It became rapidly clear this game of make-believe was not going to work. Real problems need real solutions. Their pain was real, it needed something more substantial than a few shy hugs at night, a little polite conversation at breakfast, and a few stolen glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

Aditi, on her part, only looked at him when it was absolutely necessary and even then, didn't meet his eyes. She had retreated into this soft pliable shell that he loved to hug and cuddle but couldn't break.

Sad, withdrawn, as if she was alone in her world with her ghosts. He wanted to shake her out of it, but just couldn't.

In the daytime, she held on valiantly, going through the motions smiling and living as was expected of her. At night, she came undone. Her pretenses fell apart in front of him. Every rip, every crack in her heart would be clearly visible.

"I wish you'd tell me what's the matter," he would pull her close every night and ask. It had become his habit, playing with her locks as he asked her that question. " Are you okay?"

"I am fine," She would reply with that subdued smile. "Are you?"

"Yes," he would lie through his teeth before moving inevitably to the next question. "I want you to be happy, Aditi. You know that, right?" This always took a while to answer. She would adjust her position in the crook of his arm, he would feel a slight exhale of breath on his skin.

"Are you? Happy?"

"I am if you are."

"Me too."

Their eyes would meet as they pondered their words, their situation. It was a deadlock of some sort. His happiness depended on her and hers on him. That meant either both could be happy or none. But he knew the buck stopped at him. He couldn't give her what she wanted, rather deserved. She seemed to have made peace with it but the more she gave in the more he was irritated with himself.

Somedays he got up from the bed to pace the room restlessly. Some days he went for cold showers. It helped in more than one way and he hoped his wife didn't notice. Somedays when nothing worked, he just went out for long a long walk. It cleared his head. When the night was quiet, with not a soul around, he could sit on the front steps and ponder his life.

Then his wife would come out to call him in.

"It's too dark," she would look uneasy as if she expected something to jump at them out of the dark. "It's not safe."

Sighing, he would obey her wishes and go in. There was something he couldn't pinpoint. Something he couldn't place that kept her listless.

Every night he held her close, consoling, cajoling, trying to make her feel better. She didn't talk much but he knew she cherished those moments. Her face would clear of its pallor as she would gaze at him quietly. Her eyes would sparkle with some last embers of hope. He would then peck her forehead and close those eyes with gentle fingers. Too much hope was not good. He could not give her what she wanted. It was not up to him.

They invariably fell asleep in each other's arms. One reason was that his mind and body had taken that part of his supposition theory too seriously. He just couldn't fall asleep without her. The other reason was that he did not want to give her a chance to move away again. In the mornings he invariably found her curled up in the other corner of the bed, facing him yet afar as if she had fallen asleep watching him. He would then take the opportunity to gaze at her to his heart's content. Her loose locks curled around her sublime face, her long lashes hiding her tired eyes. Her pink lips puckered in sleep, so sweet, so utterly kissable and tempting. He didn't dare to kiss her though, that was out of the question. The barriers between them were still intact, if anything, their night together had only served to raise them higher. Sighing, he would then shuffle up to pull her close. That would wake her up. She would then use it as an excuse to get up. Her day began from there.

She kept a full schedule. Mornings with his mother in the kitchen on the pretext of learning to cook. After a quick breakfast, she would go to Gurudwara and then to her clinic. Evenings - again kitchen, then an hour of reading, then sleep. By the time this last part came, it was always nearly eleven pm.

He waited patiently, utilizing the time to work. His three weeks away had been fruitful. He had made up for the losses so Rajeev did not have an excuse to crib anymore. But still every now and then he asked about the party and Darsh had to find some excuse to put it off. His wife wasn't herself, he could see that clearly.

A couple of times he tried to probe. The first time was when she'd sat by the french windows of the dining room with a fat medical journal in her lap.

"How's the clinic going Aditi? Is everything okay?"

She looked surprised, then gave him a small smile. Yes, everything was fine, thank you very much. She was grateful for him for sorting it out with Gaurav.

"I'm thinking of relieving Ashok," he said pursing his lips, trying to extract a better reaction. "I am here now. I can drop you and pick you up myself."

"Thanks, but that's not necessary. I'm sure you are busy."

"It's not a big deal", he insisted. "I can come, it was the original plan anyway. And I can use Ashok for something else..."

"Oh!" Her face fell. "If you need Ashok for some other work then it's fine. But really you don't need to bother. I know the area well now. I can go by myself."

That was not an option, he wanted to snap, but controlled his temper. For the first time, he felt he was missing something. Did she look scared when he talked of removing Ashok?

Frowning, he followed her upstairs. She was at the dresser getting ready for the night. His heart stilled. Her hair was open and he realized it had grown to reach her hips. The masses of soft silk cascaded her shoulders as she combed it absent-mindedly. Sighing he walked forward and pulled her to face him. If his touch did anything to her she didn't show it. Her eyes had that sad look, he tried not to dwell on it.

"Why do I feel you are hiding something?"

"I am not." She smiled with a closed expression. He pursed his lips as his fingers dug into her waist.

"Aditi, please. I need to know. I need to know If there's anything bothering you."

"Were you very close to her?" The question caught him off guard. What was she asking?

"To whom?"

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"To... Anu. I saw her name on a notepaper when I was dusting your bookshelf the other day. It fell out of a book." She gave him a curious look. "You wrote her a poem. It was beautiful. It ended in ..."

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees...

The line of Pablo Neruda weaved through his mind. His breath knocked out of his chest. Had she seen that piece of paper? He was not a dreamy romantic by any means, he was a builder - bricks and mortar were more like his things. But he had specially looked for a romantic poem for Ananya's birthday that year. He had found 'Every Day You Play' - supposedly the most sensuous work of the famous poet and copied it down on that silly pink stationery paper Ananya was so fond of. He was going to present it with his gift that day but before that...

He looked at his wife ashen-faced. That poem was not for her eyes. He didn't even know he still had it stuffed in that book.

You are like nobody since I love you.

Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?

Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.

I go so far as to think that you own the universe.

I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,

dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

By the time he came to his senses, Aditi was getting ready for her shower.

"Good choice by the way. I like Neruda too."

"Aditi, it was my past. It's all finished long back. And I copied the poem from the internet, I don't even understand half of it...."

"Nothing is finished until it's finished, Darsh." She held herself valiantly upright but her voice was taut. "And it's okay. It's your life. You don't owe me anything. But then also remember that I owe you nothing. So don't ask me questions I'd never answer."

She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. He stared at it speechless, then sat on his bed with his head in his hands.

*****

That night they didn't hug. She slept on the far side of the bed pulling her blanket to her chin. For the first time, she had her back to him, maybe because she did not want him to see her tears.

He kept tossing and turning, burning in his own guilt. Getting up, he padded to the bookshelf to tear that pink paper to pieces and threw it in the bin. But the damage was already done.

Hours passed. The night would have passed too but his phone decided to ring at that moment. Darsh frowned. It was Mohit.

"Mohit, what's up? Everything okay?" Darsh said as his wife got up with a start. He gave her a stern look and turned his back on her.

"Can you please give it to Di?" Mohit sounded haggard. "I need to talk to her urgently and her phone is coming switched off."

*****

Mohit needed money. A lot of it. His father had built a large debt that Balwant Sharma flatly refused to pay. Ravi Sharma then wanted to call Aditi but his father forbade him explicitly. As a last resort and to have a one-up on his father, Ravi had decided to marry his daughter off. Mansi Sharma had herself found the suitor. He was an old acquaintance of Mansi who was willing to marry Nehal with a guarantee that he'd pay off all the debts. The only problem was he was fifty years old, old enough to be Nehal's father. And a childless widower to boot, hence the need for a young wife.

"Di, please," Mohit begged on speaker phone as Darsh listened with growing consternation. His wife's face was white as a sheet. "You have to help me. Only you can help Di, please."

"Yes, of course, Mohit." Aditi stuttered haplessly. "I'll do something immediately."

"Send the money Di. Urgently. Mansukh Advani wants the engagement tomorrow and the wedding within the week. The goons were here for money today. Advani won't release the money until after the engagement."

"Goons?" Aditi's shuddered in fear. "Didn't Zorawar help?"

"Dadaji won't let him interfere," Mohit sounded livid. "I think he is actually enjoying Dad's plight. He's always wanted to punish Dad."

Aditi sighed.

"And Nehal? How is she taking this?"

"She's shut herself in her room. Please Di. Do something. I don't know how Dadaji can be so heartless..."

Mohit ranted for ten more minutes before Darsh cut the call. His wife stood shaking, then looked at him unsurely.

*****

Ten minutes later, Darsh had transferred two crores from his personal account to Ravi Sharma. A call went to Mansukh Advani advising him to forget about the marriage. He also called up Ravi Sharma to give him a piece of his mind. Aditi listened in surprise as her husband delivered a beautiful combination of threats disguised as genuine advice. There was a warning not to expect any more money and a threat to get him blacklisted from every racecourse in the country. Imagine the shame, imagine the scandal. No one would marry Nehal then knowing she was the daughter of a penniless gambler. Her uncle was suitably chastised, ashamed even to receive such a beating from a man half his age.

The next call was to her Dadaji filling him in with the details. To her surprise, Dadaji was irritated. Darsh had no need to bail out Ravi or his daughter, he said adamantly. It was time he learned a lesson.

The weirdness of the situation was too much to handle. Aditi's head hurt just thinking about how her uncle and grandfather could go to such lengths when Darsh handed her a glass of water. She accepted it gratefully as she finally gave a sigh of relief.

"Thanks for this. I don't know what I'd have done. I don't even know my online banking passwords, I hardly use them. It would have been impossible to transfer that money in time."

"Save it, Aditi." He waved a hand, utterly disinterested in her apologies. It was past one PM, yet it didn't look like sleep was on his mind. "The only thing I want to know is - why is your phone always switched off?"

She took her time to answer as she scooted herself back to the wall. Hunching her knees to her chest she adjusted her dress as her husband watched her antics and got impatient by the second.

"It's not always switched off. I just forget to charge it sometimes." Finally, she answered after she'd taken her own sweet time. His jaw twitched.

"You gave the same excuse to Ma two days ago, Aditi. And to Ashok yesterday when he tried to call you. What's going on?"

She chewed her lips nervously. Her phone was turned off because that was the only way to avoid those insidious texts. Day by day they had gotten sinister, sometimes she felt the man was standing right next to her, observing her every move. The thought gave her jitters, her hands shook as she examined patients. A few of them even commented - she didn't look well, maybe she needed some rest?

Blocking the numbers didn't work, they always found her out. As a last resort, she decided to turn the phone off. Nobody called her as long as she called them first. And anyways it was only Sonal and Dadaji and now sometimes Karuna Ma.

She watched as her husband grabbed her phone from her purse and turned it on. It came on obediently, it was charged after all. Irritated, he grabbed her hand to press her sweaty thumb on it to unlock it. A stack of texts was already waiting for her. His face went ashen as he read through them.

"Since when is this going on?" He asked as she watched him quietly. He looked angry, frustrated, and even a little scared.

"I asked Aditi, since when is this going on? Why didn't you tell me? We live together for God's sake, I have Ashok to help you during the day. One word would have sufficed..."

"You didn't pick up my call." He stared at her dumbfounded. She pinched her lips defiantly. Yes, he didn't pick it. So she didn't tell him. Simple as that. Childish though it sounded, especially now, she would do it again without a second thought. Never before had anyone cut her call. Never. ever. Before. He was the first man ever to ignore her like that. So he deserved the punishment.

Moreover, she couldn't forget the pink paper. The cherry trees, the blossoms, the tender past that he had kept hidden. It burned her heart like hot coals even to think about it. Spring was now officially her most hated season and pink was officially the most hated color.

He shook his head tiredly as he gave her an exasperated look. She tossed her head back nonchalantly. If he could keep secrets, she could too. If he would not open up his heart, she would close hers.

"So what now?"

"Now you handle it," came his scathing reply. "I am not getting into this. You won't tell me anything anyway - not about that night, not about Vicki. Not about anything else. So it's your headache."

What? She frowned dumb-faced. The gall of him. How dare he defy her again!

"Fine. I'll tell Uncle Shekhawat then. I don't need your help."

"Oh really! Then why haven't you told him already?" He mocked, curling a lip. She fell silent. The reason was simple. Uncle Shekhawat would ask questions. Who was it, why was it, how did it happen. Why she, why he, etc, etc, etc. He would find the culprit, there was no doubt about that. But then the secret won't be a secret anymore. The more people knew about it, the more will know. And now she didn't just have her Dadaji to consider. She had to think about Karuna Ma and her husband's reputation too.

She pinched her lips as her nostrils quivered. He threw his hands in the air and resumed his pacing.

Ten minutes later, he'd reached his decision. He gave her a tranquilizer and tucked her in before getting himself ready.

"Where are you going?"

"To Sam," he said coldly and she swallowed a lump. "Stubborn as you are, Aditi, and unable as I am to wheedle the truth out of you, be assured that I'll know it by tomorrow. So sleep now, and I'll see you in the morning."

***** *****