Posted: November 4th, 2018

♚ Aarush ♚

2.12 The Lost Wolf

          "What are you afraid of?"

Laying back on the couch in the living room, staying awake for my shift, her question echoes in my brain. The questions she so-innocently asked to carry on a casual conversation. Perhaps to forget her own fears. And yet, she had no idea what wounds she pricked at.

"What do you have to live for?"

I turned aloof in response... for how could I tell anyone I no longer have anything to live for? Sometimes, I cannot bring myself to accept that reality.

I sit up in frustration, running my fingers through my hair and wincing slightly when the movement sends a jolt to my injured arm. It burns but I wish it'd burn more than the emptiness in my heart. Because in my opinion, a physical wound would still hurt less than an emotional one.

I was better a few days ago when I was still in the shadows. I know, I kept telling Eva that Jhanvi deserved to know. Sadly, I did not realize what repercussions I would be facing as a result. Now that she knows, there is no excuse to stay back in the shadows, unspotted the way I liked it. I am much better at being the lone wolf.

Inhaling deeply to compose myself, I lean forward to grab my laptop from the coffee table and flip open the screen. I stare at the lock screen for a second before thinking to myself. I really need to change this years old screensaver. And yet, like every other time I have thought this, I leave it as is.

Typing the password, I try to distract myself with some work.

. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .

          At the crack of dawn, I decide to take a quick shower thinking everyone would stay asleep a while longer. But just as I walk out of this guest room, I spot Jhanvi trying to sneak out from the kitchen exit. I clear my throat to get her attention, crossing my arms across my chest.

She freezes in her step and turns back with the typical busted expression which she quickly tries to cover with a feeble smile, "Good morning."

Instead of replying, I question. "Going somewhere?"

"Oh, just out for some fresh air. It's a pleasant morning, you know?"

I raise my brows to deliver the message of do I look like a fool? No one would believe that excuse. Not when she is dressed to go outside and sporting a purse on her right shoulder.

Knowing that she can't talk her way out, she exhales a defeated sigh and fesses up, "Fine, I need to go somewhere."

"Where?" I ask for her statement was obvious. It did not give the details I am looking for.

She tries to hold her own as if under the false impression that she is in charge here, "I don't need to tell you anything."

I casually walk around her to the doors and lock them. Turning to face her afterwards, I say, "Then you are not going anywhere."

Her jaw drops in surprise that I'd dare stop her. However, she recovers quickly and the smart lady that she is, she figures out that she will not be getting her way until I first get all of my answers. "Look," she says, "I'm sorry for trying to sneak out but you have to let me go."

"Oh? I have to?" I question her word choice because I will not be doing any such thing.

"Why are you so difficult?" She raises her tone in exasperation before turning it to normal and giving it another try. "Fine, you don't have to, but you really should."

"Why exactly?"

"Because I can't rest till I get some answers and right now, Hiten has them!" She exclaims as if what she wants is that simple.

But, the second she says Hiten's name, I am alert. Does she really want to go meet the person who somewhere ruined her life? I had only seen Hiten that one time at the restaurant. I had seen how quickly his attitude had changed. I had been the one to purposely bump into them when he had held Jhanvi too roughly to save her.

And that same girl is standing in front of me right now demanding she wants to see Hiten?

She must see on my face how I am unable to understand her complexity. She pleads in a softer tone, "Just please... do you... do you understand the importance of closure? I really need that right now. Not from him but from all of this. If it were up to me, I'd never want to see that man's face in my life but unfortunately, I am standing at such crossroads where my only option left is him. He is the only link I have to finding... to putting an end to this all. You said it yourself that Dinesh was leading us here to him. We know how it wasn't Dinesh but it was still someone. Shouldn't we be trying to find out who rather than just hide?"

Now... as much as I start to sympathize with her as even my logical brain tells me that Hiten is the only one who has some answers for all of us, I offer instead. "You should first ask Aarav what he thinks of..."

She does not let me finish as she again raises her voice, "I do not need anyone's permission!" This time, there is that take-charge attitude in her tone, "I am going to meet Hiten now and even you can't stop me despite what you may want to believe so highly about yourself. I have lived in this country most of my life and I know these roads better than you."

I take a step towards her trying to intimidate her but she keeps her gaze sternly on me, unfazed. "It's not safe out there, you do know that, correct?"

She scoffs, "Then tag along! See if I care. But I am going."

I stand there having roughly three seconds to make my decision because it looks like I don't step out of her way, she would ram past me with that quick temper of hers. Why did I so confidently tell Eva I was competent in keeping Jhanvi inside the house? Looks like I cannot stop her, but neither can I let her leave on her own.

I really wish she would have told Aarav about this so I would not have had to make this decision. "Fine, I'll inform Aarav and then we'll..."

"No."

My brows knit together, "No?"

"No," she repeats. "You won't tell him."

I ask for clarification purposes, "You want to go meet your ex-fiancé behind your husband's back?"

She rolls her eyes as if that matter is not her main topic of concern, "Are you going to get the damn car or am I going to have to walk myself to the nearest bus stop?"

Why is she so... I don't even know the right word for it. Either way, I tell myself I should not be concerning myself with what she does behind who's back. My job is not to judge her actions. My job is simply to get her from point A to point B safely without asking any questions. That is what I should stick to.

"I'll bring the car around," I inform my decision and she looks both grateful and relieved that I have dropped the wish the inform Aarav where she wants to go.

. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .

          Vikas asks me to reconsider standing in front of me that night, "Are you sure about this?"

I answer nonchalantly, not as worried about myself as he is about me, "Just bring it, man."

He raises a brow, "Do you really think you can win against me using just one hand?"

I give him a bored look and he finally decides to drop his concerns about hurting me in this wrestling match. Despite the touch and go gunshot wound on my forearm, I was not as worried. Sometimes, they do not properly grasp the life of a shoulder. We have been trained to sideline the pain and draw attention on the mission.

Twenty minutes later, I smirk at him as he huffs and pants after the number of dodges he's had to make. "Had enough?"

He refuses to accept defeat that I can beat him single handedly. "Not... even... close." He manages to reply between inhale and exhale.

I shake my head in response, "You're not going to win, Vikas."

He straightens up from being bent over to catch his breath, ready with refreshed confidence in himself. "Maybe not," he punches to my left and I dodge without expecting him to attack again with a kick causing me to slip under the mat and fall on my right shoulder, "but I do know how to be sneaky."

At the impact, I muffle a groan before turning to lay on my back. As he stands over me, victorious, I admit. "I may have underestimated you."

"Mmhmm," he smugly hums and offers his hand. Taking it, I jump up on my feet. He beings taking off his gloves. "As much as I would like to rub this in your face, Rawal, I stink. You really made me work for this win, you know that?"

I take pride in it but reply only with a chuckle. He leaves for the room to take a shower and call it a day while my night shift begins. Just as I sit on the couch, I hear voices from their room. After listening for a few seconds, it sounds like an argument. Looks like Jhanvi told Aarav about our visit to Hiten earlier in the day.

Knew this was eventually going to happen. I grab my headphones and put them in so as to not overhear any more of their private matter.

. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .

          "Take your shirt off."

I take out my headphone on hearing something and whirl around to see Jhanvi leaning against the wall entering the kitchen. I wonder if it's a habit for her to wake up in the middle of the night. What is this, second or the third time? "Did you need something?"

She smiles, shakes her head and takes small steps inside while nodding towards what I had been doing, "I said, it would help if you'd take your shirt off."

"Oh," I answer realizing she had spotted me struggling to change my bandage. I wouldn't have needed a change if I hadn't fell on it during the wrestling match. I bring my sleeve down to cover the bandage. "No, it's fine."

She shakes her head in disappointment and crosses her arms over her chest, "It's bleeding, Aarush. You need to change it."

When I make no attempt for any movement, she sighs dropping her arms by her side and walks around me to pull out a chair. I imagined it was for her and proceed to leave her alone when her hand envelops around my wrist. I glance back at her in confused surprise.

"Sit," she orders.

I begin to argue, "Mrs. Raizada, I..." but pause when she raises her brow in an open challenge. It's a clear indicator that I should know better than to rile up a pregnant lady. This situation is entirely unfair. How is anyone supposed to start an argument when she always uses that card? First by compelling me to join in on breakfast and now this.

Though I stop the verbal argument, I subtly tug my hand out of her hold. Her eyes travel to my wrist before realizing and pulling back.

I try to leave again when she stops me again with a question, "Why are you so against accepting help from other people? It's not a good habit to hold. Trust me, I used to be just like that until recently."

I really, really wanted to ask her why she asked so many questions. Why she would speak so much? The only thing holding me back was polite nature. Why did she not understand that her questions pricked at things I try so hard to keep myself shielded from?

I walk back to the counter where the first aid box rested open and pick up the scissors. "Because I don't need help," I reply to her and cut off the bandage instead of what I had been doing previously: unrolling.

Alas, as I am starting to learn, she is relentless. She follows and stands beside me, leaning back on the counter to keep her weight off her fractured leg. "Why do you army men never drop the tough act?"

If only she knew this was not the tough act preventing me from accepting help or my stubbornness to keep attempting to change this bandage without taking off my shirt. In the past years, I have turned cold. Closed off. Yes. But that was not it right now.

There is something I need to keep hidden from her.

As I pick up a fresh roll of bandage, she speaks again. "Statue."

I raise my eyes at the random yet such a familiar word Barkha would always say when she needed to get her way and I wouldn't let her. I swallow harshly, "Wh-what?"

The look on Jhanvi's face is of interest as she says, "What, never played the game as a child? Now, freeze. I am going to..."

When she tries to take the roll of bandage from my hand, I pull it away from her and mutter in an aloof voice, "We are not children." At the same time, I make futile attempts to push back the sweet childhood memories now ruined. The memories that only give me pain.

Still, she forwards her hand to snatch it out from mines while scolding, "Oh, stop being a spoilt sport. The longer you stand here arguing with me, the longer I stand here too. Now you may not feel pain or want to express it, but I am not as strong as you and this broken leg fucking hurts without painkillers so you just stand there with your mouth shut and let me help you, okay?"

All the while, I stare at her. Her brown eyes with a fire in them refusing to burn out. Her stubbornness has no match. The more I try to fight her, the more determined she gets to help me. I weigh my options before deciding... what I am trying to hide from her, she may not even catch. It's a subtle hint she does not know about.

It's a risk but I take it to get her to leave as soon as possible. "Okay," I answer in a low voice. I don't understand the look of surprise that crosses her face. Did she think I would still keep fighting her? I am not as stubborn as to keep her in pain. I wouldn't do that to anyone who didn't deserve it.

With one hand, I unbutton my shirt while she ruffles through the first aid box and throws yet another question at me, "Can I ask you something? Just out of curiosity. Why do you always wear shirts? I mean, even at night? I am sure tees are more comfortable." When I remain silent, she looks sideways at me and raises her brow. "What, not going to answer because I forced you to accept help?"

My lips twitch in a smile for some reason before I point out, "No... you told me to keep my mouth shut."

A second later, she narrows her eyes unsure whether to take offense. "Are you patronizing me? Because I doubt you are that obedient of a person."

Obedience. When you live my life, you learn a thing or two about it. I mutter, "You don't know me, Mrs. Raizada."

Her mouth opens to say something but thinks better of it. Without another word then, she returns her attention to the first aid box and pulls out the bottle of Dettol with a piece of cotton. Unscrewing the lid and instantly met with the scent, she exhales with a frown. "Forgot how much I hated the scent of this. Hiten, he'd always get into..."

As she turns to face me, the next word trails off. Her eyes linger over my chest for a second longer before traveling up to meet my eyes. I want to look away but why can't I? The way she is looking at me... with some affinity and sympathy, as if she is not just looking at me but she is really looking at me. Seeing me for what I am.

It's that feeling I was once familiar with from the only person to ever know me inside and out.

At that reminder, I break the trance. A sense of guilt forms in my heart for thinking this could be connected to that. How could I ever get that same feeling? No. It's wrong. It's an illusion.

I grab her wrist which had unintentionally started to make their way to my chest, just before she would touch me. Her lips part in surprise and her eyes flicker up to mines. They widen just slightly as if realizing only then what she had been about to do. She clears her throat as if to gather herself before breaking the momentary silence between us and darting her eyes everywhere but at me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare at your, um, scars. I mean, I know you're in the army and so... yeah. Sorry."

Ironically, relief washes over me as her focus had been on the scars rather than what I had been worrying about. While she wraps the clean bandage around my arm, my eyes remain on her as she makes all conscious efforts to keep her eyes on the task at hand.

I figure it could be my scars making her uncomfortable, though I don't know her well enough to be making that statement. Then again, how uncomfortable did she have to be? Because it did not deter her from asking questions. "So did you get the tattoos to cover your scars?"

I wish, but sadly the reality is reversed. I do not tell her that though.

"Isn't there a rule in the army against them? I remember reading something about it a while back." At my silence, she glances up before smiling back softly. "You don't have to take the game so seriously. You are making me look a blabbermouth and a fool - neither of which are attractive qualities to hold."

There are only so many times I can bite back my tongue. Exhaling, I say. "Okay, I ask this as politely as I can: has anyone ever told you that you ask way too many questions?"

I thought she would take offense. Only, she laughs quietly in response. "All the time. But tell me, is that not how you get to know a person? By asking questions. Answering. Asking a few of your own?"

"What's the point? In a few days, this will be over."

Her hand stills and she takes a tiny step back to look me in the eye. She counters, "By that logic, I have no idea if I am going to survive this. Does that mean I should just stop? That I shouldn't even fight for a chance to live? For my baby to have a best chance at a good life?"

I am forced to consider her perspective and apply it to myself. So far, I have not been fighting to live. Hell, I have not even considered wanting to live. I just... stopped caring. Perhaps noticing I am deep in thought, she returns to bandaging my arm, taking my silence to be an answer enough.

Just as she ties the ends, I find myself giving her an answer. "You asked me what I had to live for."

Her eyes flicker up in confusion for a second before remembering when she had asked that. She nods just in response, her hands dropping by her side.

Unconsciously, my hand reaches my chain. Her eyes follow my movement and if there is any curiosity, she does not ask it. She simply waits for me to continue. I cannot bring myself to touch the rings hanging off it. I can only look at it as I give her an answer, "Right now, it is to make sure you survive this. That you live past this."

She won't get this but she has no idea what I am putting on the sideline for her. Until yesterday, my life had only one purpose. There was only one goal. When did she get past that priority? My brain tells me it is wrong when it should be my heart telling me that. And yet, this strange calmness I feel screams back that no matter how wrong it might be, it feels right.

I owe this to her.

I can ignore everything else about who I am and what connects us, but I cannot ignore this.

Her eyes widen slightly, baffled at this unexpected answer of mine. I do not give her a moment to mull over it as I stand up from the chair, "Is it my turn?"

"For what?"

"To ask a question."

"Uh, sure."

"Why didn't you take action against your Aunt?"

She did not even take a moment to think of an answer, as if she already had a confident one ready. As if she had thought about it previously already. "You know how they say, 'what's done cannot be undone' or how 'what's said cannot be unsaid'? I think, similarly, one tragedy cannot be undone by committing another. If I do to her what my father and grandfather did, what does that say about me? How am I any different? How can I hope to be different from them if I am not willing to put this to bed?"

In our training, we are not taught the lesson of mercy. We are not taught how to be kind to our enemies. Yes, there is diplomacy and politics but that is an entirely different arena if you ask me. We are taught how to survive, and that can at times mean doing anything necessary. But, this, right here... she does not realize how simply and naively she teaches this valuable lesson. The fact that not everything is about revenge for the wrongs done to us. It is also about being the bigger person and to break an endless cycle of destruction.

I doubt she will ever truly know just what this means to me. She may just have saved me from myself. From all the choices I would have made without a second thought if not for this. From scraping away parts of my soul which would have been irredeemable after the fact.

. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .