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-A thousand miles-
She pinned the antique brooch to her bodice. Her eyes drifting off to the view in front of her; miles of fielded grass, covered by a thin blanket of snow. Resembling a frightening evening of the future unseen. The cold breeze washed over her face, a few strands of black tresses flying onto her face. Her lean fingers rose up to remove the discomforting hair. 'Miss, Mr. Edward is expecting you', the maid said quietly, before walking away to the other rooms. Maanvi bunched up the A-line dress in her hand before walking out of the room. Cursing her luck of having to live a lifetime in one of these. The tight- constricted bodice and the long skirts that she had to wear to the Jacksons dinner. Dressing her into something of a respectful individual would not make her one.
She missed those days, walking in the leggings and thick cardigans over at Shropshire. Now those days were a thing of the past. Her life was here in London. Where her Father is. Where her Mother isn't. Her hand moved up on its own accord to brush away the tear on the corner of her eye. It had been 3 months since she had passed away. The torturous 3 months where her tears were a thing of disposed, unleashing a vivid set of memories with the call of her name. 'Pavitra', she thought. Her mother. A woman of serenity. A woman who had dealt with her highs and lows. Who had never abandoned her when she was lost to the world.
Upon arriving to the parlour room, she looked around but no one was in sight. 'Maanvi', she heard and turned around abruptly, losing her balance in between and clutching onto the side of the sofa for steadiness. 'I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you child', Edward said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she stiffened under the touch before smiling in return. Just a small smile, distant and unfamiliar. 'I was not expecting you so early. I thought you were on your way to Scotland', she stated, mildly confused and he nodded. 'Yes, I am leaving in a few minutes, I wanted to see you before I go', he answered. Maanvi looked away to the far window of the room, hiding her hatred gaze from him. He wanted to see her before he went to a business trip and all those years, where he had abandoned her mother and his child. All those years, where her mother had single handily raised her and an occasional visit from her father and money that he had offered were never enough to replace his presence in their life.
'Are you sure you will be alright for a couple of weeks here?' he asked, softly which made her fury ignite through and she finally snapped. 'A few weeks, a few years' I have learned to live with it'.
Her defeated Father walked away, with guilt and loathing for himself. He was never the Father he should have been. Running from his responsibilities and prioritizing things which hardly mattered. He remembered the day, he had seen Pavitra. Clad up in a striking mustard saree. He had been at the bar when she had been introduced to the group by her Father. Rajender Mehta. Her beautiful features and a whip of tongue had got her the attention that she didn't want. Men had been falling at her feet all evening, asking her for a dance or holding small conversations about the life of Delhi. He had noticed that her eyes stayed glued to the door at the end of the hall, as if planning her runaway which had made his lips curl up in amusement and she noticed.
Her eyes flashed to the side to meet his face and she had asked him what the matter was. He had been surprised to see the young woman behave bluntly in public affair, asking or more like demanding answer. He had told her about the exit plan that he had seen brewing in her mind and she had laughed, she had thrown back her head and laughed and that's where it all started. His increasing trips to Delhi, visits to her house as if for meeting her parents and their love had grown.
He remembered the day that she had walked into his study, clutching her bag closer to her and sobbing, saying she was pregnant and in that moment his life had changed. His love had become a burden and he had thought of the world. His one mistake in life was that in that moment, he had thought about the world and not her. He had promised to take her away from the world where she had been thrown out of but he had also said that he will not be able to marry her. That he will not be able to give the life to her as she desired. His Father will never agree on an Indian girl. He had said it enough. She had agreed to his conditions, she had wished nothing but for their child to have his name; wanting nothing in return and this was the guilt that he had to live with.
'When I am back from Scotland. We are going to be visiting India. I hope you will be joining me', he stated before walking out and leaving her in the haunting silence.
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What do you think?
Much love, E.
The moment when you give up a night out after a submittion of an assignment to write a new story- yes I know I am sad and all but at least I wouldn't be freezing and walking barefoot-way!
