Шома Нараянан – Monsoon Wedding Fever (страница 5)

‘Don’t be childish, Riya. What are you trying to prove?’ he said, and Riya immediately saw red.

‘Leave me alone,’ she said.

Dhruv gritted his teeth and moved closer to her, putting one arm on either side in a protective stance.

‘Get away, Dhruv,’ Riya said angrily, not sure which was stronger—her irritation at his bossiness, or her intense awareness of his proximity. His sleeves were rolled up, and she could see the smattering of fine hair on his forearms. Her fingers ached to run up his arm, feel the muscles under the warm, velvety skin. His face was really close too, and she had a sudden mad impulse to touch his silky hair and pull his head closer till his mouth touched hers.

A surge of annoyance at her own susceptibility made her shove at his shoulder—hard. He didn’t budge, but the movement made her lose her balance. She teetered on the edge for a second, and then Dhruv’s arms came around her, steadying her and firmly lowering her to the balcony. His arms felt every bit as delicious as she had imagined. She looked up at him mistily—to encounter two golden eyes glaring furiously down at her as his hands came up to her shoulders.

He gave her a little shake. ‘What did you think you were doing?’ he demanded. His heart was still thudding loudly in his chest—for a moment he had really thought she was going to fall.

‘I was perfectly OK till you tried to play the hero,’ Riya retorted, shaking herself free from his clasp and storming off into her room.

Dhruv stared after her, a sense of déjà vu sweeping over him. The last time they’d spoken in college...

The circumstances had been very different, of course. Things had gone wrong between them, and he’d started cold-shouldering Riya, hoping she’d get the message and stay away from him. She hadn’t stood for that very long, and had confronted him as he was leaving his hostel for a morning class. The altercation had turned bad very quickly. In the long years of hearing his parents fight he’d unconsciously acquired a knack of saying bitter, hurtful things, and it had taken him barely minutes to rip apart the delicate fabric of their relationship.

Riya’s chin had gone up, and she’d said in a voice that was very firm, though tears were trembling on her long eyelashes, ‘I don’t believe you mean any of the nonsense you’re saying, Dhruv. You’re hurting yourself as much as you’re hurting me, and that’s just plain stupid.’

She’d turned and started walking away, and a blind wave of anger had ripped through him. He’d stretched out an arm and grabbed her, swinging her around against him. Her eyes had blazed up into his, and for a second he’d had a crazy impulse to crush her ridiculously childish little mouth under his. She’d felt very light against him, very fragile, and as he’d held her the fight had seemed to go out of her slim little body. He’d closed his eyes for a second, and then, very slowly, he’d released her, turning her away from him and pushing her gently back onto the path that led away from his rooms.

She’d turned back once to look at him as she walked away. If he’d made the smallest gesture he knew she’d have run back into his arms, but he’d kept his face blank, wiped clean of all expression and emotion. She hadn’t looked back again.

Back in her room, Riya was thinking of the same morning, and the sense of utter desolation that had swept over her when she’d left Dhruv. A light tap on the door made her restrain herself from bursting into a flood of uncharacteristic tears.

‘Come in,’ she said gruffly.

Dhruv opened the door and stepped in, shutting it behind himself. He sat down next to her and took her hand in both of his.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I overreacted. I have a bit of a thing about heights.’

Riya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. His hands were warm, slightly rough, and the temptation to fling herself into his arms was stronger than ever. Then a thought struck.

‘You were OK with heights in college,’ she remembered. ‘You used to go on all those treks and things.’

Dhruv squeezed her hand slightly, and said after a brief pause, ‘Yes, well, I’m not acrophobic. I saw a worker on one of my projects fall from the roof of a thirty-story building many years ago. Died instantly. I haven’t been able to stand seeing anyone even lean out of a window since that.’

Riya’s marshmallow heart immediately brimmed over with sympathy. ‘That must have been terrible,’ she blurted.

Dhruv shrugged, wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up. It wasn’t something he normally did—exposing vulnerability to win someone’s sympathy. He hadn’t done it consciously this time, either, but he’d felt a need to justify his behaviour. And not just his behaviour today. He looked away, pushing a hand through his hair. God, this was difficult. Seeing her walk away from him in anger today had brought back the guilt about how unfairly he’d treated her in the past, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with it right now.

Riya felt her throat close up as she surveyed his back. The instant of sympathy she’d felt for him had temporarily breached her defences, and the old, confused sense of loss threatened to swamp her. She gritted her teeth and looked down for a second. She’d spent the day trying to convince herself that she’d put the past behind her, but who was she kidding? The past was right there, waiting for her to let her guard slip, and the sooner she figured out a way to deal with it the better.

‘Dhruv?’ she said finally, and he turned back to her. ‘I never did get to ask you in college, but it’s bothered me all these years—why did you change?’ Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could hardly hear herself speak, but she couldn’t stop herself continuing. ‘I know I threw myself at you a bit at the end, and you kept trying to knock some sense into me—was that it?’

‘Not really,’ Dhruv said, and after a little pause he continued very formally with a shuttered look on his face that she remembered from college. ‘I don’t believe in explanations, Riya—they always end up sounding like excuses. But I do apologise. You deserved a lot better from me, and I let you down.’

The temptation to say more was almost irresistible, but his reasons for dumping her were too closely linked to the crisis his family had been going through at that time. The old habits of reticence and concealment died hard—even after so much time. It seemed preferable that she think him fickle and irresponsible rather than know the real reason.

‘I’d better join the others—Gaurav looked like he needed help with the food.’ While Riya stared at him in disbelief, he turned around and went out of the room, shutting the door gently but firmly behind him.

‘So much for waiting half a lifetime to figure out what the hell happened,’ Riya said out loud to the closed door.

The sense of frustration was so strong she felt like screaming. Twelve years since they’d parted, and explanations still didn’t seem to be among Dhruv Malhotra’s strong points. In a way, she felt worse than she would have if he hadn’t apologised—his getting angry or avoiding the topic would have made her feel that it really bothered him deep down, but the empty token of an apology relegated the whole college episode to an unfortunate but not very important incident in his distant past.

Suddenly furious, she picked up a little ceramic troll from her bedside table and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces with a most satisfying crash.

Her door opened a little, and Gaurav poked his head inside cautiously. ‘All OK?’ he asked.

Riya looked up and gave him a tight little smile. ‘Yes. Your cousin is the...the most infuriating man I’ve met in my life—not that I care!’ She didn’t want to let Gaurav know quite how upset she was. He seemed to be fairly close to Dhruv, and given his general ineptitude at keeping his mouth shut the chances of him letting something slip were high.

Gaurav’s pleasant face was creased with worry. ‘He’s leaving tomorrow, but he’ll be there at the wedding. You sure it’s OK?’

‘I’ll avoid him,’ Riya said. And when Gaurav’s frown didn’t go away she said, ‘Relax. I won’t smash his face in during the ceremony. Or will it be simpler if I don’t come?’

Gaurav’s expression changed and he came in swiftly, sitting down next to her and saying earnestly, ‘I wouldn’t be getting married if you hadn’t helped sort out things with Madhulika’s parents. If anyone needs to skip the wedding, it’ll be Dhruv.’

Sudden tears came to Riya’s eyes, and she fumbled for Gaurav’s hand and squeezed it hard. He’d been her best friend for many years now, and he’d been miserable when Madhulika’s parents had refused to let their daughter marry him. They’d picked out a Bengali bridegroom for her, and had had no time for the brash, burly Punjabi man their daughter had chosen. Riya had played the go-between for some months, gradually bringing them round to the idea, and Gaurav had been absurdly grateful ever since.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘He’s family—you can’t tell him not to come. I promise I’ll behave.’

‘Come on out and join us, then,’ Gaurav said, gently tugging her to her feet. ‘I’m setting up the karaoke thing on the TV. Don’t bother about Dhruv. Every unmarried girl in the room is making a beeline for him, and he’ll be too busy fighting them off to bother you.’