■FEATURED ON WATTPAD'S OFFICIAL @dangerouslove ■
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In spite of having proven her exceptional business acumen, Arvika Deewan knows that to make the Board of Deewan Group of Companies vote in her favour for the position of CEO, she has to...
Delayed arrivals clogged up the exit gates at the Mumbai airport. The baggage claim isles were so congested that I was glad my last minute decision of flying to Punjab and back didn't spare me the time to pack anything more than my laptop.
The app on my phone displayed a series of numbers mapped to the cab that would drive me to the harbor. My thumb hovered over the call button, stopping the second my mind registered that voice.
"... haan, pohoch jaungi, baba," she said into her phone, "I'll ring you up once I reach the hotel."
My head whipped to follow her trail. She dragged a small bag behind her, phone held up against her ear by the other hand. Wild curls held together by a hair-tie, a dupatta coiled around her neck. A small moon-shaped birthmark on her elbow. I didn't realize I had called her name until she stopped in her tracks, and looked around, slightly distracted.
"Latika," I repeated, a strange feeling thrumming through my insides when her eyes finally met mine. They didn't widen in recognition, nor did they feign indifference. Hidden behind a pair of glasses, they acknowledged me like one does an unforgotten memory that they haven't made an effort to remember.
I walked the four steps towards her, my heart beating like I had run a marathon instead. May be I shouldn't have stopped her. I did not know how to react. I did not know what to say. But my mind was racing, leaking into everything of who she once was, and who she once was to me. The past that we had and the future that we suddenly did not, and of the lives that we dreamt of till it became something we couldn't fathom.
"Hey," she said finally.
And like a broken record, I chanted her name again, "Latika."
"Varun."
"I..." was at a severe loss of words, "uhm."
"Yeah," her lips curved as she nodded, looking down at her hands.
Her taxi awaited her, the line growing longer, rowdier by the second. A driver honked, passengers behind us let out irate strings of curses.
A man peeped out the window from his driver's seat. "Aye madame tum baithne wale kya yaha airport ka parking fee alag se dena padega, itna der nahi rukega idhar."
I cancelled my cab and lugged her suitcases into the boot.
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Breezy showers pattered against the glass window of the cafe. We sat across from each other, sharing a small round table that struggled to fit both our belongings. I pulled up another vacant chair and set my bag down.
Latika offered me a timid smile. "You have been doing well."
"You've been keeping track."
"I've tried not to. Teri headlines da track na rakh pana vi mushqil aa."
