‘I do, Mrs Archary.’
She nodded and looked away.
The hours dragged. When Kaavi got back from her walk, she sat next to Neel. Finally, when the doctors emerged, she didn’t move. She stood frozen, listening, not even blinking. Her uncle held her sobbing mother. Her aunt paced nearby, whispering into her phone.
Neel reached for Kaavi, but she turned and walked away without a word.
He found her in a small garden on the second floor. The sun had already risen. It was 5 am. She looked beautiful as the sunshine touched her long black hair.
‘I love you. Please don’t have a panic attack,’ he said quietly.
She smiled.
‘I know you love me.’
She turned her face towards the sun. She stood there for a few minutes just basking in the sunshine.
‘He wasn’t sorry, you know.’
‘No, I don’t,’ he replied honestly.
‘Before the surgery, he told me he was sorry. He only said it to make himself feel better.’
She swivelled to face Neel. ‘Remember that evening when we met at the dinner gala, I first saw you at the bar. I walked by and when you looked up at me, I knew we were going to end up in a hotel room by the end of the night. I told the model who accompanied me to the gala that it would be a ‘one and done’, but then I heard you on the phone with your mother the next morning. Do you know I think I fell in love with you in that moment? You spoke to her with respect and love. I wanted someone, other than my uncle, grandfather and Sen, to talk to me like that. Because for most of my life, I was …’ She broke off.
She took a deep breath.
‘Let’s go back in,’ she said.
‘Kaavi.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m sorry about your dad.’
She nodded and walked back into the hospital.
Her father was dead. Kaavi wasn’t sure if coming back to Neel’s house was the right call or even a smart one. Not after the last couple of hours. She couldn’t make sense of how she felt. Anyone else would be drowning in grief, anger, heartbreak or sorrow after their father had died. But not her. She felt nothing.
Neel parked in the garage and they stepped out. Inside, she slipped off her shoes beside his in the entrance. She glanced around.
God, she loved this house. She thought of the night he proposed, how he’d promised this place would always be there. It was a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house, fitted with all the modern comforts. Clearly the work of an interior decorator, like most homes in Sandton. But what made it feel like a home were the small, personal touches – like the takeaway pamphlets scattered on the counter, the framed photos of Neel and his family lining the hallway, and the faint smell of his bodywash that lingered.
‘You can use this bedroom,’ Neel said, leading her to the room opposite the master bedroom.
She entered after him. Thick, heavy bottle-green curtains hung from the windows, matching the comforter stretched across the king-size bed.
‘This bedroom was used only once, a couple of months ago when my cousin got married. Relatives from Durban stayedover. I had a week of noisy children and interfering aunts,’ he said without any hint of irritation in his voice. Kaavi knew Neel loved his family unconditionally and while many would avoid family gatherings, he was always the first to arrive and last to leave – at least that’s what he’d told her.
‘So, does everyone in your family know you’re married?’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Your extended family,’ she said.
‘Yeah, they do.’
‘And what do they say?’
