Everyone Has a Story 2

by Savi Sharma

  ‘You listen to me,’ I ordered firmly. ‘We’ll find a way to rebuild Musafir AND Kafe Kabir. This is not the end, Vivaan. My advance will come through and we’ll live carefully. Maybe you and I should think about moving in together, so we only have one set of bills to think about.’

  He shook his head and took a deep breath. ‘You know I would love us to move in together, but not because I’ve failed.’

  ‘You have not failed.’

  He barked out a bitter laugh that stabbed at my heart like a pin trying to pop a balloon. ‘What would you call it, Meera? This is hardly a success. My . . . my company was barely born before it died.’

  ‘But that wasn’t your fault!’ I cried desperately. Suddenly, I was afraid, very afraid. Vivaan was so distraught, so disappointed in himself. I needed to make him see he was not a failure . . . otherwise. . . He wouldn’t try to run away again, would he? Or worse?

  Vivaan pushed himself up on the sofa angrily. ‘How can you say that? This is all my fault.’

  A cold wave washed over me. ‘You’re not saying those drugs were yours. . .’ I couldn’t even believe the words were coming out of my mouth.

  ‘NO!’ he said sharply.

  ‘Then what are you talking about?’ I asked.

  ‘I took this risk. I wanted to start that company. I FAILED.’ By then, he was breathing hard and the tears were falling, unchecked, down his face. They seemed like angry tears to me, though, and for a minute, I relaxed. Angry was better than broken.

  Vivaan pushed himself off the couch. ‘I think I need to go home,’ he said.

  In turn, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed his arm. ‘Vivaan, stay. Please,’ I said desperately.

  He shook his head and swiped at his tears. ‘I need to think, Meera. I just need to be alone for a little while.’

  I sighed and nodded. ‘Will you call me when you get home? Just let me know you got home okay,’ I pleaded.

  He nodded, but I knew he wasn’t really in the room anymore. His thoughts had taken him elsewhere. I hugged him, and for the first time, I could tell he was just going through the motions as he let me hug him. When I finally let him go, his arms fell limply to his sides and he turned to leave.

  I rushed to the front window after he left and watched him leave the driveway, feeling like a part of that calm I was so carefully trying to maintain had fled with him.

  With a cry, I flung myself on the floor right beside my front door. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I let my own sadness overtake me, and I rocked myself back and forth until the tears subsided.

  The next morning, I didn’t picture Vivaan’s broken spirit when he left the police station. Instead, I relived the absent hug he had given me when we said goodnight.

  Resigned, I got up and brewed a cappuccino. I was on my second cup—this time without the sugar—when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and smiled. It was my publisher. Things were finally going to start turning around. I already imagined calling Vivaan with the news of our agreed-upon price for my new book.

  ‘Meera,’ I heard my publisher’s booming voice start, but I knew there was no good news in his tone. ‘Do you have a moment to speak?’

  ‘Of course,’ I responded nervously. ‘Is everything okay?’

  I heard him sigh heavily on the other line. ‘No, I’m afraid it isn’t. Meera, I just read a disturbing article in the newspaper.’

  Oh no. He heard about Vivaan.

  ‘I can assure you, Vivaan is innocent,’ I said quickly. My legs started to shake, and I sat down heavily on the chair behind my desk.

  ‘Whether he is or not is not the matter here,’ he said in return.

  I bit my lip. ‘What do you mean?’

  Another sigh. ‘Meera. I like you. You’re a very talented woman and your books have been a boon to our company.’

  ‘But?’ I whispered, my stomach churning.

  ‘But you are listed in the newspaper as a co-owner of that company.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I’m not being accused of anything,’ I said, confused.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he confirmed. ‘However, you need to understand that your name has some negative associations right now. Your name is being connected with a drug arrest, no matter how fair or unfair that is for you.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ I was barely able to ask past the burning in my throat.

  I heard him clear his throat. ‘Meera, I don’t know how to say this. Your competitors are taking advantage of the bad PR and are suggesting that you lack morals, and that makes them question every character in your books.

  ‘I just don’t understand,’ I said weakly.

  ‘Our company needs to distance ourselves from you. Meera, I cannot honour our agreement.’

  I stood up so quickly, the backs of my knees pushed the chair into the wall. ‘But we had a deal!’

  ‘No, we didn’t,’ my publisher replied. ‘No contract was signed. We are walking away from our agreement. I hope I’m wrong—’

  ‘You are wrong!’

  His calm tone made me even angrier when he spoke. ‘I’m sure I am,’ he said in a placating tone. ‘But we cannot move forward with you.’

  Sometime later, I realised I was still standing behind my desk with my phone still in my hand. We had long since ended the call, but I couldn’t move enough to even put my phone down.

  ‘Meera?’ I heard Aashi’s voice call from the front door where she let herself in. I didn’t respond, and she finally poked her head into my office. ‘There you are!’ she said before the look on my face registered. ‘What’s wrong?’ my faithful assistant asked.

  I finally sat down, defeated. ‘My contract was cancelled.’

  She gasped. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘The publishers saw an article in the paper. About Vivaan. And since my name is associated with the company, suddenly I am a liability. They cut me loose.’

  For the longest time, we sat in silence, both absorbing the ramifications. I remembered what I had said to Vivaan the night before. Any hope I had left was tied to that advance. Devastation washed over me and for the first time, even though I thought I understood what Vivaan had been feeling, I realised how defeating these accusations were.

  ‘May I make a suggestion?’ Aashi finally ventured tentatively.

  I looked at her, forgetting she had even been in the room with me. Blinking my eyes to pull out of my stupor, I tried to collect my thoughts. Although every part of my being wanted to shriek and wail, I tried to cling to Aashi’s calm demeanour.

  ‘I hope you have a better idea than I do,’ I said miserably. ‘Because I don’t see any way out of this.’

  ‘Well. . . there are many more publishers in India,’ she said. ‘Let’s make a list of the top ones and you can reach out to them. Let them know you’re free to pursue other contracts. Before you know it, they’ll be lining up outside your door, begging to sign you.’

  I pursed my lips. Of course, what she said made sense. Not the part about begging to sign me, I thought dryly, but the part about there being other options for me.

  Over the next week, Aashi and I made phone calls, created pitch letters, and reached out. I begged her not to tell Vivaan what was going on—I wasn’t confident that he could handle more bad news—and we charged through the top list of publishers.

  Then, we started to reach out to the next tier, those that hadn’t made the top of our list.

  I watched Aashi’s face carefully one day as she took yet another call. The hopeful look she had when the phone rang quickly dissolved into disappointment. ‘Thank you for letting us know,’ she said weakly and hung up the phone.

  ‘Cross another off the list?’ I guessed, and Aashi nodded.

  ‘Cross another off what list?’ I jumped, hearing Vivaan’s voice. Neither of us heard him come in. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking pointedly at Aashi and me.

  I ignored the question for a second. ‘Aashi, would you mind warming up my cappuccino?’ I asked her calmly. With a lit
tle squeak, she took my cool cup and scurried out of the room.

  I walked around my desk slowly, trying to figure out how to tell Vivaan what was going on. Somehow, he seemed to know, though. He leaned against my desk, pulled me into his arms, and held me as I told him the whole story.

  17

  KABIR

  Being a burn victim is unlike anything I would have ever imagined. When the fire stripped the flesh off my body, surviving the trauma was only the first step. It’s not like a broken bone or a sprained ankle—those things can heal. Yes, I was healing, but I knew I would never be the same again.

  ‘Kabir,’ Nisha said, coming into the room, Jianna planted firmly on her hip. ‘Would you like to go out for a walk today? The weather is so beautiful, and I thought it would be nice to go to the park and have a picnic lunch. It’s warm, but not too hot and it’s overcast so the direct sun won’t hurt your scars.’

  I wanted to say yes, to keep the sparkle in her eyes, but today was a bad day, pain wise. Plus, my heart was heavy for Vivaan and Meera. Hearing that Meera had lost her publishing contract was just one more weight that tugged at my heart. I could barely muster the energy to walk into the kitchen, never mind walking to the park.

  I shook my head sadly. ‘I don’t think so, not today,’ I responded.

  As I anticipated, the smile left her eyes, and disappointment set in once more. It seemed like all I could do lately was disappoint the woman I loved.

  Ironically, now that I was forced to lay around and heal, I realised that I had missed out on so much because I was busy either building Kafe Kabir or making it better. The woman I shared my life with, the one I pledged to take care of, had spent many lonely days and evenings here, without me. She ran the house alone when I should have been at her side more.

  Now that I was here, I could barely scrape up the energy to smile around the pain. I frowned at the scar on my hand. Wounds can be covered with scars, but some open up the moment they are touched with the wrong words. I think Nisha knew that, judging by the way she spoke so carefully these days.

  She now sat down beside me, repositioning our baby on her lap. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, concern wrinkling her brow. ‘Is the pain bad today?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, and Nisha, I just feel so bad for Vivaan and Meera. They had their dreams, and those bright goals were going to bring them success, I just know they would. It’s so unfair. Plus, I feel even worse because they had such hopes of helping us. I think it put even more pressure on them, so their failures must seem even greater to them.’

  Nisha smiled sadly. ‘I’ve thought of that too. I want to tell them that they haven’t let us down, not at all. But how do you go about saying something like that?’

  My shoulders lifted in a shrug, as much as they could with the tight scarring around that area.

  Sensing our despondency, or maybe because she was a rambunctious two-year-old, Jianna began to squirm in Nisha’s lap. ‘I know, baby,’ Nisha soothed.

  ‘Why don’t you take her to the park for a couple hours?’ I suggested.

  ‘Oh,’ Nisha demurred, ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t want to leave you alone. We’ll just stay here.’ As if she understood our conversation, Jianna started to screw up her face and tears threatened.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I insisted. ‘It’s only for a few hours and I think I’ll just take a nap anyway. It feels like that is what my body wants right now.’

  She looked hesitant, torn. I could tell she wanted to go but wanted to stay with me at the same time. I smiled encouragingly. ‘Are you sure?’ she said hesitantly, chewing her lip. ‘Maybe just an hour.’

  ‘Enjoy yourself,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you after my nap.’ To emphasise my decision, I shifted positions and laid my head on the arm of the couch. She stood up quickly and I pulled my legs up and stretched out where she had been sitting.

  I heard her humming quietly as she gathered the diaper bag and the stroller. It was nice to hear that happy sound from her. ‘Call me if you need me,’ she insisted, closing the door behind her quietly.

  After she left, I got up and shuffled over to the window, standing far enough from the window so she couldn’t see me if she looked over, but close enough so I could watch my small family walking down the street. Her step seemed lighter, and I knew she was probably relieved to be out of the house for a little while.

  She turned around a corner and I returned to the couch, sitting down heavily. The burns on my arms hurt, but seeing her happily walking down the street made my heart ache even more.

  Sweet Nisha. She had always been there for me, waiting patiently for each next phase of our life. When we met, her spirit had been shattered and I had tried to coax a smile out of her with a cold coffee and ice cream. I was only working at a café at the time, but even with only a handful of words between us, I started to dream about this beautiful woman in the coral dress.

  But, I mused on the couch, Nisha was still waiting. I was busy with the café and my long hours were driven by my desperate need to ensure my family’s comfort. I didn’t want Nisha and our baby wanting for anything. And, until Kafe Kabir went up in flames, they didn’t want for anything.

  Except for my time and attention.

  I was crushed as I came to the realisation that they had been hungry for me. Husband. Father.

  I was standing by the door as it clicked open and Nisha tiptoed in with a sleeping, sweaty baby on her shoulder.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

  ‘Why don’t you put her down?’ I suggested, also in a low tone. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  She nodded, her eyes darting around the apartment like she was looking for something out of place. I trailed behind her, tiptoeing into our room where the cot was waiting. Gently, Nisha sat on the edge of the small bed and carefully settled the baby on to the cool sheets, her eyes searching Jianna’s face to make sure she wasn’t waking up.

  I stood beside Nisha, my arm draped over her shoulders. She sat up and leaned into me for a moment. We held hands and watched the calm breaths of our sleeping child for several long moments. Then, I stepped away from Nisha and tried to tug her to her feet. My strength was still not there, but I didn’t have to try too hard because the next thing I knew, she was pushing herself into my arms. By now, she knew where it hurt when she touched me, and her arms went confidentially around my undamaged skin.

  Silently, we broke our embrace and left the slumbering Jianna.

  I tugged Nisha out of the bedroom and closed the door behind us. ‘Can you come into the living room?’ I whispered.

  ‘Kabir?’ my wife said, looking at me with intense curiosity.

  I didn’t really know where to start; my throat was a logjam of emotions. But I needed to start somewhere. We sat on the edge of the sofa, so our knees were touching. I sighed and took a breath to speak. But the words still didn’t come out.

  Finally, I managed two words. ‘Forgive me.’ And I crumpled into her arms, the tears flowing freely. Bless Nisha, she said nothing, but she let me cry, rocking me gently in her loving, warm embrace. Our Jianna was the luckiest little girl to have such a nurturing mother. I could feel the love radiating from her as she held me.

  When my tears were finally spent, I pulled away, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. Instead, I stared at the floor miserably.

  ‘Forgive you for what?’ she finally asked.

  Finally, I dragged my eyes up to hers, locked in her intense stare.

  ‘For what?’ she repeated. ‘I don’t understand.’

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘You have been by my side for a very long time now,’ I began, reaching out and lacing my fingers with hers. ‘From the time you and I were engaged, you loved me and supported me, even though all my conditions.’

  Nisha frowned. ‘Conditions?’

  ‘Unspoken ones,’ I said sadly. ‘I didn’t even realise it until now. The condition that I couldn’t marry you until I could support you. Then the condition that
I had to work hard to make Kafe Kabir a success. I put in long hours, and never once did you complain.

  ‘Nisha, I have neglected you,’ I said bluntly. ‘I’ve been so busy, too busy to give you what you deserved: me.’

  She laughed a little nervously. ‘You’ve had so much on your mind.’

  ‘Forgive me?’ I said again.

  Tenderly, Nisha reached out and brushed an errant tear from my cheek. ‘There is nothing to forgive. I love you,’ she said simply.

  Those simple words were a balm to my aching spirit. There was still a heaviness in my heart though, and I knew Nisha could sense it.

  ‘Something else is worrying you,’ she guessed.

  I shook my head angrily. ‘I’ve been so stupid,’ I said. ‘All these years, I’ve put the café first. I worked so hard, ignoring you. . . and what do I have to show for it?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The café is gone, destroyed. We don’t have the money to rebuild and my hospital bills have taken everything else. My biggest fear when we were engaged has come true. After everything, I’m right back where I started,’ I said, starting to cry again. ‘I can’t support you and Jianna. I am nothing, yet again.’

  If I thought she was going to take me in her arms and soothe me again, I was very wrong. ‘No!’ she said sharply, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘You are not nothing, Kabir! You are a loving husband and father.’

  ‘Who hasn’t been there.’

  ‘Who is here now.’

  I heaved a sigh. ‘And I promise you that I will never put work before my family again. Ironic now that I have no way of making a living,’ I said bitterly.

  Once again, her face creased into a smile. ‘I haven’t been sure how to mention this,’ she started. ‘But I’ve been putting away a little money.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘Oh, just from the household expenses, a little bit here and there,’ she said dismissively. ‘It wasn’t that hard.’

  I grinned. ‘You are an amazing woman.’

  ‘It’s not a lot,’ Nisha clarified. ‘But it will take care of things for the next few months, while you continue to heal, and we figure out how to rebuild.’