“He didn’t approach me directly. I think he remembers your threat.” She scoffed, her mouth tilted in a sardonic twist. “Just made the comment in passing loud enough for the cafeteria to hear and the gossip to spread. People like having someone to talk about to distract themselves from their own issues.”
Rian wanted to say something to ease her pain. He wanted to admit that he thought she was amazing, that he was constantly in awe of her, that he saw her beautiful heart that competed with how beautiful he found her physically as well. But how did one say all this and still remain not-friends, as he so often insisted?
“I will never be with someone who will make me feel what Harish did, ever again. Like I need to be embarrassed of myself. Like I am not enough.” This was a vow she’d made to herself and planned to stick by. At his sombre look, she reached out and patted his hand, her lips curving up for his benefit.
True to form, she was reassuring him instead of letting him make her feel better. Had she never learned to lean on someone else? He knew how isolating and tiring it could feel, always being the one providing support instead of reaching for it.
Rian watched her finish the rest of her meal with gusto, flitting from topic to topic, laughing, sharing anecdotes, forcing him to stay involved and engaged. Not for a moment did he see her wallow in self-pity.
And all he could think of was that Aditi, with her wide smile, kind heart, sunny disposition, and innate strength, deserved someone who believed she made the world go around.
Because she was Aditi. And that was reason enough.
13
A Proposal
Rian
Rian assumed that Aditihad changed her mind.
Considering that in the week since her offer to have a no-strings-attached fling with him, she had not brought it up again, it was natural for him to conclude that she had decided against it.
There had been plenty of opportunities for her to broach the subject because Rian, out of an uncontrollable compulsion to see her eat, had been finding one excuse after another to drag her out of the house at random hours of the evening to visit different eateries around Mumbai. Aditi had called it her personal food tour across his city, and maybe it was exactly that.
While the menu at his restaurant offered a range of gastronomical delights reminiscent of Mumbai and its spirit, somehow, sitting with her at a roadside eatery or inhaling seasonal treats from little known boutiques while they visited Mumbai’s landmarks made for an immersive experience unlike any other. He had never had the opportunity to share this in the past. He’d never wanted to before.With Aditi and her obvious delight every time he brought her to a new place and introduced her to new foods, he couldn’t imagine having done anything else.
He’d driven Nanamma and Aditi to Gateway of India that evening, treating them to a lavish dinner at the heritage hotel across from it, the Taj. They’d passed by Haji Ali on the way home, another famous tourist spot near which was a small mom-and-pop shop that served one of the best desserts in the city—a custard apple pudding that rivalled the leading ice creams in the country. Watching his grandmother laugh and enjoy the evening with them had put him in a good mood, any niggling doubt about the reason for his solicitousness towards Aditi brushed aside in light of Nanamma’s happiness.
Plus, he was being a good host, he told himself, unable to stop an indulgent smile from gracing his face when Aditi dug into another ice cold bowl of custard apple cream.
With Nanamma asleep and no longer available to shield him from the full force of Aditi’s pull, he hoped he could continue reminding himself of why he’d refused a date with her. Sitting out on his massive balcony, music playing on the speakers, the cool breeze a welcome relief from the heat of the day, he was hard pressed to recall when last he felt this level of attraction for a woman. Everything about Aditi made him want her to a degree that felt irrational and illogical. And nothing seemed to stop that need from growing.
He sat back, trying not to stare at her smacking her lips. The happy shoulder jiggle after each bite and the little noises she made with each lick of her spoon were as adorable as they were torturous.
This woman should never be separated from food, he decided right then. As long as he was around, he would keep her fed and fed well.
Aditi’s phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts.
As she read her incoming message, the bliss on her face from the sugar rush dimmed. Her lips thinned before she began to typefuriously, sitting up with a low curse when there was the ping of an immediate response. Huffing, she laid her phone facedown and sat back, her eyes glazed over.
“All okay?” he asked, watching her chew on her spoon instead of eating her dessert. Startled, she glanced at him, as if only now remembering that he was still there. She nodded at first and then let out a beleaguered sigh.
“It’s nothing. Just my mother asking me if I liked anyone I’ve gone on a date with. Or if I’d given thought to Pratik.”
"Who's Pratik?"
"Some guy my family has picked. He’s perfect,” she spat, scrunching her nose in distaste. “Perfect face, perfect family, perfect height, perfect age, perfect citizenship, and. . .”
“Wait. Citizenship?”
She rolled her eyes.
“He’s an NRI so people think he lays golden eggs.” Rian snorted, but Aditi kept talking. “He’s my father’s best friend’s son. He’s also filthy rich. He’s the right caste, the right sub-caste, the right lineage. Even our astrological charts have a decent match. How do I say no?”
“He sounds like an asshole,” Rian muttered, feeling discomfited by how unnaturally flawless this new man seemed. “No one is that perfect.”
“I don’t want perfection,” she said, and the knot in the centre of his chest loosened. He watched quietly as she stood up, stomping over to the railing. “I don't want to move to a different country. People think I’m crazy to complain. I’d have a lavish life and would need to do nothing except be a good little wife.”