He contemplated the swing, and the way it reflected on the water. It made him sad, that swing. Perhaps because there was only room for one person, not two.
They’d had a swing set when he was a child. His parents had set it up in their backyard. It was weird, their house had been small, but Dev’s world had felt bigger then. There had been no expectations about what careers they might enter, no press salivating over their missteps or triumphs, no one pitting brother against brother on metrics that didn’t matter. He’d pushed Rohan on that swing. If he listened carefully, he could hear his little brother squealing with joy.
Was that his breathing coming harder and faster? The sudden wetness at his eyes stunned him, and he sat up straight. What was wrong with him?
“Dev?”
Pull yourself together. Men don’t act like this. His father had drummed that into him. He’d been a kind father, but not one to tolerate his sons weeping over an injury that wasn’t fatal.
“Dev?”
Horror ran through him, mingling with panic. No, no. The only thing worse than spiraling out was having Jia see him so weak. He opened his mouth to assure her he was fine, but nothing came out.
Her beautiful heart-shaped face came into view. Were the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose natural or makeup? He hadn’t noticed them before.
Jia’s small hand came to a fluttering rest on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said, confident and calm. “You’re having a panic attack. I’ve seen this before.”
He shook his head frantically. He was not. He’d tell her that as soon as he could speak, too.
“Match my breathing.” She inhaled loudly, then exhaled.
Automatically, without conscious effort, he mimicked her, and she nodded. “Tell me something you feel.”
Dev took another deep breath, then another. His hand groped for hers on his shoulder and he squeezed.
“Good,” she said, like he’d spoken. “Now tell me something you see.”
“You,” he wheezed. Truly, it felt like there was no one else.
His breathing gradually regulated, growing calmer. His heartbeat slowed from the gallop it had taken off on. He squeezed his eyes shut, though he didn’t want to stop looking at her face. As if she knew his struggle, Jia moved to sit next to him, plastering herself against his side. Dev dropped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight, something he would have never dared to do under normal circumstances.
When he felt more like himself, he opened his eyes, and was immediately hit with a truckload of mortification. What on earth had just happened?
He looked down at her. She was staring at the water, but glanced up. Her eyes were soft and calm. Her shirt was slightly rumpled, though he wasn’t sure if it was from him or the breeze.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes. I apologize. Nothing like that has ever occurred before.” He licked his lips, searching for an explanation.
“Please, there’s no need to apologize. Panic attacks happen.”
“Not to me.” He rubbed his chest. “Never. Especially out of nowhere like that.”
“Nothing triggered it?”
“No. I was simply looking at the swing and remembering the swing my family had when I was a child.”
“Do you think that did it?”
The muscles in his jaw worked. “I suppose.” He should move away, but he didn’t want to. The warmth that had filled him when she’d hugged him had come back. He hadn’t realized how cold he’d been.
“That’s natural, to miss them.”
“I miss my parents. I . . .” His greatest shame. “I don’t think I miss my brother as much as I should. I told you we weren’t close.” Sometimes it felt as though strangers had mourned Rohan more than he had.
“You don’t have to be close to someone to miss them. Or miss what they used to mean to you. It’s part of being alive, I suppose. To miss people, or to even miss missing people. Grief is like that sometimes. Like a bubble that gets big and small.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Miss missing people. Yes. That was exactly how he felt about his brother, and even his grandfather, to an extent. He missed the idea of a loving grandfather. He missed the brother he’d pushed on a swing. “I blamed Rohan.”
“For what?”
His words came fast, spilling over one another. “For adapting so easily to life with our grandparents, after our parents passed. He was so happy with the attention and, later, the fame. With the industry. With our last name greasing wheels, with our grandfather’s bullshit and money. Meanwhile, I would have traded all of that for our life with our parents, and I didn’t think he would have. It felt like he betrayed them and me, and that’s absurd.”
“Why is it absurd?”
“He was a child.”
“So were you.”
His chest tightened. “No, I was older. At the very least, I should have mended bridges with him when I was a grown adult.”
“You could have. He could have, too.” She paused. “Please don’t think it’s my anger over the catfishing driving me to bash him or anything, but it sounds like there was some resentment on both sides. Don’t take all the blame on yourself. It’s okay to have complicated feelings about someone after they pass away.”
He huffed out a breath. “I don’t like these feelings.”
“Oh, no one likes feelings.” Jia rubbed his arm. “Don’t you think we would all choose to be robots if we could?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You wouldn’t.”
“True. I do like pouring my emotions out on everyone. But I imagine those people wish I’d be a robot, sometimes.”
“I would not,” he said, gruffly.
She pressed slightly closer. “That’s nice to hear.”
Dev didn’t know how long they sat there, only that he was startled by how close her face was when he looked down at her. They were real freckles, he realized, charmed. Just a couple, over her nose.
He wanted to kiss them, trace every single one.
And it was that realization, coupled with the fact that they were sitting like lovers, that made him stiffen and lean away from her. “Should we . . . ?” His voice was hoarse to the point of unintelligible. “Shall we head out?”
“You want to see the rest of the place?”
Sure. Or at least, move out of temptation’s way. He would love very much to kiss her freckles, but that wasn’t possible. Not only because of gentlemanly courtesy, but because this was no normal courtship. Or a courtship at all, as far as she was concerned. “Absolutely. You wanted me to play photographer, yes?” Casually, Dev separated himself from Jia and came to his feet. She shaded her eyes.
“Sure. I think the place is easy to explore by foot, but let’s take the car.”
“Don’t want to be without transportation in case we come across those pitchfork-waving locals,” he teased, eager to get them back into their previous relationship.
“It’s quiet here! Freaks me out.” She came to her feet and shook out the blanket.
It was quiet. Dead silent, to be exact, with barely a breeze to make a sound. “City girl.”
She made a face. “I’m sorry, are you not a Mumbaikar who was raised in Dubai?”