His head whipped in her direction, his expression incredulous, a little twitch in his jaw that could have been either irritation or amusement. Vera couldn’t tell.
Unfortunately, whatever emotion he’d experienced wasn’t enough to make him change his mind and come back to her. Shewatched quietly as his sleek car turned right and disappeared out their driveway. Jaws clenched together so hard that someone would need to pry them apart, she spun away and stomped back into her bedroom, making far too much noise for one human. It was the only way she could release her pent-up stress.
She brushed her teeth a little too aggressively, pulled her hair a bit too tightly into a pony and wore the tallest heels she had into work, ready to rip apart anyone who pissed her off. Unfortunately, all the fools in the world had decided to steer clear of Vera Talwar-Oberoi that morning, thereby denying her the satisfaction of unloading her frustration onsomeone.
By the time she returned home to an empty dinner table and an absent husband yet again, she was ready to set fire to something. Ignoring the concerned looks shared by the house staff, she marched into her bedroom and pulled out her suitcases, yanking off clothes from the closet and dumping it in. She would get Vihaan to pay her attention alright. And she would do it with a bonfire so big, the smoke from it would linger in his lungs for the rest of his life as a reminder to not push his wife past the point of her patience.
One by one, she pulled a shirt off its hanger, then a pant, then a jacket. And as she reached for one of the final pieces of clothing she was packing away, she stopped, her hand hovering over a familiar t-shirt with a faded MTV logo on it. Vihaan’s t-shirt—one she had stolen a couple of weeks ago to sleep in when she’d been missing him. Her fingers tightened over the soft cotton as she walked out, making her way to the armchair just outside her closet. Nose buried in the fabric, she inhaled deeply, his lingering scent calming her previous frenzy.
She slumped back with a sigh, unable to reconcile all that had changed in the weeks since she’d been orphaned.
She barely remembered much of the days that immediately followed Nanu’s demise, only that they flew by in a daze. Vihaan had handled everything for the funeral, including strong-arming thepriest into keeping silent while she lit the cremation pyre instead of a male relative. No androcentric practice would keep his wife from saying farewell to her grandfather, he’d growled, ready to fight for the closure he knew she needed. Every moment of that first week had been with Vihaan’s presence around her, hovering nearby in case she needed him, lovingly bullying her into eating, watching over her as she slept and shadowing her as she learned to exist without her grandfather.
He was thereallthe time. Until he suddenly wasn’t.
With their friends and her in-laws around for support, she’d been overwhelmed with their complete acceptance of her. Now that she had more moments of clarity, she recognised what a blessing it was to be loved like this. To have a community to lean on in times of need. She’d done everything alone for so long, believing no one would be able to shoulder her burdens with her, that to be proven wrong during such trying times was as startling as it was freeing.
Each night, Vihaan would hold her, let her grieve, kiss her, murmur words of strength and care, often making love to her so slowly, so preciously, that she’d slide into an exhausted slumber right after. She would wake up to a cold, empty bed however, and a long-gone husband who would once more return only at night to comfort her in the confines of their room. Five weeks later, everyone had left, and Vera was slowly coming to terms with the loss of her grandfather. What she couldn’t fathom was how she had somehow lost her husband too.
She had thought this would happen earlier, if it had to. Before she’d let him get close again. Before she’d lost Nanaji. Ever since the post-death rituals were complete, Vihaan had changed. He managed to be with her and still remain distant. Did he regret marrying her so hastily? He’d made umpteen promises, but had he changed his mind already? Questions like these had given rise to insecurities in her, causing her no little aggravation.
Life’s uncertainties had been laid bare before them. A person who’d been physically present a few weeks ago had become a memory, never to occupy anything more than space in her mind and heart. Death was inevitable. She knew that. Experiencing loss and grief had given her a new perspective, however. She had no business wasting time holding on to her feelings for fear of being disappointed again.
Thirty-one years of life with Nanaji and his love still felt too short. She knew herself enough to recognize that the rest of her life with Vihaan’s love would still not be long enough. The kind of affection she craved, even when she wasn’t able to express it in words, Vihaan understood it.
She’d given space to her hurt, to her fears and ego, refusing to believe he’d changed. She’d rejected him, repeatedly. Stubbornness and anger were her weaknesses, her grandfather had often warned. But they had also served her as an armour when she was at her lowest. Vihaan, with his indomitable patience, had managed to obliterate those shields. She trusted him, and losing Nanu had catapulted her into a full acceptance of just how deeply she loved him.
If only she could catch her sneaky husband and tell him this. She was going to go absolutely insane if she had to wait any longer.
Day after day, these emotions bubbled furiously in her, and day after day, she had to stuff them back in because Vihaan was either not home, or in a rush to go somewhere. He’d been working so much, often citing some new project or a client meeting, that Vera was starting to wonder if he was taking on projects just to avoid her.
She shook the paranoia off, determinedly rolling each suitcase out into the hallway.
Enough was enough. Her patience was at an end. The confession she’d wanted to make to him was ready to burst forth like air from a burgeoning balloon. The time for romantic settings and flowery admissions was long gone. At this point, he’d be lucky if she didn’t yell the words at him. Or punch him.
“What is going on here?”
Vera startled, glancing up to see a furious Vihaan lumbering down the hallway.
“Why are there bags in the hall? Are you trying to leave?”
“Wh—” Her eyes narrowed when she caught the barely hidden panic in his expression. In the distant corner, she saw one of the staff peeking at them, hurriedly rushing off when she made eye contact. “Someone called you?”
“Should they not have? Where are you packing to go?”
Go? Her gaze dropped to the mess of suitcases nearby. Oh. Just as quickly as she made that connection, she relaxed her brows, her shrewd mind finding a new route to torture the truth out of him.
“I’m going home,” she lied, heading back into the privacy of their bedroom, trying hard not to react when the door slammed shut behind her.
“Thisisyour home.”
“I’m going tomyhome,“ she reiterated, facing him slowly. “Now that Nanu is gone, I don’t see any reason for us to continue being together.”
She almost felt terrible for the way Vihaan went white, the stillness in his body telling her that he’d stopped breathing. The vein at the side of his head popped dangerously, his jaw flexing like he was having a hard time swallowing after hearing her ask for a break.
“I should have known you’d do something like this,” he mumbled under his breath. “I thought I could put it off by staying away.”
Brows furrowed, she scrunched her nose. “What?”