Darsh swayed as his mind buzzed with emotion, a red film of excruciating pain clouding his brain. Her words pierced his heart like a knife then twisted round and round to make sure the devastation was complete. Then the knife was drawn out mercilessly only to plunge hard into his heart. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He couldn't do anything but stare and let her have it out without lifting a finger to defend himself.

Liar. Scoundrel. A Spineless Bastard!

All his life he was at the receiving end of such words but today they hurt like hell. Maybe because he knew he had earned them. Never before in his life had he deserved them more.

To his horror his eyes were wet. His face was awash with shame that he just couldn't hide. There was no need to hide it anyway as no one was even looking. She had stormed out in the dark night, barefoot, angry, eyes streaming with tears. He wondered where she'd gone; when she would return; or if she would return at all.

He staggered to the sofa and sat clutching his head. He had made a mistake underestimating her pain. And he had made a mistake undermining just how much her reaction would hurt him. He never knew he was so vulnerable, so damn soft, after Ananya had left him he thought he had hardened himself but apparently that was not the case.

The pain was unbearable, almost a physical blow. He felt like sliding to the ground and curling into a pathetic ball.

The morning found him in exactly that state. He was on the cold floor curled up into a ball but by some miracle, the blanket had slid from the sofa to cover him. He was stiff but relatively warm.

Rubbing his aching neck he stood up. The door was still ajar. There was no sign of her.

He shot out in panic to find her sitting on the steps leaning against a wooden post of the railing. Luckily it hadn't rained so she wasn't wet but her pasty face and sunken eyes told him the story of her night.

Sighing, he stepped closer.

"Come inside. We haven't finished our talk."

His voice came out surprisingly soft but it didn't look like she cared. She got up and walked inside, unsteady on her feet. He noticed her limp had returned - maybe the cold had aggravated the pain in her thigh.

He tried not to look and stormed inside. To hell with her pain. To hell with her injury. If the girl was hot-headed and headstrong it was not his fault.

Half an hour later when she finished her bath and came out, she looked slightly better. The color was back on her cheeks, her eyes looked less haunted. The face was still haughty though as if she would rather be anywhere but here.

Annoyed, he thumped a cup of hot tea in front of her. A couple of scalding drops promptly landed on his hand and he hissed out in pain.

"You don't have to do this for me," she commented drily. "I have hands, I can make my own food."

"Fine," he snapped. "I'll keep that in mind. Now back to our talk..."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is. I answered your questions, all of them. Now it's your turn."

"Forget about it, Darsh. I am not answering anything."

"Aditi, you promised!"

She looked bored but her eyes flashed with annoyance.

"Well, I have changed my mind. Why don't you ask those who sent you here in the first place?"

"I will." He pursed his lips. Yes, that was the first thing on his new to-do list. But before that... "But first I want to know your truth."

"My truth!" she laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world. "Since when are you interested in my truth? I offered it to you once, remember? But you did not want it. Now I have nothing to say."

He signed. "Look Aditi, I know you wanted to tell me but I was not interested. I'm sorry about that. I thought I knew it all. The reason I gave you cannabis was to find out about that night. I was angry and scared. It was my only option." He felt wretched giving all that explanation. It was his truth but why would she believe it?

She rolled her eyes but did not comment. That bolstered his courage a little.

"So, about that night..."

"I said I do not wish to discuss it. That incident is in the past. I have already had a hard time overcoming it, and I do not wish to go through it again."

"And I helped you overcome it!" he reminded her as gently as possible but his patience was withering. "So now if you stop wasting time and just tell me..."

"I think we can agree whatever you did was for your own selfish motives. You did not help me, it was never your intention. You were here for revenge, that turned into greed. Everything you said was a lie. You never cared, you never felt anything..." she stopped abruptly to catch a breath, as her lips pinched into a thin line. A strangled sob escaped her throat as her face flamed with shame, anger, and the utter embarrassment that was her life.

He felt tired as the weight on his heart increased a thousand times. He didn't know why it was so heavy, after all, he'd done what he had done knowing the consequences full well.

"That's not true, Aditi. I did care, I was ashamed for Vicki, I was ashamed for what he did to you."

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"So you thought I was a charity case and set off to rescue me." Her face lost its color again as it filled with desolation. He kept quiet. He had no reply. It seemed he had not only broken her heart but also her pride. That wound was deeper, and knowing her, she wouldn't let it heal anytime soon.

"Well, you do not have to feel guilty, if that's why you are so eager to know about that night." Her voice had sunk so low he could barely hear it. "I can assure you, you need not be either guilty or ashamed. Whatever Vicki did, I can understand his reasons and I have already forgiven him. You can absolve yourself of that guilt."

His head hurt by the stress of it all. The puzzle was too much for him. A few other possibilities were sneaking into his mind but...but at this point, all he wanted was to hear it from her.

"Aditi, please. You are my wife and Vicki is my cousin. I need to know the truth. I need to know your version."

"Which you will never get," she said flatly. "That chapter is closed for me. Do not bother me again."

She turned away and went to the kitchen to make her own breakfast. His heart sank to the floor as he watched her ashen-faced.

*****

A week later they reached Delhi. Darsh was relieved to reach a familiar scene - the clogged roads, the congested air, the dust, the crowd, the pollution. It made him feel at home. The clean air of Palampur was starting to poison him. The clear sunlight no longer suited his murky mind that wanted to hide somewhere dark never to show its filthy face again.

The past few days were torture. His wife pretended he was invisible. She cooked alone, ate alone, exercised, and studied alone, he hadn't noticed the thick stack of books she had packed in her luggage. She was happy in her own little world. Every morning and evening she went out for strolls, not too far away from their cottage. They both were careful not to be seen by others, they both didn't want any rumors to spread. That was the one unspoken understanding between them, otherwise, they lived as strangers. It suited her best but he had never known such loneliness. It was as if life was passing by him while he stared from the side. It was as if he had missed out on the biggest deal of his life and was now left to count his losses.

He hated it. He did not like losing. He did not like when his plan failed.

And so when he was back on his home turf, he breathed out a relieved sigh. Although his house was nowhere as luxurious as the Sharma Residence, it was a decent abode - a two-storied row house in a quiet suburb of Delhi that he'd bought a few years ago, to his Ma's extreme pride.

But his peace did not last long, thanks to his wife.

The moment they reached, she occupied the only guest room in his house. It was the smallest room on the ground floor, with a small window blocked by a grey brick fence wall. The furniture there was sparse - a small double bed, a wooden cupboard, and a barely-there grimy bathroom that he had neglected to decorate for ages. He had never felt the need, the only people ever staying there were Vicki's college friends.

His wife barely missed a beat when she saw the state. Nothing phased her - neither the peeling paint nor the stained bedsheets. He wished his Ma was here to handle the situation but she had again given them a miss. She was staying at the NGO, it seemed, she thought it was prudent to leave the newly married couple to sort out their issues.

In a way he was happy. He did want to spend some alone time with his wife. Another reason was that he didn't want his Ma to witness his debacle when his wife got the better of him.

Startled, he scoffed at the ridiculous thought. He was not afraid of his wife. Oh no. He. was. not .afraid. Instead, he would make sure she was afraid of him, like the others in his house and his office.

Which was not hard to achieve, was it? His hand raised to his cheek where the sting of the slap was still alive. The scratches from her nails had just healed but his skin still felt raw.

He gritted his teeth and launched into a scathing attack on the first person that came in the line of his vision, which was unfortunately his maid - Shanta bai.

"Shanta bai, why is the room so dirty? What am I paying you for if you can't even manage to maintain basic hygiene?"

The maid gave him a puzzled look as if he was talking gibberish. To his consternation, his wife gave her a sweet smile before making a certain gesture which suspiciously looked like sign language for - 'Don't mind him, he is crazy.'

The two women shared a knowing look before Shanta bai gave a victorious smirk and glided back to the kitchen. His wife straightened her face and turned back to start her unpacking.

Darsh did not know how to react. Never in his life had his authority been challenged so casually. And never in his life had he lost it so easily. This was ridiculous. This was Delhi, his turf, his house. And this was his wife. He had to reassert his authority. Somehow. Anyhow.

"You cannot stay in this room." He snapped belligerently. "Servants talk. I won't have people gossiping."

Aditi turned to raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"I am only here for a few days Darsh. They will know anyway. Better not hide anything, it will spare us explaining later."

She turned back to the wardrobe with a critical eye, then fished out a cloth to wipe it clean. He stared dumb-faced. Such clear, concise logic. So open and true. His hackles were raised with every word. Being straightforward was one thing, but showing this utter disregard for his reputation, and his feelings, was too much.

Wait, what feelings was he talking about? His brain was confused for a moment but he refocussed quickly. This was not a time for dithering. This was time for firm action.

"You are not staying here Aditi. If you insist on being difficult, I'll have to speak with Dadaji. I am sure he would love to hear about his granddaughter's antics."

He smiled. This was the way to go - use her Achilles heel - her Dadaji.

He crossed his arms to glare at her but regretted it immediately. It did not help that she had cast off her dupatta and rolled up her sleeves to raise on her tiptoes to clean the topmost shelf. His eyes snagged on her curves - her tiny waste making a perfect hourglass that his fingers itched to trace. Sweat beads gathered on his forehead. He resisted the urge to wipe them as he resisted so many other urges. Darn!

"We have a call every day to talk about things," he continued with a brave face. "Dadaji likes to keep informed and I'll have no compunction to tell him what mischief his little granddaughter is up to."

"Then I'll have to talk to your mother about your little folder, Mr. Rathore. She doesn't know yet about your dirty secret, does she?" His wife gave him back with a sweet smile. He was floored. Ah. He had underestimated her again. His sweet princess was not brainless.

"Don't you bring Ma is this! She is blameless."

"She abated your cheating by hiding the truth. She is as guilty as you are."

"She did not!" he thundered. "Ma was sad and ashamed as I was. She wanted to help you. She wanted to..." He fell silent mid-sentence as his irritation hiked. Why was he explaining to this stubborn girl? The volume of their voices was so high Shanta bai peeped curiously in the direction of the guestroom. The door was still open and he was barely past the threshold.

Annoyed, he glared at his wife. Her insolence was insufferable. He had to make a statement - then and there.

He strode in calmly as Aditi watched in surprise. She opened her mouth for some snarky comment when he bent down to haul her up on his shoulder.

The next ten minutes were comical. There were all sorts of noises - squeaks, screams, curses, threats. The rest of his staff came running to view the spectacle. The housekeeper blushed and hid behind the kitchen door as he carried his belligerent and kicking wife to his bedroom.

Ah, now he was home, in his own bedroom with his own wife. He kicked the door shut behind him and threw her on the bed. She scrambled up to her feet with admirable speed and stood glaring at him. After days of melancholy, a mischievous smile cracked on his face when she raised her hand to slap him again.

***** *****