Dr Awasthi was quite pleased with Rohan’s progress and gave instructions for his discharge the next day. Ramya rushed to share the good news and Rohan was ready to celebrate.
‘Coffee on the terrace?’
She gladly agreed and soon they were sitting in their usual spot, paper cups in hand, breeze in their hair.
‘I had never thought that I would come to love this syrupy coffee so much.’ Rohan laughed, but Ramya seemed lost in her own thought. Clearing his throat, Rohan continued, ‘You know, these coffee conversations have helped me heal at so many levels. I was so focused on my failure that I had lost all sense of possibilities. The childhood memories reconnected me with who I really am.’
Taking a pause, Rohan sipped on some coffee and glanced at Ramya. Immediately, his expression softened out of affection for this lovely girl whom he had never valued before. ‘You shared so many incidents with me, Ramya, always painting me as the hero! It helped me view myself differently—someone with a lot of promise, talent and blessings. This is who I am, even today. I just need to believe this and create a new dream! How can I ever thank you for bringing the spark back?’
Rohan looked at her with such tenderness that she felt unsettled.
But Ramya had made up her mind—now or never!
‘You know what, Rohan? I didn’t paint you as a hero—I truly believed you were one. And you knew that I hero-worshipped you, didn’t you?’
Oblivious to what was brewing inside her, Rohan nodded.
‘Is that why you called me a pet poodle, always wagging my tail at you?’ Her tone changed, and so did their expressions. ‘Is that why you read the secrets from my diary and made fun of me in front of your friends?’
Ramya’s face went red with anger while Rohan’s face was white like ash.
‘Is that why you bragged to your friends that you could have me any day—just that I wasn’t your type?’
Rohan sat with his head in his hands, too ashamed to look at Ramya. Eventually, when he found his voice, it was a mere whisper. ‘Oh God, you had this inside of you all along and still cared for me with such warmth . . .’
He fell silent and Ramya couldn’t hold back her tears. She had hoped to feel light after the outburst, but Rohan’s reaction had taken her by surprise. She had expected him to outright deny everything, and here he was, worried about how she must have felt through all of this!
After what seemed like eternity, when Rohan finally looked up, his face mirrored Ramya’s agony. ‘I wish I could go back in time and undo this, Ramya. I am so sorry, so ashamed of what I did. I don’t want to blame it on booze or my age; nor do I want to dismiss it as locker-room talk. I take the blame. I was a self-absorbed jerk!’
Ramya was struck by Rohan’s honesty, courage and the sheer grace to accept his folly without any ego or justification.
‘After insulting your feelings with such cheap talk, I don’t even know how to ask for forgiveness. I wish I could free you of the hurt you’ve carried all these years, Ramya.’
When their eyes met, Ramya saw her own pain roll down Rohan’s cheek as a disobedient tear.
In that moment, she knew that she hadn’t connected with anyone as deeply before.
Ramya woke up thinking about Rohan, just like old times. She had a compelling urge to protect him, help him create a new dream. Oh God, was she falling in love with him all over again?
Rohan woke up with mixed feelings. His heart was heavy with remorse for hurting Ramya, yet he was ready to fly. Ramya’s tenderness, her smile, her touch, her warmth—everything about her made him feel alive! He wanted to take life head-on and figure out a new path.
Oh God, was he falling in love? Was he chasing another dream that may not come true?
She was twenty-eight; and he was thirty. They had both been touched by something pure and beautiful. And yet they were terrified of acknowledging it.
22
Our Story
Garima Bohra
As we were about to enter the enormous silver-polished gates of the classic Kubergarh Resort, my husband pulled me aside and tried to explain for the hundredth time . . .
‘Look, it was a mistake, okay? And mistakes do happen. I mean, the names were the same, and that’s why I got confused, which ultimately led to the exchange of orders.’
‘Enough, Omi! You say one more word about that incident and I will walk out of this goddamned party!’ I threatened him.
‘Okay, fine. But can you smile? For me, please . . .’ Omi said sheepishly.
His earnest request could not move me. I shrugged and walked in, holding my clutch tight to divert my anger.
The venue was magnificently spruced up with delicate white lilies and stunning pink gerberas. Lights shimmering from the giant chandeliers made the floor glitter like gold. For a second I stared around in awe, feeling fascinated. It was a bash to celebrate the success of one of the beauty products Omi’s company had launched a month back. Apart from the regular employees, the hall was full of well-known socialites and top models. Many people had gathered in thick packs around the rich and famous, trying hard to make connections.
We headed to the corner where Omi’s friends were waiting for us with glasses of wine already clutched in their hands. The regular chit-chat and random jokes were circling around the table but a strange uneasiness enveloped me . . . The ear-bursting loud music began to cause the veins in my head to pound.
‘Do you want something?’ Omi sounded concerned as I stood up.
‘Just need some fresh air. I will be back soon.’
‘Wait, I will come with you.’
‘No, you stay with your friends. I won’t take long,’ I said, dismissively.
‘Please don’t be mad at me for all that happened today,’ Omi whispered in my ear.
I could not help rolling my eyes as I pushed him back into his chair and walked out into the garden.
The cool breeze was soothing. There was a juice bar under a freshly flowered nagchampa tree and I ordered some fresh orange juice for myself and gulped down half of it thinking about the eventful morning.
I had been fervently preparing and packing large orders of sweets, cookies and cupcakes with my staff for the past twenty-four hours for two of my important clients, who had been regulars since the early days of my catering business. And once, just once, I had asked Omi to deliver the packages. And what did he do? He switched them! This had never happened before. Both the customers, who used to write exceptionally good reviews on my website, dropped pretty harsh comments this time, pointing out how my business was becoming ‘INEFFICIENT’ and me ‘CARELESS’ with time.
And these blots were pretty difficult to erase from a customer’s memory.
In the seven years of our marriage, Omi had tested my patience, sometimes more than our two beautiful children. His casual approach towards all things in life had always driven me crazy. He ate without caring about the extra layer of fat depositing around his waistline, wore the most mismatched clothes, scattered his files and papers everywhere in the bedroom, watched television shows at three in the morning, slept all afternoon on Sundays, pampered the children with ice cream and chocolate, forgot to ask for bills at stores, paid the maid in advance . . . the list was endless. But today, because of him, my reputation had received a blow. A bout of anger overwhelmed me and as I saw him through the glass wall, I felt like snatching the plate of snacks from him and dumping all of it on his head and punching him on his fat belly!