chapter : 17
social distancing

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k a b i r
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I have committed a mistake.

It's not that I am unaware of the consequences that my actions have resulted in. But, I am trying to hide away and close my eyes so that I live in denial. The best way to dodge a problem is to blind yourself. Trust me.

It's been three days since my marriage. Even thinking about it makes me nervous. A string of jitters flows within me.

I had landed back in the home city early this morning and wheeled my car to take a stop at home first. Home that I should have been sharing with my wife, under normal circumstances, but it was the same plain old home, empty and desolated.

It was wrong but when I had reached, there was a tiny corner of my mind that thought what if Noor actually decided to move into my home, she knew my code, she...no obviously she wouldn't have. I did no such thing to even make her feel welcome. Scratch that, I didn't even talk to her.

I fled. I escaped.

It became too heavy for me, too intimidating. I can't blame her, it was all my fault. I took an eraser that rubbed off the line between us.

I forgot that we had an agreement, one that needs to be followed. Something that needs us to stay on the opposite sides of the same line. She and I are two different people, two immiscible fluids that cannot mix.

I had felt weird after I— it was a mistake.

What had seriously gotten over me? To behave like a possessive caveman, intruding on her space, and blurring the lines. Stepping over the lines.

On our wedding day, I received a call early in the morning, a sudden invite to a conference. It was a last-minute arrangement but I grabbed that opportunity.

Anything to escape.

"I was thinking we could replace the wooden reception desk with a marbled one. It would increase cost but the quality would get better and enhance the look. Complementing the marbled flooring. What do you think sir?"

"I think that is good. What do you think Kabir?"

My name stirs my attention. I look around and realise that I am in a meeting surrounded by all the board members.

"Yes, I agree." I try offering. I have no idea what they were discussing but my answer seems to make them happy as they start discussing the hotel's renovation again.

I raise my eyes, looking at the person sitting directly opposite me on the conference table. She is taking notes of the meeting, her hair tied up and wrapped in a hairdo. The black-rimmed glasses shielding her eyes, she sticks the pencil's blunt end in her mouth, playing it with her teeth.

A habit that always irks me, but today I can't seem to feel revolting. I track all her moments, taking into note how she isn't wearing the ring...obviously. No one knows she is married. No one knows we are married.

No one knows. No one can know.

Her eyes are glued to the screen where the presentation is running, where the speaker is talking and discussing today's topic.

Today when I had come into the office, she had seen me.

Greeted me like every day. Like fucking every day.

She didn't taunt me, she didn't berate me for my actions. She didn't deem it important for her to quiz me about my stupidity.

It's not that I didn't know I took the wrong route but not being scolded about it just adds to my guilt. Noor always makes sure to reflect her disappointment, her not showing it either means that it didn't bother her much or she was troubled beyond her expectations.

The meeting goes on for another hour and after its dispersal, I walk to my cabin. My head's all over the place. I should be focusing on my work and not get trapped in this pandora of confusion.

The shiny paperweight catches my interest, I keep playing with it. Twisting and turning, spinning it. There's a thud sound against the door, the reason behind my troubled mind walks in confidently.

Her stride oozes conviction, her notepad pinched between her fingers. Her head craned to one side, balancing her phone stuck to her ear.

"Yes." A brief pause as she hears what the other person says, "No."

"Okay. Yes, yes. It's for the best. You are right. I'll do that. Okay. No. Give me a day or two. Done. Bye, take care."

She is staring at the floor, making no sort of contact with me. She seems different today, there's something that is bothering me.

It's the scent. It's her. After having her so close, breathing in her, touching her, I am not at rest. Her whole self taunts me, a forbidden fruit that I can't let go of anymore. One taste, one touch—and I am an addict.

But there has to be a full stop to these thoughts. I haven't been close to anyone recently, it's a mere bodily reaction. One I need to control. I can't involve feelings, they need to be left out of the chat. I am not capable of them and Noor doesn't deserve this tug and push.

She can't be the rope in this play of my emotions because it'll only leave her broken and marred.

The call ends but she does not remove the phone that is sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. Her eyes finally notice me.

A gaze I hadn't felt on myself. She acknowledges my presence, dropping the notepad on my desk. Some papers, to empty the load on her hands and then finally slides her phone into her jeans pocket.

She is back to wearing her casual attire, a pair of jeans with a long kurti, slitting from the sides, giving her access to move around freely. Her eyes shine behind the glasses, a glint that does nothing to soothe my miseries.

How can she look so beautiful, so damn tempting even without trying?

Stop. Stop. Red zone.

The fuck?

It's just chemical reactions and bodily reactions. Her being married to me, has given my mind a wrong signal. Being married doesn't mean she is mine. For me to make her believe this, I need to make myself aware of this fact.

That invisible knot of this apparently sacred bond has jumbled my beliefs. Noor is my wife but we'll only share a professional relationship.

So keep mind and heart and lust and liking out of this fucking equation.

"Here are the notes from today's meeting. These are the files, you had asked for. We have final interviews with the recruits today. You can prepare your questions in advance if you like. Mr Dixit will be joining us for those interviews, along with Mr Paul and Mr Kumar. Arrangements have been made."

She waits for a second for my inputs which I have none to provide. I can't make out any difference in her tone, she is respectful and acting so fucking normally.

"Okay."

"That would be all, sir." She replies. Turns around and walks out. Closing the door behind her as she leaves.

Fuck.

She isn't talking to me. She is giving me exactly what I wanted from her. I didn't want things to change, because it scared me. It terrifies me. I made a plan that I wanted to stick to, but it was me who started clomping on it first.

She did nothing to bridge those clauses. I started it. I walked closer, played and tested with the fires, that I still feel.

I stirred the waters up. I brought this tsunami of human emotions into play. Fire and water, there's coldness and there's blaring heat. Charring me and dousing me, my mind's battling with these changes.

My head's a mess, it's like a blank canvas that has been painted by throwing any random colour the artist could get his hands on. It's spluttering, it's mixing, it's dripping and clouding. It's making it difficult for me to comprehend.

How did things turn so difficult?

Well, full disclosure. I made them.

There's a self-realisation but what can I do? I can't keep stoking the fire. It will burn me and her, our hearts and fates, to black ruins.

It would not end well for either of us. I don't like her that way, I can't. I can't promise her things I ain't capable of.

Love is a foreign concept to me.

I can apologise, and tell her that I didn't want to escalate things, didn't want her to get the wrong idea and that is why I fled. I can offer a new truce. We can go back to what we were and still continue with maintaining our spots. Yes, I can do that.

Coming clean to her will help us. It's good for our marriage.

Fake marriage.

I pick up my desk phone, dialling the number to hers. She picks it up almost instantly.

"Hello." Her words come out clipped.

"Can you come to my cabin?"

She affirms and keeps the receiver down. There's a knock again, but she enters without a pause this time.

"Yes, sir?"

'You'll not call me sir. We are married...'

"I..uhm. I—" She stands unfazed. No emotions reflecting on her face. She waits patiently, irritating me.

"Fuck it." Her eyebrow raises at my choice of words. She doesn't show but I can see her enjoying herself. Her stance relaxes a bit, only minutely. And that is how I get it. Understand her play. The best revenge is to act unbothered and unaffected. She's doing exactly that.

I keep losing my patience and cool.

"Stop smiling."

"I am not laughing, sir."

"But we both know what you are thinking."

"I don't know anything, sir."

She is repeatedly saying the word. Even if she isn't speaking what's on her mind. She is taking her sweet revenge. So sweet that it's sickening, dripping off like honey, creating a mess and glueing me to her web.

"Stop saying that word, again and again."

"What word, sir?"

My restraint is hanging by a thin piece of cord, one that is threatening to snap with every ticking second. I leave my chair, trudging in her direction. Clashing and skirmishing.

"You need to drop this act. We both know what you are trying to do. I called you here to apologise for my actions. You need to stop doing this."

"I need to stop doing this, sir! I?" There's a rising tide, a wave of vexation. Hefty and treacherous.

"Yes, you." Blaming her further. I have stupidly walked into this alluring chamber again, where she stands so close. So near. A swift sway of my upper limb and I'll be able to trace her.

I can feel her without even having to make a connection. It doesn't feel wrong, that night I wiped those chalky lines so hard that invading her space, drinking in her scent, fucking all those rules about professionalism doesn't matter anymore. Doesn't feel criminal. It feels normal. It feels calming and serene.

"I am doing exactly what I should be doing. I am working, minding my own business. Why are you feeling so perturbed by it, sir?"

"You are not minding your own business. You are acting aloof, indifferent, guileful. I hate it." Harsh breathings, tangled feelings.

"Oh. That's the problem?" A soft tilt of her plush lips, one that looks so smooth, so plump. A wicked shine twinkles in her irises.

"Yes."

"Doesn't feel good to be on the receiving side, does it?"

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THE MARRIAGE ERA ;)

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royally yours,
meethi.