubborn child she is, Kajal stands up—her chair pushed back violently—grips her phone from the dining table, she walks out of the house fuming.
"Jaanvi grew up without a mother, Kiaan," Roshini's expressions are replaced by sadness and pity for Kiaan's wife. Her eyes are undoubtedly motherly remembering her best friend's daughter's face, almost on the verge of crying. "I know you both are different people and don't like each other. But please, treat her like a human, at least."
She's humiliated. Like Jaanvi. "I can't meet Ishaani with the burden of ruining her daughter's life. I made a promise, Kiaan. You did too. You promised you'll be kind and mature." She wipes her eyes and makes a pathetic sound of crying.
"Mum." He protests getting up from his chair, Sympathetic towards his mother. "I didn't kick her out or made her eat old food! I am treating her like a human being. I—I wasn't home yesterday that's it. I needed space, nothing more." He says as truthfully as he can. Eyes shimmering in worry for his mother.
"Stop drinking." His father says to his son in a warning voice. Till now he's been quiet. Kiaan's confused eyes makes Raj raise his voice loudly, "It will destroy you! Not only you, but Jaanvi too. And Ansh. Oh, god. Ansh." His voice drowns in the pit of sorrow just by imagining his friend coming to know about Kiaan and Jaanvi. His father starts to massage his temple.
"I can't," He exclaims as soon as she's gone. He can't handle all the accusing eyes on him like he's murdered someone. "I won't and I can't change myself for someone. I'll lose my temper if I don't drink—it helps me keep sane—it keeps me in check, Dad. I don't know what I'll do or how I'll manage myself if I don't get drunk. Besides, I made it very clear from the start that I'll marry her but I'd never change my ways of living for someone else." The one thing he's proud of is being honest to his family from the very first day.
I have a very bad temper and they all know it, then why try to take my medicine away from me? It's the cure to his problems. His loneliness.
A heavy silence—pin-drop silence—falls in the room. Aarav decides to break it with his friendly gentle yet practical brisk voice. "Kiaan, think about your wife." He's irritated with his friends. Kiaan's all over the place. One second he's all protective, the next he's distant. Aarav's eyes are on the table, hands fisted, to control his anger because Kiaan is being foolish and he's sure one day, his friend would regret it.
He doesn't want to think about anyone else. The last time he did—he cared for someone deeply, from the bottom of his heart—they ended up dying. He can't bring himself to kill another innocent because of his honesty and lack of filter. Jaanvi is straight-forward and brutal too, this makes it worse. The two of them talking—casually—can turn into hurling insults and hurting someone deeply unintentionally.
Married My Enemy
Edited On – 15/05/2020 (4:38 p.m.)