The Wrong Woman

67. Dhruv

Seeing her leave in a rickshaw leaving nothing but the trail of orange dust in their wake was enough to plummet my self-confidence. It was obvious she was lying. Her gaze was averted the entire time to avoid mine.

She was deliberately staying away for Rani's sake. And in her head, most probably mine, too. So I left, not wanting to overwhelm her already after two months of meeting.

Meeting properly, I should say.

She wasn't anything like Rani, but not in a bad way. Maybe it was because I was head over heels in love with this woman but after studying her properly, I was automatically attracted to her.

She was so beautiful that I was frozen on the bottom steps of the first floor, contemplating whether or not to go up, when I happened to see her come down.

Her hair was thick with curls that danced around her face and seemed to bounce with every step she took. Her face was small and round, but the fullness in her cheeks told me she was healthy and gave her a golden glow.

And when I'd wrapped my arms around her to stop her from falling, the delicate nose ring caught the dim light from the window downstairs and the soft sound that escaped those bottom-heavy pink lips sent a thrill in the form of goosebumps to slide along the back of my neck and down to a place that tightened my jeans...a place I'd rather not mention.

The way she had smelt...sandalwood took over my senses the moment I was wrapped up around her.

Even now, a few days later at the restaurant with the scent of various food, her scent lingered.

"Shit!" I cursed, dropping the knife and taking a look at my now bloody, cut finger. I cleaned it up, placed it under some cold water and chucked out the food I was cutting to redo it. I needed to focus on the meals.

Not Mouna.

Mouna. Now that was a name I needed to get used to saying, I thought. After I finished my shift for the day, I headed out when I saw Frankie sitting on top of the stone wall at the front. She pushed herself off it when she saw me and I handed her the lunch I'd made, wrapped in a plastic bag.

"As promised," I said, watching her dig through the contents.

"Mhm, smells so good! I'm starting to understand why you left us to be a chef."

"Hitting me with the compliments before you've even tried it? Good move."

She pushed my arm playfully and we both climbed into my sleek, black Mazda. "Congratulations, by the way." I raised my eyebrow, a laugh tittering at the edge of my lips. "I mean, for getting your driver's license and stuff not for what happened, obviously."

"I'm playing with you. I know what you mean." I shrugged. "What happened wasn't so bad, either. It was a long time coming."

I pulled the car out of the car park and drove into the noisy, congested road before turning the radio on to some talk show.

"How's Cookie doing?"

"Pretty good."

She cleared her throat. "Soo...has Sandra said anything about me?"

Sandra and Anish had gotten divorced a week ago. It was hard catching up with them because neither of them wanted to be there if the other was. And last I knew, Sandra didn't want to talk to Frankie ever again.

"You should leave it alone," I said, softly. "Let Sandra come to terms with it herself." I didn't know for sure if she ever would and the way things went told me it was unlikely to, but Frankie didn't need to know that. She was positive, and I didn't want to be the reason to kill it. "How've you been doing?"

"I think I'll be okay. What about you?" she asked. I held down the snort that was bubbling up. So that was what she was trying to play at.

"You're pretty cunning, aren't you?" I asked, sparing a side-glance at her.

"Answer my question!"

"I've never been better," I said, honestly.

After all, today was the day I wasn't going to take no for an answer.

***

The house was the same. The only thing that was different was that the only living person there besides Cookie was me. I cracked my head from side to side and glanced at the book left on the dining table. I'd reread it multiple times and even watched Devdas to get rid of the squeezing in my stomach.

Through these two months, I was comfortable in accepting what Rani had told me. I mean, I'd contemplated it the day it had happened, but it was the reason I was here today. Sure, Mouna had pretended like she didn't know me--or maybe she really didn't, I hadn't exactly figured that part out yet--but I had gone unprepared then. 

Today I was prepared. 

Now thinking about her, Mouna, not Rani, a grown man like me felt butterflies. Maybe not butterflies but for a lack of a better word that was how I could explain it. I felt thrilled to have a working heart that craved a woman that made me feel like my wants and needs were good enough. Everything reminded me of Mouna and I just wanted to see her again. After what I'd said and how I'd treated her, I didn't blame her for acting the way she did.

What scared me was if she really didn't want to see me. What if she didn't feel the same? She squealed and avoided my touch when she was Rani, which I understood, but even when I'd gone to see her, she acted like I was a plague she wanted to avoid.

That was either hatred or disgust or protectiveness for Rani...and even though a part of me knew I should be put off and respect what she wanted, I wanted to be selfish for once. Heck, spending time with her made me realise how much I was over Rani. And now that I had my life together, maybe this was the perfect time.

I played with Cookie for a while. "I'm going to try and bring your mom back to us," I mumbled, kissing him atop his head.

He didn't understand, obviously, but his wagging tail and the tongue that stuck out of his mouth told me that he may as well have. I made sure he was chilling nearby before I took a shower and got ready in my best clothes. I jogged on the spot and cracked my neck to ease the tense muscles and the nerves that bunched into a tighter knot as the minutes ticked by. It wasn't until I found myself outside her apartment door that realisation settled in me.

This was it.

I knocked.

An elderly woman with grey hair tied back into a low bun and a green saree with a red blouse opened the door. Her wrinkles deepened as she smiled, taking me in from head to toe. I tugged down the sleeves of my now-suddenly-suffocating red pullover sweater. Was I dressed down? I mean, I was meeting her grandmother for the first time and I probably looked like a complete nut. I needed to make sure I looked like I was worthy enough for her granddaughter.

She raised her eyebrows and that's when it became clear to me. I was a complete nut, standing there like a fool without introducing myself.

"I'm—" I cleared my throat to clear the hitch, "I'm Dhruv, an...acquaintance of Mouna's. Is there any way I could speak to her?"

"An acquaintance, you say?" She hummed and scanned me once again. I felt like I was being interrogated. I shifted from one foot to the other, unconsciously rubbing my hands against my denim jeans before taking comfort in shoving them into the front pocket. "I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"I'm hoping today will change that."

"And why is that?"

"If you let me inside, you'll see."

The grandmother didn't say anything and I swear I thought I saw a glint of amusement flicker across her beady eyes when she said, "I like you already. I'm Mohini, but you, my handsome son, can call me Mohi."

I laughed. It looked like I was going to like her, too.