“Bullshit.”
“You want the house, the kids, the annual trips to the Caribbean.”
“So? Who doesn’t?”
“Me.” Her eyes welled with tears. “At least not yet. I haven’t lived a life yet. I’m not ready to settle.”
“Well, by all means,” I said, rising to my feet and pushing in my chair. “Don’t let me keep you from living your life. But don’t come crawling back to me when some douchebag gives you an STD, all right? Because I’m done letting you waste my time.”
She reached across the table and grabbed my sleeve. One tear drifted down her reddened cheek as she pulled at the cotton fabric, which brushed harshly against my skin. “Don’t go, not like this.”
“Why not? Like you said, Trup, it’s over. So go live your goddamn life.”
“I don’t understand. You two were meant to be.” Mom’s hand shook as I reluctantly placed her mother’s ring in her palm.
“Apparently not, Mom.” I shook my head, fighting the emotions inside of me. It was the next morning, and with my tail between my legs, I’d landed on my parents’ doorstep to return my nani’s ring. I couldn’t stand to have it with me any longer. I had to give it back in order to close this chapter of my life and move on. Somehow. Without the ring, I thought I could have a fighting chance.
“But you got her parents’ permission, right? Why would she say no?”
“I never got to ask her, Mom. She dumped me before I even had the chance.”
Mom placed her hand on the back of my neck and pulled me in tight. “Oh pyaare bete,” my mom breathed into my ear, rubbing my back. She reserved this term of endearment, sweet boy, for the hardest moments of my life like when I broke my arm falling off my bike or when my dog died or the day I wasn’t accepted to Stanford. And now, when my heart was shattered by the one girl I thought I’d be with forever. I closed my eyes tightly as I wrapped my arms around her waist, sinking into her shoulder, looking for comfort that she, nor anyone, could ever possibly bring.
“I lost her, Mom. She’s gone.”
Warm tears dripped from my mom’s cheeks and landed on my neck. My pain was her pain and in that solidarity, I felt a sliver of comfort, of peace. For how long it would last, I had no idea.
“Can you tell Nani for me? I just can’t do it.” I pulled away, placing my hands on my mom’s elbows, unable to meet her gaze. “I know she’ll be heartbroken. She fell in love with Trup last fall.”
“I remember. But she won’t want to hear it from me. And she’ll want to know that you’re all right.”
“Please, Mom. You know I don’t ask you for a lot.”
She nodded, her eyes conflicted and troubled. “What about your father?”
“What about him?”
“Will you tell him? He’ll be home in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“And your brother and sister?”
“Mom, yes, okay? I’ll tell everyone…eventually.”
“Okay.” She looked relieved. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes were damp with tears. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed before patting me on the back. “It will be okay. Are you hungry?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “Don’t feel like eating.”
“But you love my food. You have to eat. I won’t allow her to crush your spirit.” My mom took so much pride in her cooking, to refuse her was an insult. But I was too destroyed to spare her feelings.
“No one’s spirit is crushed, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “I stopped for something on the way over here.” Total lie and Mom knew it. She narrowed her eyes at me before gripping my shoulders.
She breathed in deeply, widening her eyes. “Why don’t we wait?’
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe we wait on telling Nani, your father…the rest of the family.”
“Why?”
“Give it some time. Maybe she’ll realize she made a big mistake.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Mom. I’m not.” I pressed my lips into a thin line. The pain that filled my gut the night before was slowly turning numb, and it was spreading to every part of me. “It’s over. Please just tell Nani.”
“I’m holding on to this,” she said, holding up the ring. “No arguments.”
“Mom, c’mon, listen to me—”
“Nani wants you to give this to your wife. Maybe you’re right; maybe that’s not going to be Trupti, but you will fall in love again.”
“Yeah, well…” I sighed, unable to imagine anyone ever measuring up to my girlfriend of six years. My love, my life, my world. How could anyone possibly make me feel the way she did? “Again, just don’t hold your breath, okay, Mom? I know I’m not.”
Mom’s eyes looked pained. She nodded and walked into the kitchen. “Sit down. I’m making you something to eat.”
“Mom—”
“No more arguments, Devanshu.” Mom was pulling out all the stops. She rarely used my full first name. I put up my arms in surrender. She laughed, all too proud of herself, and walked to the pantry to grab a canister of rice.
“Khichdi?” I asked, just the thought of my favorite comfort food revived my appetite. The rice-and-lentil dish had soothed me too many times to count over the years. Mom could make it for me any time of day or night and I would happily clean my plate. Trupti had attempted to make it for me once when I was sick, but it couldn’t touch my mom’s. No one’s could.
“Just sit.” She winked and pulled a pot from the cabinet. If anyone could try to nurse my broken heart, it was my mom…and her khichdi. And the least I could do was to be a good son and let her try.
Chapter 1
DEV
Two years later…
“Wake up, sleepy head,” she whispered into my ear, and I moaned.
“Not yet.” I waved her away with a smile on my face.
“Dev, it’s time to wake up.” Her warm hands ran up my legs, and she dragged her fingernails against my skin. Goosebumps rose to meet her touch.
“Not fair,” I said with a laugh. “You know I can’t resist those nails.”
“Good. Then you’ll actually get out of bed. You haven’t even packed yet.”
“Neither have you.”
Silence.
Shit.
That silence woke me up. I rolled over to stare at her beautiful face, but a sense of dread built in my gut. I knew this wasn’t going to end well.
“Okay, now you have my attention.”
“I can’t go.” She bit down on her bottom lip—her attempt to seem distraught, conflicted. But I knew better.
I sighed loudly, pressing my hand to my forehead and closing my eyes. “Trupti…”
“I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Her tone was cold. “I have too much work to do. It’s a bad time for me to go away.”
“We’ve been over this. C’mon, Peter and Scott promised to play nice. And your office isn’t even open until January third.”