Vikrant

"Do you like the place?" I ask Nandini, looking at her from across the table.

I felt ecstatic when she said yes to going out with me. A little hope budded in my heart about her possibly giving our marriage a chance as time passed.

I know I'll need to work harder to gain her trust and hopefully her love, too, but I feel she is worth it. She is worth trying for, worth waiting for.

Not only did she agree to come out for dinner with me, but she also wore the dress I bought for her. The dress she had loved when we went to the mall that one day.

I was waiting for her in the living room when she descended the stairs, the dress looking like it was made for her.

The red color complemented her skin tone, the design accentuating her curves. And with the elegant makeup she put on, I could only stare at her, my breath hitching as she ambled toward me with a slight smile on her face, looking like an angel.

I had sighed then, lowly chuckling and shaking my head, unable to believe how I, Vikrant Sisodiya, fell head over heels with Nandini Iyer, who is such a contrast to other girls I used to date.

Maybe it's because she is such a contrast that I fell for her.

"This is a beautiful place, Vikrant," she replies, looking around the place.

I also looked around, glad that I had brought Nandini here. The ambiance here is warm, the live music soothing, and people have been raving in their reviews about the delicious food served in this place.

That's why I thought this place would be perfect for our first date.

I'm not sure if Nandini thinks of it as a date, but for me, it is. And I'll make sure it goes smoothly, without any hitch, not letting any awkwardness seep between us.

"So, the party is only five days away. I hear that your gown is ready now. All alterations done?" I ask.

Although I'm itching to see how she looks in that gown, I want to wait until the party.

Mom even asked me if I wanted to see the photo she took while Nandini was wearing it, but I refused, wanting to wait until that night.

I know it's somewhat silly, but I want to savor each moment of seeing her in that beautiful gown custom-made for her. I want to be with her that whole night, drinking her in, making new memories with her.

There is still no surety about what will become of us in the future. I don't know whether she'll give our relationship one more chance or not.

But no matter the outcome, I'll keep trying, making new memories with her that will either serve as a beginning of our forever or become the wistful memories to remember Nandini after she walks out of my life.

When I told Nandini I would respect whatever decision she'll take, I meant it.

Some time back, I had come across a saying. It was something like—She was my love, so I let her go. She would have been in my arms if she were my obsession.

I had huffed after reading it then, unable to understand why someone would let their love go.

But now, I have realized why I could not understand it then. It was because I had never loved anyone truly until then.

Now that I have fallen for my wife, I realize how true those words are. I love Nandini and desperately hope she decides to stay with me forever. But I won't force her to be with me. It should be her decision, her free will, to either choose me or leave me.

Still, a man can hope, can't he?

That's why I will keep hoping until the very last second.

"The alterations are finished. And I also went to Latika's boutique with Mom to finalize the jewelry I'll be wearing with the gown," Nandini says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, making me frown.

"Do you not like the gown? Or the jewelry? If that's the matter, you can tell Mom about it. Latika is her friend, but I'm sure Mom won't get offended if you—"

"No, Vikrant," Nandini interrupts me, her voice hesitant. "The gown is beautiful, and the jewelry is exquisite. But they are costly. I had reluctantly agreed to wear that gown because I had thought I would be able to pay for it. But the jewelry is too much. Do you think Mom will feel bad if I return it to her before I leave? Because I don't think I'll be able to afford it."

A pang jolts my heart as I process her words. She is still thinking of leaving.

You have time, Vikrant, to try and change her mind. Don't let the desolateness get to you yet. I reassure myself, taking a deep breath before starting to speak.

"I'm sure Mom will understand. In fact, she'll also be proud of your way of thinking." I smile at her. "I know I am."

She smiles back at me, about to say something when the waiter interrupts us.

"Umm, please give us some time to decide," I tell him, and he leaves after nodding at me.

"What would you like to have?" I ask, and she looks at the menu, her eyes widening as she continues peering at it.

When she keeps looking at the menu and doesn't reply to me, I gently tap on her hand. "What happened? Do you not like anything on the menu?"

"Oh, umm, no. There are a couple of dishes that I like," she replies.

"Tell me then. What are the dishes that you like? I will order them for you."

Although her reticent demeanor makes me frown, I patiently wait for her to reply.

A few seconds later, I narrow my eyes as I notice her look around before leaning toward me. She gestures to me to do the same, and I also lean in, wondering what's the matter.

"The dishes are too expensive, Vikrant. I can make the same at home at less than half of the prices they have quoted here," she whispers, again looking around, making sure no one has heard her. "Are the dishes always so expensive in these types of restaurants?"

I look at her curious face, her big, beautiful eyes wandering around before landing on me, and I feel my heart getting engulfed in a rush of emotions I feel for her.

"Have you never been to this type of place before?" I ask, gulping when she bites her lower lip before shaking her head.

"Maa and Papa used to go out with Vivek one night a week to have dinner, but they never took me with them. They only used to bring the take-out for me when they returned," she tells me, and I feel the emotions knotting my heart tightly as I see a sheen of tears gather in her eyes.

"You must have felt bad then. Didn't you say anything to them? Didn't you throw tantrums, demanding to take you with them?"

She blinks her eyes rapidly, preventing the tears from sliding down her face.

"I never thought about demanding anything from them." Her lips curve into a sad smile. "Maa and Papa used to taunt me, saying such things that it would always make me feel I'm a burden to them.

"That's why, instead of throwing tantrums at them for not taking me out, I used to be grateful that they at least brought a parcel for me even though I was such a nuisance to them. I used to silently thank them for not keeping me hungry while I ate the food alone in my room."

My heart clenches painfully at her words, and unable to stop myself, I hold her hands, both our faces still leaning toward each other over the table between us.

"Vivek used to fight with them, saying he too won't go if they don't take me," she continues. "When we were younger, they used to pacify him and convince him to go out with them. But as time passed, Vivek became reluctant to go out, and eventually, that tradition stopped. My parents were so stubborn that they stopped to do that altogether rather than take me with them."

"Let's make this our tradition then," I say, noticing her frown at my words. "Let's go out for dinner at least once a week. Would that be ok?"

She regards me thoughtfully for a couple of seconds. "Will we continue the tradition if we decide to get separated from each other?"

"We will," I reply, squeezing her hands gently. "We'll continue as long as you'll want to."