Chapter 27: The Moon and the Mirage

KAVERI

The familiar scent of antiseptic and the bustling energy of the hospital were a powerful antidote to the stifling atmosphere of the Khanna mansion. Back in my element, surrounded by purpose and the tangible results of my work, the shadows of the past few weeks seemed to recede, if only slightly. My left leg, though still occasionally stiff and prone to ache when the weather shifted, held no true pain. The rigorous physical therapy had worked wonders, proving my body’s resilience, even if my mind felt less robust. I was me again. Or, at least, I was trying very hard to be.

Mahira, bless her pragmatic heart and sharp wit, had greeted my return with a predictable mixture of relief at having me back and thinly veiled amusement at my recent dramatic escapades, she was at the hospital. "You're back! Finally! I was starting to think Neil Khanna had kidnapped you and replaced you with a Stepford Wife programmed to take bullets for him," she quipped, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as I limped into my office.

I rolled my eyes, a genuine smile, rare these days, touching my lips. "Hardly. He's probably relieved to have me out of his hair. The man radiates barely-contained impatience, even when I'm just sitting still."

"Oh, come on, Kaveri," she teased, leaning back in her chair, observing me with that unnerving perceptiveness that only best friends possess. "You can't tell me you didn't notice a slight shift in his behavior. He was practically glued to your side after the shooting, wasn't he? Protective, even.

And that little incident in his bedroom… you told me about." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her gaze pointedly flicking upwards towards the grand, imposing ceiling of my office, a clear nod to the mansion's pervasive gossip network.

My cheeks flushed despite myself, a tell-tale heat spreading across my face. The memory of Neil hovering over me, the intensity in his eyes, the almost-kiss, flashed vividly through my mind, amplified by the thought of his mother's knowing gaze in the ceiling mirror’s reflection.

"It was a misunderstanding, Mahira. A moment of… awkwardness. He was grateful, that's all. Deeply grateful that I saved his precious company from being fleeced. Nothing more." I busied myself with a stack of patient files, meticulously avoiding her probing gaze, pretending the sudden surge of heat in my face was simply from the effort of moving my still-recovering leg.

"Grateful enough to almost kiss you?" she countered, undeterred, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm telling you, Kaveri, something's brewing there. Even you can't deny the chemistry. I saw the news reports, the way he looked at you, the way he carried you. That wasn't just corporate gratitude."

"There is no chemistry," I insisted, my voice firmer than I felt, injecting it with all the medical authority I could muster. "There is a legal arrangement, a shared living space, and a profound difference in opinion on almost every topic. He tolerates me. I tolerate him. End of story. We are a perfectly functional, if forced, alliance, for the sake of the project, nothing else."

Mahira just sighed, shaking her head slowly, a pitying smile on her face. "You're impossible. You're so determined to see the worst in him, or perhaps, to protect yourself, that you're missing what's right in front of you. A man doesn't react like that for just a 'legal arrangement'."

I just shrugged, dismissing her words with a wave of my hand. I had more pressing matters to attend to. The hospital needed me. My patients needed me. And the last thing I needed was to analyze the complex, infuriating, and undeniably unsettling presence of Neil Khanna in my life. The past few weeks had been a chaotic whirlwind, and returning to routine was my only way to regain myself.

ヽ(●´ε｀●)ノ

The relative peace of the hospital was a distant memory as I returned to the Khanna residence. The atmosphere within the mansion was… different. Not the usual hushed formality, but a vibrant, almost giddy, flurry of activity. A palpable excitement filled the air, laced with the sweet, heavy scent of incense and exotic flowers. Servants bustled about, their movements quicker, more animated than usual, decorating the vast halls with intricate rangoli patterns on the marble floors and draping colourful fabrics over every available surface.

Intrigued by the sudden transformation, I found maa in the main hall, her usual imperious grace softened by a look of serene joy as she directed the final touches to a massive floral arrangement. "What's going on, Maa ?" I asked, my voice echoing slightly in the opulent space.

She turned, her eyes softening perceptibly as they rested on me, a display of warmth. "Kaveri, you are home, Tomorrow is Karva Chauth, beta," she announced, her voice almost gentle. "I was so deeply engrossed in the preparations that I didn't notice you. How did you like the arrangements and decoration for tomorrow's pooja? Every year, the pooja is done af our house, It is a deeply spiritual and cherished tradition in our family."

My eyebrows rose, a flicker of surprise passing through me. Karva Chauth. I do know about it, but one that felt utterly alien to my own reality. A world away from my own pragmatic life, where marriage was a partnership of equals, not a sacred vow to a man who saw me as an unfortunate necessity.

"Oh," I said, my voice carefully neutral, a bland mask over my internal thoughts. "That's… interesting, the decoration is very beautiful Maa."

"But it's okay beta, you don't have to fast tomorrow, you just recovered from the injury." She gazed at me with care laced in her words.

It was true. The thought of fasting all day, particularly after my recent recovery and the residual weakness, was daunting. My doctor's brain immediately flagged the potential for dehydration, electrolyte imbalance. And the idea of fasting for Neil… It felt absurd. A mockery of the very tradition. What well-being could I possibly wish for a man who continually infuriated me?

I sighed inwardly. The cultural pressure was immense, a tide I couldn't possibly fight without causing offense, without seeming disrespectful. And despite my deep reservations, a part of me, a small, stubborn, almost rebellious part, felt compelled to participate. It was, after all, a tradition. To maintain a semblance of normalcy and, perhaps, to simply prove I could endure it.

"It's okay Maa, I'm fine now I will fast tomorrow." I said, my voice firm, projecting a confidence I didn't entirely feel. "I'm strong enough. And I understand the importance of family traditions."

"Are you sure beta, you know it's not at all important. Not more important than you and your health" Neil’s mother’s face softened, a genuine warmth, entering her eyes. I smiled at her "I'm sure Maa. "

"Okay then. I will explain the rituals to you fully. It's a truly beautiful experience."

No offence to mumma but beautiful experience my ass.

I did agree, no I forced her to let me fast for a particular whiskey eyed Khanna. Although I instantly regretted it. How will I live without food for a whole day when I am always hungry and barely survive without eating for three hours. Damn, it's gonna be a memorable day in the autobiography of my life.

ヽ(●´ε｀●)ノ

The next day dawned, a strange blend of quiet devotion and bustling preparations. I woke before the sun, joining the other married women of the household in the puja room. I dressed in a vibrant, jewel-toned saree chosen by Maa, adorned with traditional jewelry. I felt utterly out of place, an imposter playing a role in a play I hadn't rehearsed, a bride in a wedding that felt like a dream.

I gazed at Neil, who was sleeping peacefully by my side. His eyes closed and lips pressed into a thin line, strands of his hair covering his forehead. Then, my gaze went to his strong muscular biceps. Hell couldn't be more handso-control Kaveri . God please bless my eyes and my mind. After cursing myself for the nth time, I went downstairs.

The hours stretched on, long and arduous. The initial enthusiasm of the morning gave way to the gnawing pangs of hunger and the parched dryness of my throat. I tried to focus on my work, logging into the hospital's systems from my room, reviewing patient files, staying as busy as possible to distract myself. But the constant awareness of my empty stomach and the weight of the unbroken fast made it difficult.

I drank water sparingly before sunrise, but not a drop touched my lips after, adhering strictly to the ancient rules. My recent recovery made the physical strain more pronounced than it might have been otherwise.

As the day waned, the excitement among the other women grew, a tangible energy in the air. The mansion buzzed with hushed preparations for the evening ceremony. The women gathered in the elaborate puja room, their faces glowing with anticipation, dressed in their finest, most colourful attire. We performed the various rituals, chanting prayers, listening to the stories of Sati Savitri, a legendary wife whose devotion saved her husband from the clutches of death.

I felt oddly detached, an observer rather than a participant, watching the other women, their faces illuminated by the flickering candlelight, their love for their husbands radiating in the sacred space. Maa, her face serene, her eyes filled with a quiet, profound devotion as she looked at baba, Neil’s dad, gentle unspoken connection that I envied more than I cared to admit.

ヽ(●´ε｀●)ノ

Finally, as dusk deepened into night, the moon, a slender silver disc in the inky sky, appeared, casting a shimmering, almost ethereal glow over the sprawling the city. The courtyard below filled with women, holding decorative thalis with lamps and offerings. The ritual began. Women performed puja to the moon, then turned to their husbands, offering prayers and a ritualistic sip of water to break the fast. The air was thick with the scent of incense, the soft clinking of bangles, and the murmured blessings of wives for their husbands’ longevity.

But Neil was late.

"Beta where are you? You know what time it is? And out of all days, today? You know today is karva chauth and how low is Kaveri’s patience when it comes to food? It wouldhave been better if you stayed at home like your baba. For today atleast"

"Yes maa, I know all of the above and I left the office early even, but I didn't expect traffic. I'm not some kind of magical human that gets to know things before they happen you know." he explained to Maa, apologetically. The sound of honking cars and people swearing was queit audible.

"Accha? You come back home today, I'll tell you-"

"Are preet, jao tum vrat kholne ki taiyaari kar lo, mai boldeta hu use." Baba interrupted in between, taking the phone from Maa's hands.

" aap hi dekho, bahu ka pehla karva chauth hai aur-"

"Aajayega woh aap chaliye" Maa rolled her eyes at baba while he guided her towards the dining room maintaining a mischievous expression. I just stood there watching them with a smile on my face.

I was hungry and angry but this was more interesting to watch.

"Neil beta jaldi ghar aaja nahi toh bahu se pehle teri maa gussa hojayegi" baba whispered lightly

"Aa raha hu baba, ab udke thodi naa aaunga" he said in a tired and sarcastic voice as if he was done with them.

Baba hung up and looked at me in an apologetic expression. "Sorry beta-"

" no baba its okay, thodi der ki hi toh baat hai. Aap jaiye Maa aapka intezaar kar rahi hongi" I said with a smile even though I was dying of hunger inside.

He smiled at me and left after patting my cheeks.

The other women, their fasts successfully opened, their faces beaming with relief and affection as they looked at their husbands, began to trickle inside, drawn by the promise of food and celebration. Baba, escorted his wife inside, his arm gently around her waist, their bond a visible, sweet embrace.

Maa came over to me, her expressions concerned,

" wait, I'll call him again-"

"It's okay Maa, he must be coming. You too please go downstairs and have food with baba, I'll stay here till he comes."

A weak smile touched her face as she nodded and left downstairs.

I remained on the balcony, alone, watching the moon, now a little higher in the sky. The silence, punctuated only by the distant hum of city life, amplified the strange, hollow feeling in my chest. Why was I waiting? Why had I put myself through this grueling fast? For a man who barely tolerated my presence, for a marriage that was nothing more than a legal fiction?

It was absurd. A cruel joke. I felt like a fool. I wanted to marry a man I loved. A man that loved me, cared for me. I had dreamed of a marrige where I would come home everyday, to find my man waiting for me or I would wait for him. when he would come home, we would eat together, share things about our day, whisper sweet nothings , maybe have some sexy time and then fall asleep in each other's arms.

But I guess universe told me to fuck off.

Then, I heard the familiar rumble of Neil’s car pulling into the driveway below. A few moments later, his quick, decisive footsteps on the marble stairs.

He appeared on the balcony, his face etched with fatigue, his tie loosened, his suit jacket discarded. His dark eyes, tired but sharp, immediately found mine, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"Kaveri," he said, his voice low, a hint of questioning in his tone. "I'm here. Let's wrap up the rituals."

I sighed, not wanting to say anything that creates a scene because I'm damn sure I will say something very inappropriate if I open my mouth. I'm the person from the sneakers ad kyuki jab bhookh lagti hai toh mera dimag pagal hojata hai.

So I hid the turmoil within, the gnawing hunger, the exasperation. God save me from cursing the man I fasted for.

He stepped closer, his gaze intense, probing, cutting through my carefully constructed facade. "You fasted," he stated, not a question, but an observation, a slight furrow in his brow. Of course I did, idot. Wasn’t it obvious?

I met his gaze, my chin lifting slightly in defiance, determined not to reveal any weakness, any crack in my composure. "It's a tradition. I respected your mother's wishes. And my body needed a challenge after lying around for weeks."

"Challenge huh? We both kow you can't survive for 3 hours without food, still you fasted the whole day."

"And still you choose to come late?" I stated trying to deviate him from the topic.

"You don't consider me your husband, Kaveri. Not in any real sense of the word. So why? Why put yourself through this? For a man you claim to dislike?" he countered, completely ignoring my question, his voice dropping, a dangerous, challenging edge creeping in. He was a master at finding the weakest point in an argument.

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. It was the question I had been avoiding all day, the very core of the absurdity of my situation. It threatened to unravel the carefully constructed facade of our relationship, to expose the fragile, unspoken complexities that lay beneath.

I looked away, towards the expanse of city lights, towards the distant, indifferent moon, searching for an answer that would satisfy him without revealing too much, without exposing the conflicting emotions that churned within me. "I'm your wife," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper, yet ringing with a reluctant admission of fact. "In the eyes of the world. In the eyes of your family. Even if I deny it, even if you deny it, it's a legal, social fact. And I respect facts, Mr Khanna. Even inconvenient ones."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on me, his expression unreadable, a complex mix of frustration, contemplation, and perhaps, something else, something I couldn't quite name. Then, he sighed, a sound that held a strange mixture of exasperation and… a peculiar softness.

"You're impossible, Kaveri," he said, his voice low, almost a caress, laced with a familiar exasperation that somehow felt different tonight. "Utterly, infuriatingly impossible."

He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me, his formidable presence once again filling the space between us, making the vast balcony suddenly feel intimately small. And in that moment, under the indifferent gaze of the moon, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of his cologne, I felt a familiar, unsettling pull, a strange, undeniable connection to this man who was my husband in name only.

A connection I was determined to deny, even as it threatened to consume me. The fast had drained my physical reserves, but my emotional ones felt even more depleted, caught in the strange, ambiguous space between us. And for the first time, looking at him under the cold moonlight, I wondered if this forced proximity, this strange dance of obligation and unexpected intimacy, was leading us somewhere I didn't want to go, somewhere I couldn't possibly control.

He walked towards the silver thali I had prepared, picking up the sieve. The anger slowly drained out of me, replaced by an overwhelming sense of fatigue. He was right. We were both exhausted. And I was desperately thirsty.

​I held up the thali with the small earthen lamp and looked through the sieve at the majestic moon. The shimmering light cast long shadows on the roof. Then, I lowered the sieve and saw Neil’s face, his features illuminated by the moonlight and the soft glow of the lamp. His eyes were focused, his expression solemn. Despite the rushed, awkward argument, in that moment, there was an unexpected vulnerability between us.

​He poured a small amount of water into a glass and held it to my lips. The water, cool and pure, was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. He then fed me the first morsel of mithai. As I broke my fast, a profound sense of relief, both physical and emotional, washed over me.

​He simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "Now, let's get you inside before you pass out."