Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 148 - I Really Want To

“You’re here, sitting beside me now. Why should I be jealous? That girlfriend of yours should be the one getting jealous.” Mahira casually opened the lunch box and placed a pair of chopsticks next to it. “Eat up. I just bought
this from a restaurant.”

Parth saw Mahira’s nonchalant, couldn’t-care-less attitude, and felt a thrill of desire. Somehow, she always knew exactly how to push his buttons…

Parth hurriedly wolfed down his lunch, and soon had Mahira join him in an “afternoon nap.”

…

“Sir, here are the photos from the past few weeks.” Harsh, Sidharth’s orderly, placed a stack of photos on Sidharth’s desk—shots of Parth and Mahira being “intimate.”

“What are you going to do? Will you be sending these to Sana?”
Sidharth had a cigarette in his hand. He sifted through the photos with his free hand as he said impassively, “Why would I do that? She’s underage. She’s not old enough to see these things.”

As long as Parth did not go to America, Sidharth did not see the need to intervene. Besides, Shehnaaz had chosen Parth herself. It did not matter if he was the scum of the earth—she would have to discover the fact for herself. Some lessons had to be learnt the hard way.

Shehnaaz  would have to learn how to navigate the uncharted territory of love on her own.

Sidharth could not help her with that.

He tossed the photos into a special drawer, locked it, and waved Harsh out of his study.

September was drawing to a close. C City was currently in the middle of an Indian Summer; it had gotten increasingly warm over the last several days.

Sidhqrth sat quietly.

His tall, sturdy figure filled his high-back office chair. The hard, unyielding expression on his achingly beautiful face seemed to drift in and out of the lingering cigarette smoke.

The last rays of the setting sun filtered into the room through the gaps in the blinds; they painted a series of lines upon the floor, an intangible ladder that no one would ever be able to climb.

“Sir?” Rohit knocked on the door of the study.

Sidharth stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Come in.”

“Oh geez—how many cigarettes are you smoking a day now?” Rohit’s nose wrinkled at the overpowering smell of tobacco in the room. He tried to wave the lingering smoke away as he asked anxiously, “Is something bothering you?”

“I’m fine.” Sidharth pointed to the chair before him.

“Sit. Did you have something to report?”

“Really? Nothing’s bothering you? Okay then.” Rohitsat down. A wide grin spread across his face. “I just bumped into Harsh. I heard that he took some… um… very
interesting photos, so I came over to… broaden my horizons. You know, to help with my anti-seduction training.”

Sidharth opened the drawer and tossed the photos of Parth and Mahira to him. “Knock yourself out. He looks like a scraggly, plucked chicken. I don’t think the photos will do anything for your anti-seduction training, but maybe they’ll help increase your immunity to nausea.”

Rohit eagerly slid the photos over. He kept up a running commentary as he looked them over, one by one: “Well, he is kind of pale, and not exactly rippling with muscles, so you’re right, he looks like a naked chicken. The
woman, on the other hand, is smokin’ hot. And boy can she pull off some really difficult positions—she must be what they call an ‘old driver’.”