Page 35 of Mrs. Pandey
Even when I tried.
Even now. One day I would tell her how much I love her.
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Chapter 17
IRA
I agreed to marry that doctor. I even had a date scheduled with him. I was back in two-months leave after serving for over a year straight. I was still posted in Barmer, and Prashant was still my commanding officer. Aryan had been transferred to Arunachal Pradesh, happily settled with his wife, Avni Rathore, who had just given birth to a baby girl.
That hit me square in the chest.
Aryan, who was supposed to be my husband, had a daughter with another woman. And I was still single and was in so much pain. I decided to give this doctor a chance, especially after Prashant rejected my proposal last year.
When I called my mother and told her I was finally ready to marry him, she arranged the perfect day for us to meet. I had kept postponing it for months. I didn’t take leave last year, so I kept pushing the date further. But now, the time had come. I couldn’t make any more excuses. I had to meet this young, smart doctor.
I sat at my favorite restaurant, waiting for him while scrolling through my phone. I checked my WhatsApp as I got several texts from colleagues. None from Prashant. Not like he ever did. He had become more distant, more arrogant since his promotion. I was nothing in his eyes. He had rejected me so cruelly. Since then, we barely spoke and when we did, it was strictly professional.
I hated him like the sun hated the night.
“Ira Solanki…?” A masculine voice called from behind me. I turned slightly and saw a handsome man in spectacles. He wasn’t as muscular or tall as Prashant, but he looked decent in a grey t-shirt and blue jeans. His hair was neatly combed, and his beard was well-trimmed, giving him a clean, confident look.
“Yes,” I managed a smile and stood to greet him. “Kabir Rajput?”
“You don’t look like an army officer. I thought you were a model that’s why I got confused. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined, Ira.”
He squeezed my hand gently, as if he didn’t want to let go.
“You don’t look like a doctor either, Doc,” I replied, nodding for him to take a seat. “But here you are with your charming smile.”
I sat across from him, keeping my smile on, no matter how difficult it was to stretch my lips into something that looked genuinely happy. But I wasn’t.
After a few pleasantries, we placed our order. Kabir chose something light: salad and lemonade while I ordered my usual: grilled chicken and coffee. Holding my coffee cup helped me hide the hurricane brewing inside. He spoke about his work, hospital shifts, funny patient stories but I could barely register half of it. I nodded politely, drank my coffee, and stared at his mouth, pretending to listen.
I tried to focus on this new beginning. I really did.
But every time Kabir smiled, I saw another smile flash through my mind, Prashant’s crooked one, the one he gave me when I beat him in shooting practice. When Kabir complimented me again, I remembered Prashant saying, “You’re more dangerous with your eyes than with a rifle, Warrior.”
I shouldn’t be thinking about Prashant. He had made it clear that he didn’t want me. And Aryan had moved on. He had a family now. Everyone was moving so I would too. I would play my part. I would make my parents happy. This marriage wasn’t about love. It was about responsibility.
I tightened my grip around the coffee cup.
Kabir leaned in slightly. “Ira, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just… a long week. Army work.” I forced another smile. God, he couldn’t possibly guess how uncomfortable I was feeling or how uncomfortable I might be making him feel.
He nodded like he understood, like he had seen people wear brave faces before. “You don’t have to pretend with me. We can just talk about anything. Or nothing.”
The softness in his voice caught me off guard. There was no pressure, no judgment, not even about my parents arranging this marriage. Just gentle reassurance.
And for the first time in months, I breathed calmly. At least I was getting a husband who didn’t wear a double face.
I leaned back and looked at him properly. He was kind, easy to talk to, and patient. He didn’t carry the scars of his past. He didn’t know about my reckless heart, the mistakes I’d made, orhow I still sometimes dreamed of the scent of Prashant on my uniform.
Maybe that was a gift. Kabir didn’t come with baggage. He was new, clean and fresh. He hadn’t loved me yet, but he hadn’t hurt me either.
We laughed once. Then again.
