She bit her lip and didn’t answer.
He shoved his phone into his jeans pocket and took a step closer.
‘Do you think just walking out of a marriage is a divorce? Doyou think hiding away for two years means we are divorced? Do you think pretending I don’t exist means we’re divorced? If that’s what you think then you are in for a big reality check. Because according to the law you are my wife and I am your husband,’ he said.
She looked down at his fingers. He still wore his wedding ring. He followed her gaze.
‘Yes, married. Very married. So, let’s start again. Hello Mrs Naran, we need to talk,’ he said coldly.
Neel had planned to have this conversation anywhere but on a sidewalk in the sleepiest town he’d ever been in. Rally was an hour away from Durban. As a child, he’d spent every December holiday with his maternal grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins in Durban, but Rally had never been on their map. He recalled visiting once when he was around ten. They were passing through en route to a more lively tourism destination north of Durban but stopped in Rally to sightsee. They soon discovered there wasn’t much to see. Or maybe he hadn’t really looked hard enough because he was just a kid, more excited about the water park at their intended destination. Rally was quiet then and it was just the same now. It was so quiet that his voice seemed amplified; that’s not what Neel wanted because he rarely raised his voice. He was always calm, collected… the voice of reason, the quiet yet smartest guy in the room. Maybe, back then, he should have screamed and shouted and demanded that she stay, but he didn’t. He just let her go without much of a fight. What did it matter now anyway?
He looked her up and down. To him, she hadn’t changed at all because he saw her without the couture clothing, the makeup and the scowl that her industry demanded. She was still asbeautiful as the day they’d made their pledges at the marriage registration office. They’d met at a gala dinner three months before and couldn’t get enough of each other. He was three years older than her so he should have been the wiser one and refused to go along with the secret marriage. But he wanted her.
For the first few weeks they were high on love and lust. The secrecy of their marriage added to the appeal. Neel was the only grandson of a logistics magnate, so it was expected that he would have a grand wedding and marry someone his family had at least met. But no one knew. They lived together and no one knew they were married, that he had a wife. The very thing that made the marriage appealing in the beginning started to tear them apart. He didn’t want secrecy anymore. He didn’t want his wife jetting off across the world for weeks on end with little communication. He didn’t want his wife to pretend she was single! He wanted a real marriage.
Eight months into the marriage, after another argument over her working in an industry where she was unhappy and exhausted, he told his family about the marriage. By doing that, he betrayed her trust. Although his family was disappointed, they supported him and wanted to meet her. But they couldn’t because Kaavi fled. She left her ring and the marriage certificate on the kitchen table and simply walked out. She changed her number and didn’t return the calls that he made to her agent.
Of course, it hurt like hell. His family, who could see him hurting, at first encouraged him to go after her. But after a while they encouraged him to pull himself out of his depression and move on. He spent more time at work and started training to take over from his grandfather. He had two business degrees and an MBA, which he was putting to good use. But she was always at the back of his mind. He remembered how he’d have to remove his wedding ring every morning before he headed to work. ‘Someone will see,’ she would say. But after she left,he wore the ring every day. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe to remember her?
When his grandfather’s health had begun to decline two months ago, he’d officially taken over as CEO. Afterwards, his sister, a lawyer at the company, had pulled him into her office and reminded him that he was heir to millions, possibly billions, as well as a company – and that he was married without a prenuptial agreement. Since she left, he’d never once searched for her on social media. He’d been tempted, very tempted, but he couldn’t do that to himself. However, on that day, with his sister looking over his shoulder, he’d searched for her and found her social media account, which surprised him. He’d expected to see her in photoshoots at exotic places or on a catwalk. But he found photos of her sitting on the bank of a lake, group pictures with ‘ordinary’ people, of sunsets and meals. Photos of her in a town called Rally.
Now he was there to get her to sign divorce papers. Yet, although he stood face to face with her, the documents remained in his bag in his hotel room.
She looked at her feet and then back at him.
‘Is it urgent?’ she asked.
His eyes widened in surprise.
She shook her head. ‘Fine. You might as well come up. We can’t really talk in the middle of the street.’
She didn’t wait for his response. She turned and went back into the apartment building. It was his cue to follow.
He looked around as they walked through the foyer and then into the lift. This building stood out in Rally. Other buildings were ‘homely’ and could even be called old-fashioned. But this one was modern, a symbol of opulence.
He looked at her out the corner of his eye as the lift ascended. He knew her too well. She was trying to appear aloof but he knew she was pretending. She twisted the strap on her brown leatherhandbag and gripped a bunch of keys so tightly that it would probably leave an indentation on her palm.
The lift stopped on the sixth floor. She walked out and he followed. No questions asked. She opened the apartment door and gestured for him to follow her in. He obeyed and then gently shut the door behind him.
He looked around. This was a man’s apartment. Dark colours, leather sofas and masculine interior design. She was living with a man. Did he know she was married? Did she love him?
‘Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?’
Her question surprised him. She was trying so hard to be aloof and cold but couldn’t hide her sweetness.
‘I’m good,’ he replied.
He casually walked past her, his shoulder barely brushing hers, but she jumped out of the way as if she was on a railway track with a speeding train headed for her. He didn’t even try to hide his grin. He wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t know the effect he had on her… even now after all this time.
He sat down on a leather armchair and she took a seat on the one opposite him. She bit her lip.
And then there was an awkward silence. Neel looked directly at her while she looked everywhere but at him.
Finally, she spoke. ‘You wanted to talk?’
He sat back. ‘What are we going to do about our marriage?’
Again, she didn’t respond. She just stared past him.
