Served with Love

by Priyanka Menon

  ‘Because I don’t want to take such a decision again without asking you,’ he said softly. Pakhi knew he was referring to their disastrous trip to Kolkata.

  ‘Abhimanyu, I’m sorry for the way I reacted then,’ she finally apologized to him. ‘I should have…’

  But he cut her short and said, ‘You were right, sweetheart.’

  ‘No … I…,’ Pakhi couldn’t find the words.

  ‘It’s OK, love,’ he smiled.

  Sighing, Pakhi asked him, ‘Where are we going after dropping Abhithi with Mrs Patil?’

  Twenty minutes later, Pakhi asked again, ‘Where are we going, Abhimanyu?’

  They were making their way through Mumbai’s rush-hour traffic. The roads were teeming with vehicles and pedestrians alike. The local radio channel was playing an old Hindi movie classic, ‘Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo’. This was one of Pakhi’s favourite songs and was sung by the Pakistani singer Farida Khanum.

  On any other day she would have been completely engrossed in the lyrics. But today her nerves were on edge. Abhimanyu had not said a word ever since they got into the car. For the third time she asked him, ‘Where are we going, Abhimanyu?’

  But he still did not utter a word. Pakhi was beginning to worry now.

  Where was he taking her? Was something wrong? What was he not telling her?

  Lost in her thoughts, Pakhi didn’t notice that Abhimanyu had pulled up outside a gate.

  ‘Here we are,’ his voice broke her reverie.

  Pakhi peered out of the window and immediately sank back in her seat. ‘Why are we here, Abhimanyu?’ she asked, her voice strained.

  ‘Pakhi,’ Abhimanyu turned her around to face him. ‘The hearing was this morning,’ he told her. All the pain and fear she had buried away threatened to come rushing to the surface again.

  ‘He’s been sentenced to life, Pakhi,’ Abhimanyu told her. She knew he’d made sure that neither she nor Abhithi nor her father would be asked to bear witness in court. She knew he’d been to court in the morning. Subhash and Abhimanyu had both given testimonies.

  ‘He’s here now, Pakhi. They’re transferring him to Pune this evening,’ Abhimanyu’s voice was soft and reassuring.

  ‘OK. Abhimanyu…’ Pakhi couldn’t bring herself to finish.

  ‘You need to do this, sweetheart.’ He caught her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Don’t think about anything else, Pakhi. Just for once, speak your mind,’ he insisted.

  She looked up into his eyes then and what she found in them left her breathless. He’d been with her every step of the way. And even now, he was here, helping her get closure from the trauma she’d been through.

  Oh, how she loved this man!

  ‘OK,’ she said, in a firmer voice. ‘Let’s do this.’

  Shrikanth was waiting for them when they entered the police station. ‘He’s in cell number seven,’ he said without preamble. ‘Are you ready for this, Ms Mehra?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she said, stealing a glance at Abhimanyu only to find him beaming at her.

  ‘Thanks for this, Shri,’ Abhimanyu said once Pakhi was out of earshot.

  ‘Not at all, Abhi. Have you decided on a date?’

  Abhimanyu looked at his friend and said, ‘How’d you know?’

  ‘I didn’t until now,’ Shrikanth replied smoothly.

  Pakhi was escorted to cell number seven by a lady constable.

  Once they reached the cell, the constable rapped on the bars with her baton.

  ‘Ae!’ she barked.

  An emaciated figure appeared under the solitary light bulb that somewhat lit up the cell. The man in front of her looked like the ghost of her ex-fiancé.

  ‘Come to gloat?’ his voice was gruff and heavy, as if he’d been smoking for a century.

  The words dried up in Pakhi’s throat.

  ‘Don’t you have anything to say, you whore?’ Pakhi knew he was goading her.

  ‘Where is the little bitch? And what about your latest squeeze?’ Pakhi was having a hard time holding her temper.

  ‘Why did you do it, Rajeev?’ Pakhi finally asked him.

  ‘Why?’ Rajeev growled. ‘You have the gall to ask me such a question! You and the little bitch ruined my life. I was kicked out of my job because a whore like you thought she could snuggle up to me and when I responded, she accused me of harassment. I’ve been blacklisted in the field, and you have the gall to ask me why I did it?

  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find work when you’re blacklisted and have a harassment case against your name? I had to leave Bengaluru because of you.’

  Pakhi was aghast at his reasoning. How could he have stooped so low? How could he blame her and Abhithi for what happened to him?

  ‘Rajeev, this is all your doing. Abhithi and I had nothing to do with what happened to you,’ she said.

  ‘No. No. No. You and the little bitch are responsible for this,’ Rajeev interjected. ‘How is she doing anyway? Have all her scars healed? Ugly bitch!’ he spat.

  ‘When you’re done toying with that chef fellow and you want to come back to me, you better come crawling on your knees, you filthy whore!’ he added.

  And just like that the dam burst.

  ‘Do yourself a favour, you bastard,’ Pakhi breathed fire, ‘Never show me your face again. Because if you do, I’ll make sure you’ll have no reason to call yourself a man.’

  She was screaming so loudly now that she was sure her voice could be heard throughout the station. But for once, Pakhi didn’t care.

  ‘Do not come anywhere near me or my family again or you’ll rue the day you were born, you bastard.’

  And saying that, she turned on her heel and walked back down the corridor. Abhimanyu was waiting for her. When she reached him, he gathered her into his arms and said, ‘Very well done, Ms Mehra.’

  Pakhi laughed and said, ‘Let’s get out of here, Abhimanyu. I have something to tell you.’

  ‘As do I, Pakhi. Let’s go.’

  ‘I’ll have the hot chocolate,’ Abhimanyu told their server at Theobroma. ‘And she’ll have a wedge of the New York Style Baked Cheesecake and an Irish Cream Coffee,’ he added.

  Pakhi gave the waiter this-guy-is-a-know-it-all shrug, her eyes twinkling mischievously. When he left with their order, Pakhi looked at Abhimanyu and said, ‘Are you ever going to grow out of hot chocolate?’

  ‘Hey!’ He exclaimed in mock anger.

  She laughed and it felt so good to laugh so freely, without a care in the world!

  ‘Thank you, Abhimanyu,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘For what, sweetheart?’

  ‘For understanding me so well,’ she replied.

  ‘If I don’t understand you, Pakhi, things are going to get difficult at a later stage,’ he declared.

  ‘They are?’ she asked him, her face lighting up.

  ‘Yes,’ he said just as their server arrived with their order.

  For the next few minutes neither spoke.

  ‘This,’ Abhimanyu began, pointing at his hot chocolate with his spoon, ‘is divine.’

  ‘My cheesecake is divine too,’ Pakhi announced.

  ‘Really? Let me see.’ He moved to taste her cheesecake, but Pakhi pulled her plate towards her and said, ‘Order your own, Chef.’

  Abhimanyu glared at her before saying, ‘Fine.’ He spotted their server lurking in a corner near their table and ordered another wedge of the cheesecake.

  ‘This kind of attitude is not going to fly later, Ms Mehra!’ he said in a tone that he intended to be menacing.

  ‘Oh, well, tough luck then, Chef!’ Pakhi was unperturbed.

  Abhimanyu’s cheesecake arrived just as Pakhi finished hers.

  Great! Now she would have to watch him eat.

  And the evil man that he was, he kept moaning as he put each spoonful into his mouth. Pakhi glared at him mutinously. She sat back in her chair with her hands folded and looked everywhere but at him.

  When he’d reached the last piece of
the cheesecake, he said, ‘Stop sulking. Do you want the last bite?’

  Pakhi looked at him, her eyes dancing delightfully, as she said, ‘I do.’

  ‘Those words, Pakhi,’ he said as they got into his car.

  ‘Which words?’ she asked as she strapped on her seatbelt.

  ‘Will you promise to say these words when I ask you something?’ his voice hesitant.

  ‘I do,’ she smiled.

  Abhimanyu smiled too.

  ‘Pakhi, do you love me?’ There. He’d finally asked her. And now he would have to hear say –

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You do?’ he asked her incredulously.

  ‘I do,’ came her response.

  ‘And do you know that I love you?’ he asked.

  ‘I do,’ she replied softly.

  ‘How?’ He had to know.

  ‘How what?’

  ‘How do you know that I love you?’

  Pakhi smiled. ‘You gave me the last bite of the cheesecake, Abhimanyu.’

  A month later, Abhimanyu and Pakhi took the traditional saat pheras around the holy fire in the presence of family and friends. Abhimanyu still sported a beard and ponytail, much to Daji’s dismay. But Pakhi loved Abhimanyu’s rakish looks and said as much to Daji. The old man could only smile at her.

  Two weeks after their wedding, Abhimanyu and Pakhi legally adopted Abhithi as their daughter. It was the happiest day of Abhimanyu’s life. He had a family now. And they were his forever.

  Epilogue

  Seventeen years later

  Abhimanyu had been pacing the length of his living room for almost an hour now. He checked the clock above the TV.

  11.53 p.m.

  Where was this girl?

  ‘Pakhi!’ he bellowed.

  ‘There is no need to shout, Abhimanyu,’ his wife said as she walked into the living room, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. In her hands was the first draft of their sixth cookbook. Their editor had sent it back a couple of days ago with some suggestions.

  When they’d been sent suggestions for their first book, Abhimanyu had snorted and said, ‘Right! These editors know jack about cooking. I am not making a single change.’

  But he had made the changes. His wife had requested him. And Abhimanyu didn’t refuse her anything.

  But right now he was not in the mood.

  ‘Where is she, Pakhi?’ he asked her as she plonked herself on the couch.

  ‘Abhimanyu, you know she’s gone out for dinner. Why are you making such a fuss?’ She tried her best to calm her husband down. But Pakhi knew that when he got into one of his moods, there was little anyone could do or say. The one person who could disarm him completely was not at home, their daughter, Abhithi.

  ‘Pratap!’ Abhimanyu bellowed again. Their fourteen-year-old son, the spitting image of his father with his long hair, walked into the living room. He too had a book in his hand. But it was his chemistry text book. Clearly he’d been studying for his exam the next day. At least, this time he’d begun studying a night before. For his other papers, the boy had opened his text books for the first time on the morning of the exam. Pakhi sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to Daji.

  ‘Yes, Dad?’ Pratap yawned, as he sat next to his mother.

  ‘Did you try calling her?’ Abhimanyu was relentless.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she’s not a kid anymore, that’s why,’ Pratap retorted.

  ‘Pakhi,’ Abhimanyu said to his wife, ‘I’m sure this one isn’t mine.’

  ‘Abhimanyu, relax, please. She’ll be here soon,’ Pakhi assured him.

  ‘I just texted her,’ he said, completely ignoring his wife’s words. ‘And she hasn’t replied.’

  ‘That’s because she texted you ten minutes ago,’ his son put in smoothly.

  ‘Pakhi!’ Abhimanyu was at his wits’ end.

  Right at that minute, they heard the key being inserted in the lock of the front door. Pakhi again sent up another silent prayer of gratitude to Daji for making sure her daughter did not let her father go completely insane.

  Abhithi walked in on the usual scene. Dad was burning a hole into the carpet with his continuous pacing. Mom was sitting on the couch, the model of patience. And Pratap was trying his level best not to roll his eyes at Dad every five seconds.

  But tonight was special.

  ‘Abhi! Where have you been? Do you know what the time is?’ Her father bombarded her with questions as she walked into the living room.

  ‘Dad, just for tonight, could you tone it down?’ she smiled.

  And just like always, her father melted.

  She read the clock above the TV.

  12 midnight.

  ‘Happy sixtieth birthday, Dad!’ She threw her arms around her favourite person in the whole world. ‘Abhiloveyou,’ she said and kissed him.

  Her father, in turn, hugged her to within an inch of her life and said, ‘Abhi love Abhi too, baby.’

  Abhimanyu pulled Pratap from the couch then and hugged him tight as well, muttering about what a stupid fellow he was as he did so.

  Pakhi watched as her children presented their father with a basket. Excitedly, Abhimanyu set it down on the floor and removed the red napkin on top. Out jumped a brown furball and went straight for Abhimanyu.

  In no time at all, her sixty-year-old husband was rolling on the floor with his children and the Japanese spitz he’d decided to call ‘Hot Chocolate’.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you!

  The idea of Served with Love came to me when I was gorging on some prawns at Chinese Room and I thought of writing a story about two people who fall in love over food. So a big thank you to Chinese Room, Pune, for being the breeding ground for this story.

  Thank you, Adil, for helping me with some of the recipes.

  Thank you, Bidisha, for being the most patient editor a girl could ask for.

  Thank you to both my mothers for all their suggestions.

  Thank you to my baby sister, for being the best reader, as always.

  Thank you to Starbucks (Koregaon Park) for giving me the perfect place and blend of coffee to write for hours together.

  Thank you, Abhi, for allowing me to use your name even though I never asked you.

  Thank you, Piyush, for bringing Jaipur back into my life.

  And, finally … thank you, Rahul, for taking me to Chinese Room that afternoon.

  About the Book

  Abhimanyu Dev, orphaned early and brought up by a doting grandfather, has his life chalked out. He is forty-two years old and single, and intends to stay that way. And he runs a hotel with all the care he might have devoted to a home. In walks Pakhi, taking charge of the hotel kitchen. A guardian to her niece Abhithi, Pakhi is passionate and opinionated, and focused on the little girl and on work.

  Abhi and Pakhi rarely see eye to eye. Sparks fly and tempers fray. Yet there are two things that bind them – gourmet meals and their love for Abhithi. The little girl’s affection and innocence draw Abhi out of his shell in a manner he had not anticipated. As for Pakhi, her niece is the very centre of her life.

  When Abhithi is kidnapped, it brings Abhi and Pakhi together as they follow her trail to Mumbai. Will they find Abhithi and each other in time? Served with Love is a mature romance for a new age.

  About the Author

  Priyanka Menon is a romance writer and spoken word poet. Her love for romance novels goes back almost two decades, when she was gifted her first romance novel for clearing her 10th board exams. Priyanka has come a long way since then, having finally written her first book, The One That Got Away (Harlequin). She credits her writing powers to red velvet pastries and white chocolate mochas at Starbucks. This is her second novel. When she is not penning love stories or writing poetry, Priyanka teaches advertising to college students. You can write to her at priyankamenon.author@gmail.com

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  First published in India in 2017 by Harlequin

  An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

  Copyright © Priyanka Menon 2017

  P-ISBN: 978-93-5264-403-2

  Epub Edition © April 2017 ISBN: 978-93-526-4404-9

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  Priyanka Menon asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under The Copyright Act, 1957. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers India.

  Cover design: Hasnain Waris

  Cover images: Shutterstock

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