& Then They Wed (Ampersand Love #2)

3. The Truce

3

The Truce

Rian

R ian’s eyes shot open, his forehead dotted with sweat and his chest tight. The cotton sheets he’d thrown on himself had bunched and twisted about his legs, constricting them. His hand hit his bedside table and he blindly tapped along the surface until he came upon a familiar switch. Dull light washed his room in a soft yellow glow, and he threw a glance about.

His bedroom. He was in his bedroom. He was okay. He wasn’t eight anymore, lying on the cold and wet grounds of his childhood home, waiting in the dark.

He scanned the space around him, seeing nothing, the fear still fresh. His breathing was heavy and felt loud, even to his own ears. He hunched over and forced himself to close his eyes, focusing on counting his breaths. He willed his heart to slow down from hammering so painfully within his chest.

Slapping a hand over his forehead, he hissed in surprise when the sweat burned him. A peek at his palms revealed angry crescent marks in a series of perfect indents left behind by his nails, a reminder of having clenched his fists too tight while asleep.

Once again, without being physically present, Leela Shetty had managed to wound him.

Ever since he’d returned, his nightmares had gotten worse, and it likely had to do with the fact that he had been dealing with his mother more than he had wanted to. Vindictive as always, Leela had followed through on her threat to seek retribution and had lodged a complaint against Ankit. The poor man had been harassed while at the police station until Rian had managed to convince Leela to retract her grievance.

Rian recognized that it was a power play on his mother’s part. Since he had not been responding to her calls or giving her the attention she liked to command from those around her, she had begun to resort to underhanded techniques like this to bring him to heel.

He was convinced that the closer he was to someone, the more sadistic pleasure she derived out of hurting them in order to hurt him too.

Rian gritted his teeth.

He had never been able to fully cut his toxic mother out of his life. She had an unexplainable influence over him. He didn’t know why that was because he was as sure of it as his own name that he despised her and wanted nothing more than to end all relations with her.

Perhaps he would finally succeed once he had his school up and running.

Yes, that would shut her up. It would put these nightmares to rest, and then he could finally move on.

Rian lay back in his bed, counting minutes and wishing for sleep to return. Frustrated by the voices that tormented him, he shucked the covers off and swung his long legs over the side, striding out to get something to drink .

As he came to the end of the hallway, his gait slowed, eyes drawn to the figure on the couch.

Aditi.

He almost groaned. He didn’t want to deal with her. Thankfully, her focus seemed to be on the show that was playing on TV.

He glanced at the flat screen, unable to hold back a disgusted frown before he turned away. DC? Ugh. Further proof that his decision not to befriend her was correct. Anyone with taste knew that Marvel was superior.

Shaking his head, he beelined for his kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of milk. His gaze swung around, searching through the cabinets for the spices he kept handy.

She coughed, and for some reason, he stilled. It took effort for him to continue ignoring her presence. Rian had not thought it would be this hard. He had firmly believed that he could go days without seeing or talking to her. The duration of her program at the hospital would come to an end eventually, and life would go back to normal. His apartment would be his again, and he wouldn’t feel so on edge in his own home.

Aditi had tried a few times to interact with him, but between his own need to maintain a distance, being busy with ensuring Ankit was okay, and keeping tabs on The Singapore Map, Rian had had his hands full, only coming home late at night to sleep and sometimes pick a change of clothes.

For nearly two weeks, this had been his life. Now that things were finally slowing down, he couldn’t ignore the obvious.

Aditi Krishnan was everywhere .

When he walked into his house, her sensible shoes were lined neatly next to his collection of sneakers. When he grabbed himself a glass from his kitchen, he’d inevitably see one of her silly mugs with nonsensical jokes sitting in the sink. Sometimes, when he returned home late at night, he’d see her huddled form wrapped like a caterpillar and sleeping on his couch, a confusing array of items littered on the centre table while the TV ran on low volume. By the time he left the next morning, the space looked pristine, which meant that any complaint about her penchant to doze off in the living room and have stacks of books and papers on his table suddenly became invalid.

Even otherwise, he doubted he could crib about Aditi to Nanamma. Rian had observed them more than once on the way out to work, and the manner in which they interacted would have fooled anyone into thinking that it was Rian who was the houseguest.

Aditi had endeared herself to Nanamma so thoroughly in his time away that his obvious desire to remain aloof from her had had his grandmother shooting him disapproving looks anytime they were in the same room.

Additionally, he had been surprised to find that nearly everyone in the vicinity of his apartment building had met and fallen in unconditional love with Dr. Aditi Krishnan. From his newspaper boy to the maid, the shopkeeper across the street, the kids in the locality, and even the security guards, everyone asked him about Aditi when they saw him, often giving him something or the other to hand over to her.

Rian would promptly leave the gift on his kitchen counter in a silent ritual of passing the parcel. He assumed she received it because it was usually gone by the time he returned. Despite being curious about these parcels, Rian stayed away from Aditi as he had promised Nanamma.

Which brought him here. Still ignoring her, still feeling awkward in his own house, and still not understanding why.

He shut the fourth cupboard he checked, grunting in annoyance. Where the hell was his favourite mortar and pestle?

Assuming he’d just missed seeing it, he went back to the cabinet he usually stored it in, pulling out random objects to check behind, to no avail .

Perplexed, he stood back, staring at the cupboards as though doing so would make it magically reappear.

“Looking for something?”

Rian’s head swung to the side, hiding his surprise when he realised that Aditi had entered the kitchen and was staring at the same shelves as him. How had he not heard her?

“You move quietly,” he commented, unable to stop himself.

Aditi broke out into a lopsided grin.

“Occupational hazard. Working in ICUs got me used to treading very quietly, trying to not disturb the patients.”

He didn’t acknowledge the answer, simply turning away from her to begin searching anew.

“Are you searching for something?” she asked again. “Maybe I could help.”

“Doubt it.”

“You don’t know that. Try me.”

“Doc, this is my kitchen. If I cannot find something here, it is unlikely that you will.”

“Let’s assume I will fail,” she easily agreed. “Would you care to tell me what it is I will be failing in searching for?”

Damn, she was tenacious. Rian blew out a quick breath, wishing for patience before he answered her.

“It's a marble pestle and mortar, about yea big,” he gestured, holding his curved hands a few inches apart.

A moment later, she brushed past him and bent down towards a lower shelf, pulling out the very thing he’d been searching for. She placed it on the counter near him, grabbing a small green jar from a drawer as well.

“I figured you’ll need the cardamom too,” she said, nodding towards the bottle.

Rian peered at her, confused how she had known that. His curiosity must have shown because almost immediately, she offered an explanation .

“Looks like you’re going to make a late night drink, so. . .”

“That was not where I usually store it,” he said, pointing at the base drawer she’d just closed. “How did you know where my mortar and pestle was?”

He could almost hear her think before she admitted sheepishly, “I kept it there.”

“I liked where it was kept before.”

Did he sound petulant? Yes. Did he care? No.

“But I couldn’t reach it,” she explained in a rush, her head bobbing with an almost equal fervour. “See, Nanamma was missing you one night and telling me all about how the two of you often share warm haldi doodh at night. And then, we started doing the same, making masala milk in the evenings together— which she's so good at — and we needed to crush some of the spices. It just made sense to store it in a spot where we wouldn’t need a ladder to get to it every time. You’re so tall, it probably didn’t occur to you that it isn’t easy access for people like Nanamma. Or me.”

She put one hand on her crown, measuring herself against him for emphasis. The edge of her palm hit his collarbone with a soft thump, just above the rounded neckline of his T-shirt.

Rian stared where her hand lay and then at her, their height difference somehow more pronounced by the fact that she was in her socks—a fuzzy atrocity with avocado prints—without the benefit of any heels or shoes.

“You’re taking over my kitchen and you’re blaming my height for it?” he asked, stepping back a little. God, when did he start sounding so uptight?

“Haven’t you heard? Guests are like gods in our country. We get to take over the places we visit,” she joked, her smile dimming when the stern lines on his face did not relax. She tapped one foot awkwardly in place, lips turned inwards. She chanced a single glance up at him, sighing when he still looked like he was holding back on giving her a piece of his mind. “Are you really that bothered about me moving a few things around?”

“Not the point,” he said, heading to the counter to keep himself busy. “You can’t move stuff without asking the owner of the house.”

“You weren’t here,” she reasoned, handing him the spice box he’d been wanting without him having asked for it. This only irritated him further. “And you weren’t even supposed to be here for a while longer.”

“Seriously?” he griped, swiping the box from her hands with no effort to mask his displeasure anymore. “You’re complaining that I came back too soon to my own house?”

Aditi’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words.”

“Stop saying twisted things then,” Rian shot back, turning his back to her. He pinched a few kernels of red peppercorn and began to pound it into a fine powder.

Rian could feel Aditi’s gaze boring a hole into him, but he didn’t acknowledge her. He heard her step away and assumed she would leave him alone. Instead, she walked around the island until she was standing across from him.

“All I meant to say,” she continued, evidently hell-bent on debating this further, “was that I would have put everything back in its proper spot eventually.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, still not looking at her. “But it was still inappropriate behaviour.”

“Was it really?” Aditi’s eyes narrowed, feeling quite like that barb was meant for a past transgression and not the one being presently discussed. “Or are you just trying to find a reason to dislike me and continue being mean?”

The unexpectedly frank question had the pestle slipping from his hand just as he hit the base of the mortar. He stopped, pushing it away and slapped his palms on the stone counter, facing her once more .

“Excuse me?” he bit out, feeling an uncomfortable heat climbing up the back of his neck. He had never been accused of being unfriendly, and though he had been exactly that, he had not expected to be confronted over it.

“You are nice to everyone. Except me.”

Aditi didn’t look away, meeting his gaze head on, daring him to contradict her.

“I haven’t said anything to you.”

“Exactly!” she snapped. “And when you do, it’s in that clipped tone with a face that looks like you’ve smelt something bad.”

“What?” he spat again, his own voice rising a few decibels.

“See? Exactly like this!” she said, pointing at him and making a scrunched face to presumably recreate his expression. It was not pretty.

“Okay. Listen,” she barrelled on without giving him a chance to interrupt, gathering her hair and furiously wrapping it in a bun on top of her head. “I understand that I said something the night we met and you didn’t like it. Maybe I misunderstood your relationship with those people, who I can’t even remember anymore! I was coming off the end of an extra-long work shift, doing a health check because there were no other doctors available during the storm. I was exhausted, barely thinking straight, and I said something. You corrected me, quite rudely, might I add. Can’t we just let it be?”

“You made a conjecture about my life after knowing me for barely two minutes and I was being rude?” Rian huffed, shaking his head in reproach before picking up his pestle again.

“I apologised then, and I’ll do it again if that makes it better. I am sorry.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be okay with it,” he muttered.

“No. It doesn’t,” she replied, her shoulders lowering in defeat. “But, haven’t you ever made a mistake?”

Rian stilled, but said nothing. He heard her release a sigh .

“I’ve moved on. It is up to you what you hold on to,” she said quietly before walking back into the living room.

He watched her retreat from him, a little stumped at how boldly she’d brought up an embarrassing moment from the past and stated her feelings on the matter.

Haven’t you ever made a mistake?

He didn’t know why he was reacting like this to Aditi, but the way she’d lost that little spark of life, her attitude dulling given his brusque behaviour, troubled him. She’d turned away as if she didn’t expect understanding or forgiveness, leaving him feeling like a complete asshole.

It is up to you what you hold on to.

Cut your losses.

Was she wrong? His conscience piped up this time, unwilling to remain quiet anymore.

She wasn’t so terrible, he finally admitted to himself, watching the milk come to a boil. It’s not as if she’d known he’d been emotionally volatile that evening. And she really had apologised, twice now.

He whisked some honey into the spiced milk and poured it through a sieve, his sights inevitably drawn once more to the woman on the couch who was staring outside the window instead of watching her TV show or reading the several books she had stacked on the centre table.

With a sigh, he picked up the mugs and strode into the living room, clearing his throat to grab her attention.

“I thought you might like some,” he gruffed, extending a mug out to her. He felt a twinge of guilt at the way she stared at him, wary of his sudden approach.

Her eyes flickered from the mug to his face and back. Her full lips parted, curving ever so slowly, as the stiffness in her receded. She reached for the cup, accepting it without a word. Eyes on the screen, she scooted towards one end of the sofa, making space for him. It was an unnecessary move given the massive size of the sectional, but as an invitation, it drove the point home.

He hesitated for a second before taking a seat, quietly leaning back against the cushions. For multiple minutes neither said anything, letting the dialogues filtering through the speakers fill the silence between them.

Aditi took a sip of the warm drink, her murmur of appreciation making him breathe easier.

“So, is this how you usually apologise for being mean? Gifts of food?”

“You just had to bring it up, didn’t you?” he grumbled. Unlike before, his tone was light, sheepish even.

She giggled, an inherently happy sound, and turned towards him. As he watched her talk, holding no ill will towards him despite him having given her no reason to be so friendly, Rian marvelled at her ability to let go of the uncomfortable moments. Just as she’d advised him.

As she asked him question after question, offering up her own answers without the reservations he’d come to expect in people he newly met, Rian realised that for all his planning on staying away from his temporary housemate, he had not accounted for one thing.

Her.