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Fourty Four

Shehnaaz

Looks like Sidharth has tossed out his assistant. Appears she was the one who leaked the story.

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I look out into the distance at the hills. The breeze is starting to pick up, so I tuck my feet under me. For four days, if I wasn't in bed, I was out here. In four days, life as I knew it was over.

The day after I woke up from the nightmare, I drafted my letter of resignation. I wasn't expecting Shaila to answer, but she did, and she was actually angry with me for just leaving without notice. My phone never stopped ringing, and at one point, I couldn't take it and just disconnected the line.

There was no reason to have it anymore. I sat outside with Kripa, telling her how I would have to go back and somehow face the music. I heard from Megha who said that she tried to go over to my apartment but at least twenty paparazzi were waiting in the distance. So Kripa did what she knows how to do; she made shit happen. Well, not just Kripa but Dev also; the security firm he works for got me packed and moved out in I think they said twenty-five minutes. Now my stuff is in her garage, waiting for me to figure out where I go next.

Refusing to even think about it, I wrap my hands around my stomach when another cool breeze comes over. This thin sweater and scarf are helping just a bit. I hear the back door open and shut, but I don't turn around. I'm expecting Kripa to bring me coffee.

For the past four days, all she's been doing is making sure I don't collapse. She keeps cooking and sending Dev out with food. I hear the crunch of rocks under her feet. "You know, I could get used to the peacefulness here. I think I want to buy a house here."

"If you give me a chance, I'll buy you whatever you could possibly want." I hear his voice and blink my eyes. It can't be. No one knows I'm here, not even my family. I shake my head, not sure what is going on. Maybe I'm hallucinating. My head turns to the side in slow motion, and his face comes into view.

My heart starts beating faster than it ever has. I turn in my seat, and I stand. He doesn't move, and I look at him, and nothing, nothing is like I thought it was. The memories of him are nothing like the real thing. His eyes are darker than in my memories.

"What are you doing here?" My voice shakes while I ask him that question. I try to settle my heartbeat, but it's like pain ripping through me all over again. The burning now itching my eyes, the tears ready to come again. Today, I went a full three hours without a tear falling.
I look at him. He's beautiful, but it's nothing new. After all, he's Bollywood's golden boy. "I would have been here earlier if I knew you were here." I wasn't ready for the sound of his voice and what it would do.

I stand straight. "Maybe that should have been your first clue that I didn't want to see you." My hands start to shake now, so I clasp them together in front of me.

"Shehnaaz." My name on his lips is too much, and I shake my head when he comes forward as a tear rolls down my cheek."Please don't do this." I steady my voice, swallowing, but my lower lip quivering. "Just let it be. Let me be."

"How?" he asks, his voice quivering now. "How can I let you be when I can't breathe without you? How can I let you be when half of my soul is missing when I'm not near you? Tell me how, Shehnaaz, and I'll leave you and never come back." He doesn't give me a chance to answer, and I don't think I would have anyway because had I spoken, the sob I am trying to keep at bay would have roared out of me. "I will never forgive myself for putting you in this position. Never." His eyes fill with tears, and with one blink, they roll down his cheeks.

The need to go to him and wipe it away is so strong, I can't stop it. My hands itch to touch his face, to rub his chin and then his cheek, but something stops me. Whether it's from fear, hurt, or anger, it's bigger than me. "I took that picture for me without even telling you the morning in Paris after that disaster on the red carpet." I swallow as I watch him pour his heart out to me, his chest rising and falling. "I think it was then I knew I was in love with you," he says, and I gasp out now.

My hand covers my mouth, trying to stop the sob that rips through me. "I can't do this, baby." He shakes his head. "I can't not come to you and not touch you when all you've ever done since we started this was absolutely complete me." I stand in front of him with both hands on my face, trying not to sob, trying to breathe through the pain when I feel his arms around me.

My face pushes into his chest as my body shakes with sobs. "I'm so sorry." I feel his hands in my hair, his lips on my forehead. I don't know how long I stand here with his arms around my shoulders. "It's been torture," he whispers, "pure torture. I haven't slept in four days."

"Sidharth," I finally say, moving out of his arms when my breathing gets back to normal, or when I stop breathing heavily. "My whole life shattered. And I'm not even kidding about this." I take a breath. "I quit my job, and now they are suing me. I can't go back to my apartment. I've been dragged through the mud, to put it mildly. I've had my life exposed and all because you took a picture of us and someone hacked your phone."

"No," he says, and I stop talking. It can't be. He couldn't have done it. "You must not have seen the latest. It was Ila. I found out this afternoon and fired her."

"That fucking bitch," I hiss, angry now. "That fucking bitch," I repeat. "I should have known."

"No"—he shakes his head—"I should have known. She stepped over the line when it came to you, and I just didn't see it." He grabs my hand in his, his fingers rubbing over my knuckles. "I know that being with me is going to have its drawbacks, and it's going to be a nightmare, to say the least. The press will haunt you, but that is just a little part of me. The other part of me is the real me; the one who took you on that motorcycle ride, the one who rowed the boat and treated you to sushi, the one who introduced you to his parents." The memories are coming back. "I'm the one who woke up with you every morning. The one who held your hand while we walked around Paris, the one who lay in bed with you watching Bigboss even if I don't get it. That is who I really am."

"I don't know if I can," I tell him honestly. "I don't know if I can do it." He nods his head at me. "I get it." He brings my hand to his mouth. "Thank you, Shehnaaz, for giving me the best thirty days I've ever had." He drops my hand. "Be good, Shehnaaz." He smiles at me, the smile not reaching his eyes, and he turns and walks away from me. I watch him walk up the step and through the door, the window clattering when he closes the door. I don't know how long I watch the door, but the next person to come out is Kripa.