The Wrong Woman

26. Dhruv

Instead of going back and having to face Rani and...her strange self, I decided to go over to Anish's. I sent her a text saying:

Me: 'I'll be at Anish's for dinner. Text me if you need me.'

It was Sandra that had opened the door and she smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Got tired of Indian Barbie already?"

"Shouldn't I be saying that to Anish?" I retorted. She slapped my arm and I pushed her aside and waltzed in. I had been over to their house multiple times even before I'd gotten married to Rani; they were my second family of sorts.

"Who doesn't like Barbie? Blonde, beautiful--" Anish cut himself off as he turned the corner and headed toward me. He glanced at his wife next to him before pulling me into a hug. Neither of them questioned why I was there. They let me be and I didn't bother telling them anything, either.

"Is Sandra complaining about Rani, again?" whispered Anish in my ear as he guided me toward their living.

"It's all done in love," I said, chuckling. We all knew Sandra didn't actually hate Rani; she worshipped the ground Rani walked on. She just loved to tease me about my issues with her which gave her some sort of sadistic joy, I guessed. I studied their home which had changed quite a bit since the last time I was there. The walls were painted dark red and they had replaced the white, almost furry couch, with plain, brown ones. Hung on the walls were small artworks Sandra had designed herself with marble queen pothos' hung purposefully between each one.

I eyed the movie that had been playing — 'The Blind Side'—before I'd interrupted.

"Sorry about crashing your movie night," I said, pointing toward the TV hung up on their black wall.

"Nah, I was nodding off, anyway," said Anish, shoving the bowl of popcorn my way. "Popcorn was the only thing keeping me up."

"Yeah, finishing my dinner," Sandra mumbled as she hurried down the hall after placing a cardigan over her spaghetti-strapped top. She sat down on the couch opposite where Anish sat.

"Dinner?" I repeated. I glanced from the popcorn and back over to her. "That was dinner?"

"Anish didn't want to cook and neither did I."

"You still have that 'junk food once a month' rule?"

"Totally."

I pushed myself up off the sofa, watching as they both looked up at me with owl-like eyes. "Then I'm going to use your kitchen. That okay?"

"Oh no you don't," spluttered Anish, stepping in my way. "You're not here to cook for us."

"This is what you wanted, right? For me to be a chef?" I swerved my way around him and headed toward the U-shaped kitchen right behind the couches. "So let me do my thing."

I heard him following me. "I meant at the restaurant. Not here."

"If you don't want me cooking at your place, fine. But if your reasoning for it is because you don't want me to go to the trouble of cooking for the both of you, then don't bother. Why're you treating me like I'm a guest?"

"Okay, okay, geez. I just—" he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"What? I'd appreciate it if you didn't tiptoe around me. I'm not glass."

"We're just worried about you," confessed Sandra, flopping her arms in the air. "We don't know what to do."

I stayed silent, getting out the few ingredients they had in their fridge before I finally managed to say,  "You don't need to do anything. This is between me and Rani and whatever happens, I'll be okay. It's not like I'm alone."

Anish slapped me on the back. "That's true. You got two amazing friends who'd give their life for you."

"One of whom faints at the mere sight of blood, " I said, letting the sarcasm drip from my tongue as Sandra snickered, "so I'm sure that would work out just fine."

"Fuck off."

I chuckled under my breath but it left as soon as it had begun. I wanted to believe my words before. But even as I said them and tried to be them, it didn't work.

"What're you making?" Sandra asked, eagerly looking over my shoulder.

"Chicken and broccoli rigatoni."

"Ooooh sounds fancy!"

Anish snorted, playing with the packet of cherry tomatoes. "I taught him how to make that."

I eyed him as I boiled some water. "Is that how you got Sandra to marry you? By lying? No wonder you scored big." He flipped his finger at me.

Sandra cleared her throat. "By the way, Dhruv. Anish said you don't want to be a chef again?" I stiffened. She must have noticed because she quickly added, "I get that you don't want to go back, but how about being an animal attendant? My best friend was talking about how her aunt was looking for someone to work part-time at their clinic. Want me to put in a word for you?"

An animal attendant.

How many years had it been since I'd even touched an animal? I thought. Not since Rani and I...damn. The past few years of my life seemed to only revolve around her. What had I ever done for myself? Had I done anything at all?

"Uh, yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I'd love a job as an animal attendant." Anything would do. As long as I wasn't sitting in that house remaining static.

Sandra's face brightened and Anish shot her a thumbs up that he probably thought was inconspicuous. Even though he had been forcing me to get back to cooking again, seeing the both of them there trying to figure out how to make me happy made me want to be myself again.

It made me realise that I wasn't alone in this. And whatever was happening with Rani, I could face it.