Radha grimaced as she pushed open the door. Everything was as she had left it three weeks ago. Two suitcases were propped up against the far wall, a newspaper was carefully folded on the low coffee table and the room was, in general, littered with vases of [no longer] fresh flowers and small nick-nacks that a family seems to acquire over time.
Everything was the same but the missing warmth and chatter almost made her tear up.
She ignored the large framed photograph staring at her and reluctantly placed the struggling bundle on the floor. With barely a glance at her and more concentration than a two year old should have, Princess pattered across the murky living room and started investigating behind each door.
"Papa?"
Radha bit her lip and hated herself for putting Princess through the disappointment of finding the house empty.
All the more reason to find the number
Radha sighed and headed straight towards the short flight of steps that took her to the study at the back of the small house. Ignoring the pang she felt on not seeing a familiar face perched on a chair flipping through a musty book, or seated behind a mountain of papers, she moved towards the large oak desk and rifled through the bottom draw until she paused at an old creased photograph.
She handled it hesitantly and traced a soft finger over the first of three figures. Tall, slim and with a devilish smile that she missed so much. Princess had obviously inherited her smile from her fathers' side. The one in the middle was easily a head taller and grinned in much the same way. It wasn't difficult to see the resemblance between the two brothers.
Purposefully ignoring the third in the photograph, she flipped it over and read the messy scrawl that could only be Swapnil's handwriting. She punched in the number on the study phone but her hands shook so badly that it took her three attempts before she heard the insistent ringing on the line.
The voice on the other end sounded gruff and tired but still made her hitch her breath before she managed to force out a single tentative word.
"Shlok?"
*****
Nasik, 5:13 pm
Shlok was pissed. Not in the sense that he was drunk; the weak drinks offered in the middle of the afternoon had just given him a headache. No, he was pissed in that he was furious, annoyed and downright humiliated.
He'd already gone through all the possible ways of getting out of this sticky situation, examined and cross examined each and everyone until he was sure he hadn't ever paid as much attention to anything his life, but after hours of relentless scheming he'd accepted defeat at last. He was well and truly stuck.
His hands itched to wrap themselves around Urvi's pretty neck and wring it mercilessly. He would probably do it with a cheery smile on his face as well. Only problem was, she was already on the plane to France with Chopra. Shlok made a sound of disgust.
The rejection of Urvashi, his long time [albeit secret] girlfriend would probably not have aggravated him so much had it been under other circumstances. But four days later he was to unveil the newest bride of the Nerulakar family in front of hundreds of friends, family and gossip hungry reporters who would undoubtedly rip him apart if he didn't show up with the 'love of his life' he had kept hidden away from everyone.
But more importantly, Shlok couldn't believe that he had been dumped for the oily Chunnilal Chopra. The name was something mothers used to scare the disobedient children with, not the name of men who managed to snag famous models right under the nose of their famous industrialist boyfriends.
Shlok scowled as he remembered Urvashi's sympathetic look and the apologetic squeeze she had given him.
"I'm so sorry Shlok, but I can't live a lie longer. I love Chunni and we're both moving to France so I can model for him. I'm sure you'll find someone special."
And then she had patted him. On his head.
Shlok groaned. Could his life get any worse?
The pocket of his jacket vibrated as his mobile went of. It had been ringing continuously for the past 6 hours until he had barked at his harassed assistant to leave him alone for the day. But short of migrating to some far-flung village in the North of India, Shlok knew he couldn't put of the calls any longer.
Without bothering to check the ID, he answered and froze at the sharp intake of breath on the other end. Shlok knew who it was before his name had even rolled out of her mouth in that breathy voice she used when she was nervous.
His life had taken another turn and something told him that it was for the worse.
[AN: I know Fics aren't hugely popular with this forum but I want to make sure that I'm writing this for an audience. So if I get three members interested in me continuing with this, I'll continue. If not I'll come up with an alternative storyline and wrap this up in two chapters – though knowing me, it'll have to be a very long chapter
P.S. The word pissed is not meant to be insulting in any way. I use it so often that it didn't occur to me that someone might be offended by my language. It's used to describe someone who is annoyed, or just very drunk]
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