The Arrangement

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Is It a Happy Ending?

When I was a little girl, my dad used to call me 'my son'. I'd help him in the garage, wrinkling my nose when my mother would ask for help in the kitchen. I would stick close to dad's side. Help him in the garage, help him in the backyard, eager to show him what I could do.

"You're the son I never had," he'd say at nights.

And I was eager to be just that. A son. I needed to make up for something. I hated everything to do with being a girl. I spent most of those years as a tomboy. And then I grew, and as I did, my femininity began to show. My chest and hips grew, I hit puberty. The rules changed for me.

"Go help your mother," my dad would say.

"Don't sit with your legs splayed like that!" my mom would snap.

"Help me in the kitchen so you can cook for your husband one day."

"Stay away from boys, okay?"

Somewhere along the way, a barrier formed between my dad and me. And that barrier was gender. I could talk to my mom about my period, and the things my body did, and we discussed topic like cooking and clothes and makeup. With my dad a silence had formed.

One day I'd asked my mother, "Why didn't you two try for a son after me?"

But I answer knew the answer before she said it, "We tried. I couldn't get pregnant again. We had you late."

Soon after that, out of nowhere, I'd said to my dad, "I wish you'd had a son instead of me."

Dad didn't say he was glad he had me, or that I was everything he wanted, things would've probably been different if he felt that way. He had simply laughed.

It took some time to recover the bodies from both vehicles. Darshan and Kunj, of course, didn't mourn the people he had been trying to murder- someone's daughter, someone's nephew or niece- they mourned the son as his mangled body was pulled from the wreckage because he had been, in the end, a son.

One year later

It was a clear and breezy afternoon in Salt Lake City when I knocked on their door. The house was just as I remembered it, but the front lawn had grown to the ankles, the grass turning brown. The second car parked on the driveway was just as brown and dusty.

Seconds ticked by, and I began to doubt that she would answer. Just as I debated whether to knock again or leave, it opened.

More wrinkles had formed on my mothers face since the last time I saw her being dragged out of Kunj's house by my dad. Her eyes were sunken in, crescent dark shadows sitting beneath them. She was as shocked to see me as I had hoped she would be.

"Aditi..." the name was a whisper, as if she thought she would never speak that name again.

My calm face masked a whirl of emotions. I raised an eyebrow. "Can I come in?"

A minute later, we were seated across from each other at the dining table where, for years, the three of us had sat together and eaten dinner as a family. Mom wrung her hands together, her eyes darting everywhere except to me until they accidentally landed on my hands, where a small diamond ring glinted on my finger. I splayed my fingers, showing it to her.

"We got married just a month ago." Because that's how long it had taken for us to settle, to finally realize we could relax and not have to look over our shoulder all the time, for the nightmares to gradually lessen- not stop, just lessen. To not feel guilty for choosing to be happy.

I knew what the question in my mothers eyes were, and I answered it, "Yes, I married Farhan. My name is Aditi Shah now."

I took a deep breath. "I came tell you, that as much as I wish I could... I will never forgive you for what you did to me." Finally, she looked at me. I held her gaze. "Vivaan died trying to save to us. He dropped all of us off at the airport before leading that cop away from us." I hadn't been able to say to goodbye to Vivaan. We hadn't had time. We thought we'd see him again. Whether in America or India, we just thought we'd be able to thank him for what he did. Preeti had stayed in India. She told us she would take her aunt away to a new city and and the two of them would live together and that was exactly what she did. We still kept in touch. Farhan and I had come back to Salt Lake, bringing Nabhitha with us. And now, I was pregnant, just a couple of weeks in.

Very often you hear about forgiveness, about letting go and moving on. I'd wondered if I could do it. I thought about it for a long time, and finally, I knew I couldn't. Forgiveness had to be deserved.

"You married me into that family," I said to her.

"I was scared for you."

"And so you ruined my life," I stated bluntly.

A wrinkle formed between her brows. "Please, Aditi," she whispered. And some of my steel resolved faded. "When we heard your body wasn't found at the crash site, we knew you were still alive. I kept hoping you were somewhere far away. Somewhere safe."

I could tell her I forgive her. I could tell her I was a pregnant and she could be happy for me. We could forget about it.

I forced myself to remember that night. Kunj's blade pressed against my skin, all the men surrounding me, holding me down. If my body hadn't been in the crash, I would've been dead the night before, and everyone would call it suicide.

"That's not enough," I said. "You hope. You hope me marrying a stranger will fix everything, you hope moving into a family with such old thinking with fix me, you hope Kunj will fix me. It was always about fixing me. Nothing needed to be fixed about me. Your way of thinking, Dad's way of thinking, the way men treat women, the way you guys force your old ways on the newer generations- that is what needs to be fixed."

Mom's mouth was pressed in a straight line. She didn't say anything. I sighed. "I just came to see you one last time to tell you that. From now on, when you think of me, you can remember how I didn't forgive you. Farhan and I are leaving. Whether we're leaving Salt Lake or leaving the country, you'll never know. You can tell Dad I came to see you, and if you two ever speak to Kunj and the rest again, you can tell them Nabhitha is safe and well with us, and is being raised by her Muslim father and the mother they never got to murder. I'm also pregnant. I could've been giving you that great news under different circumstances, but now you'll never see your grandchildren. And I can promise you we'll do a damn better job raising them then you did me."

I watched her for a couple of seconds, wondering if she'll say anything. Tears had pooled in her eyes but she remained silent.

"Okay." I stood up.

Mom straightened, watching. "A-Aditi. Wait." I paused and turned. The two of us held each others gaze. Her mouth was open, trying to find the words. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry."

I nodded. "I know."

She followed me to the door. Outside, Farhan sat in our car, waiting. I had told him he didn't need to come with me, that I could do this on my own. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you have to," he'd said.

"Aditi, don't leave like this, please. At least wait for your father to come back home."

I kept my eyes on Farhan, he watched me too. My husband. And suddenly, I was eager to get back to him. To see Nabhitha again. "He is the last person I want to see," I said. "Take care of yourself, Mom. Bye."

I left her at the doorway and walked to the car, to Farhan, to freedom and love.

To a new life.