Chapter 2

I leaned back on the plush cushion of my office chair making circles on my temple with index finger of my hands. That cannot be cure for a severe headache and I suspect a borderline cold, but massaging temple is the most instinctive thing I do when I am hit with headache.

Lack of sleep was unleashing its true colours interrupting with my work. This time I can't even blame Arnav or the girls for keeping me up for anything as mundane as family time, like once when they wanted to watch Frozen together because it was midweek off from school. I am supposed to take the blame solely. I hate that thought more than constant headache and occasional sneezing.

"A minute." The door to my cabin opened and Harsha from Human resources popped her head in.

"Sure!" I gave her the smile I have ready and practiced for any professional interaction.

"The cheque got through and your account must be credited with pay already." She smiled back at me her professional interaction smile. I not for the first time wondered even if her out of work smile was this....toothy.

I nodded and she left as quickly as she came. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I checked the messages to see the familiar six figure salary credited to my account. A small smile spread on my lips at the sight. If this isn't motivation to work harder and harder, what could be? Of course, if anyone asks, I am going to say my motivation is 'client satisfaction along with growth of the company.' Who doesn't lie?

I remember my first salary was the same except that it didn't have last two zeros. Just like today, even that day I kept staring at my small nokia phone etching the message in memory. That day beside me was Arnav my then colleague, if you could call a fellow intern that, and this day I had a cabin of my own in an office where I joined as just an intern. I have Arnav too, I guess, maybe in spirit.

The day we received our first stipend was the day Arnav and I went on our first date. Well, the date I consider our first. It was at a Chinese restaurant that refused to give us fork. Until few years ago, Arnav used to tell everyone our first date was the day first time he asked me out, at a food truck eating half burnt momos. Once after I gave him cold shoulder for sharing that not so fascinating first date story with my colleagues, he stopped referring to it as our first date or maybe he stopped referring to anything about our pre-wedding days as whole.

I inhaled sharply as I clicked the power button and threw the phone on my work table. Has Arnav changed? I wondered not for the first time.

We didn't have a fairy tale romance. Nothing akin to the princess stood by the prince when the whole world outcaste him story Arnav keeps telling the girls. It was just a silly team up we had to do for our six months internship period. We were in odd number. No one wanted to pick the awkward boy who interacted with no one during one week orientation. So, when it came to me to choose between him and a girl who was giving me 'I-will-try-to-be-your-new-clingy-best friend', I chose him. Arnav was exceptional with words and I was a genius when it came to creative ideas and marketing, so we made the best team for next three years till Arnav took a three week paternity break and never went for a full time job in the past nine years.

When we were married after two years of dating, I was already climbing ladders in steady pace career front while Arnav was switching departments unsure where to fit in with his lack of direction. "I am working." He would shrug when I ask him why he lacks ambition or drive. Technically, Arnav didn't lack both. He just didn't have them enough to fight in cut throat corporate world. He is the kind of man who steps back when everyone is fighting for the pie and says he will wait for his turn or just grab a donut instead.

We both understood each other for what we were. He was never my shame and I was never his ego bruiser. We had a smooth life. Damn! Why am I saying it in past tense? We still have, we do, a smooth life, trust me. It's just that, sometimes, I feel...ermm...I don't know.

It is not mere guilt like my therapist says. Maybe I have not learned to be less perfect in anything. In spite of being the middle child with an elder brother and younger sister, I have always received special attention, because I was naturally, at the cost of being pompous, Perfect. Arnav adored me to the point of kissing the land I walked.

I don't know when frustration of being less started to plague my mind. It is as if I woke up one day and knew I had disappointed my closed ones.

My earliest memory of frustration is when I was in the kitchen making toast for the kids. Misha and Nidhi were giggling and shoving each other. I was about to ask what got them all excited, when Arnav entered the kitchen. His lips spread into a huge grin looking at the kids giggling. He made some comment about dinosaurs eating grasshoppers and the three of them burst into uncontrollable laughter. I felt like a fool standing in my own kitchen feeling like an outsider. They were a team and I was a mere.... housemate?

I didn't mean to blame Arnav for everything, but he seemed the most convenient to blame and well; only he was available. I can't really blame my own children, you know. I might not be the ideal mother, but I have my maternal instincts in place.

From being the sun in solar system of my near and dear ones, I went on to become a Pluto. Pluto, though we have been taught to believe is part of the solar system in childhood. We go on to realize that it isn't. As a consolation, it can be mentioned with others, but it really can't be one of them.

I was not the sit in a corner and cry type. I have always been more of an action type. So, I picked up my phone and called my husband. He has given me enough lectures a day before about prioritizing the family. Now, it is time to call him and make him culpable for not calling me, his wife in past, I check my watch, 30 hours. We all know only way to make oneself feel better is to make another person feel worse, don't we?

"Hello" I said as soon as the dialler tone was gone.

"You can't take that maasi. It is my pony."

"Mishu?"

"Mumma, is that you?" her voice was breathless as if she has been running around. A sudden fear grips me. I hope she is not overdoing herself. Her asthma attacks have been minimal since we started medication, but still I can't stop worrying. I have maternal instincts. Have I not told you?

"Mishu, what are you doing? Where is Papa?"

I hear her click her tongue before she begins to answer. "He has gone to market with Daadi."

"Leaving you alone?"

"I am not alone. I am with Preeti maasi."

If you think my twenty two year old sister is best supervisor for my two daughters, then you are wrong. Preeti has her mind in clouds half the time. I don't delay in blaming Arnav in my head for leaving behind the girls with Preeti. When I talk to him later, I am going guilt trip him about it. When a rare opportunity knocks, you got to make use of it to the fullest.

"Why did Papa leave his phone?"

"Nids wanted to play Ludo."

"What is Nidhi doing? Pass on the phone to her."

I hear nothing but low voices at distance.

"Mumms, Nids says she can't leave the game. Maasi might cheat."

"Did you tell her it's me on the phone?" I ask even though I know the answer and not ready for it.

"Yes."

At 9 and 5 respectively, Misha and Nidhi are still not sensitive of how their casual action of choosing a game over own mother will hurt me. Again, I am tempted to blame Arnav for not teaching such manners. I don't care even if I am doing to my husband what many men in the past have done to their wives, against which every woman is still fighting. Prejudice and sexism are not wrong as far as they are in only in your head, isn't it?

"Tell Papa to call me when he is back, okay? Play safe and also take care of Nidhi."

Misha's bye was barely audible as she was in hurry to go back to the game.

Where is all this going? Two days ago I was sure my life's worth of hard work will be down in drain if I take even a day off to go on the vacation. Now, sitting in front of my laptop with my PPT only half way through, I can't stop thinking what I would be doing if I was there with everyone.

'Call me ASAP.'

I type the message and then immediately delete fearing it sounds desperate.

'Call me when you are free.'

I type then delete again. Isn't too formal?

'Call me if you are missing me.'

Egh...Typical insecure spouse.

'Arnav, call me.......'

I am press back space. Type it again and press back space once more. Before I know the message is sent with only Arnav's name typed.

What will he even make of that message? I wonder

Maybe it's for the best. He wouldn't know what I was thinking, but know I was at least thinking about him...about them.

***

Few days ago, I read a twitter thread about how portrayal of even so called strong, independent women in media or art is stereotypical. I couldn't have agreed more with that thread. So, I am trying to break more than one stereotype with this story. Women are not epitome of God. Neither the weak one nor the strong one. They(we) are just mere humans.

Be prepared to miss Arnav in next chapter as well. He will make an appearance through phone in Chapter 4 and in person in Chapter 5.

I know it is not your typical fan fiction and some of you may not even be interested in reading it. I just want to confess that I have come a very very long way from what is expected of a fan fiction. There was a time when my only reading material was what I found in wattpad and I wrote what I read. I don't mean to sound condescending. I still love smutty, steamy, cliché romances and even now pick one often. But, now I feel I have other things to tell as well. Once I start writing, it starts going to different places and I can't complain. If you are looking for something typical, come back in chapter 5 or feel free to skip this story of mine.

IRRELAVANT NOTE : If you or your friend is looking for promoting your book (paperback or e-book) [not wattpad book], then do contact me. Also, if you are looking for guidance to publish book in amazon, contact me.