“I made it.”
Grey eyes whirled up, and stared at her over the rim of his iPad.
“It was your green gravy.”
He blinked.
“There were three green chillies in your plate.”
Atharva pulled his iPad down, his mouth slightly open.
“What is happening, Atharva?”
“Nothing is happening.”
“You can’t be like this.”
“And you can tell me how to be after not being here for months? This is how I was then.”
It hurt. She had asked him to let it come but it did hit where it hurt. Iram swallowed the ball of tears down and nodded.
He jumped to his feet and rounded the table, closing the distance between them. “I am sorry, I am so sorry…” he grabbed her hand and tugged her into his chest. “I am so sorry,” his forehead fell over hers. “You are right, there is something wrong.”
“Because of Dev…”
“No,” he cut her off emphatically. “No.”
She held her tears back. “With us.”
“No,” he reared back, his eyes strained but honest behind those glasses. “No, not with us. I mean, I am definitely snapping at you again and that’s not right but… you asked me to let it come out.”
“I did.”
“I am sorry. It’s like Mama all over again. And I can’t stop comparing.”
“I did do what she did…”
“No! No, myani zuv, your constraints were different. This is me, I have to separate those two experiences.”
“So what is it?”
“What?”
“If we are ok, then what is it?”
He sighed, shaking his head — “Just work. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“When has it ever stopped me from worrying about your ‘work?’”
One side of his mouth pulled up — “I never valued it enough how easily I could come and talk to you about my work.”
“Until I wasn’t here.”
“Yes,” he confessed honestly, without cutting. “Until you weren’t here.”
“But now I am. Tell me.”
“Iram, it’s causing me constant headaches. Let it remain mine for now.”
