The Rose & Her Thorn

Part 25

"I will help you."

Nikita's determined tone was in stark contrast with the tremulousness of her eyelids and the quivering of her lips. Her petite frame, draped in an exquisite chikankari lehenga, leaned against the desk, which her hands had clutched in a grip that turned her knuckles white.

The regal chandelier made the yellow light dance upon the occupants of the room. The fragrance of henna and the scented incense sticks could not lift their foul mood.

"Are you sure? Can you go against your brother?" asked Shikha, gazing at the lifesize picture of the siblings across the room.

Nikita almost gasped for air to ease the strangulation that the revelation had brought upon. The noose of remorse had tightened around her neck and the burden of agony weighed her chest down.

"Bhai and I had suffered in childhood, I agree. It does not mean I will let him have his way with an innocent woman. You don't deserve any of this, Bha-Shikha! Not just for your sake, but to prevent him from committing anymore sins in his blindness, I will help you."

Shikha's eyes darted back to Nikita. Her icy gaze burned the woman across her in the flame of repentance. Shikha's frozen features made gusts of chilly winds wash over the fresh wounds on Nikita's conscience.

"Great! So, we wait for him to surrender to the state government and disbanding of his troops. Once he is bereft of his influence and power, you will help to escape from this cage," she said, rubbing her henna-clad hands together to remove the dried henna from her hands.

Vikram had announced his decision to surrender to the state government and demand for immunity for himself and his family in return for valuable information about the underground workings and help in incarcerating the other mafia kingpins. The ecstasy brought upon by his news lasted only until the truth behind the announcement bombarded Nikita.

"How will you escape his suspicion? What will you do until he relinquishes his influence?" asked Nikita, gulping the tears.

Shikha's crimson lips stretched out to an uncanny smile that did not reach her eyes.

"I'll act. He is not the only one who can weave a masterful charade."

Sunaina clutched Rajeev's hand as tears poured out of her swollen eyes. "He ruined my baby sister. The streaks of shrewdness he had left behind because of his tactics tarnished her innocence. He ruined her!"

The gusts of wind through the open window carried her hoarse whisper to ears of a broken sister, shattering her heart further. A stifled sob escaped her maroon lips as the splinters from the desk pierced through her palm.

How she wished to refute the claim, but alas, she knew it was true. Her brother had left a rose bleeding and tainted.

_______________________________________________________

"It could be awkward to work for me after the sudden announcement of our marriage and then postponement. Are you sure you want to work?" asked Vikram, leaning against his car as he stood across Shikha.

"I can't stop doing what I want to do because of what others are going to say. Onlookers will have a lot to say. I cannot deny that, but I am used to it now. Are you going to stop me from doing what I want?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye, almost daring him to stop her.

Her newfound confidence startled Vikram. He could see in her demeanor and nonchalant, but confident, stance that something had changed. He wished it was his confession that had brought about the changes and compelled her to show her determined side.

"Of course not! That many people might not be kind towards you for what happened concerned me! I know being able to accomplish something means a lot to you. I meant it when I said you have a lot of potential in you, Shikha. Every time. You'll grow to great heights!" he said, smiling at her.

A wry smile made its way to her lips. Her navy blue kurta flew in the gusts of wind, but she could not care less. Another deceit of his, she thought, eying him with a steely gaze.

The tense silence that had befallen them made Vikram sigh in exasperation. She did not trust him, and he knew it. His confession had merely boosted her morale and ability to retaliate against him, not erased the complaints etched into the deep realms of her heart.

He clasped her hands between his and eyed her with a desperation that rivalled an ailing patient, seeking the elixir of life from his physician.

"I know you don't believe it when I say that. I don't have anyone else, other than me and the demons of my past, to blame for that, and I know it. I am sorry. For everything."

Shikha nodded and attempted to pull her hand from his grip when his eyes fell on his name amidst the intricate designs of her palm.

"I did not know you got my name drawn in your Mehndi!" he said, caressing his name, which filled him with a pride of a greater intoxication than those many times they splayed it across newspapers.

"It is not like I had much of a choice there. My hands are red with henna, so that you would not turn them crimson with the blood of my own. Not by my choice. Neither the henna, nor the name concealed in it," she said.

Her condescending gaze and her mocking tone made a shiver run down his spine. He was not sure which burned him more - her silence of the previous day or her words in that painful hour.

"I hope there comes a day you will celebrate the application of the same henna in your hands and write my name by your choice, and it's a promise that I will strive to ensure that day is not too far. You will never have to do anything against your wish for me, Shikha! And that's a promise!"