She didn't think it was possible but it actually happened... life went on. Normally.
Akash left to Canada to get his new post organized - and to find a home for their family that was about to get bigger. Javed had insisted that they'd stay in his house as it was empty anyways but Akash was adamant that it's time for them to have their own place.
Payal stayed behind to pack and get things in order in Delhi - but she was joining Akash in a week or sooner - depending on how quick she'd get her visa approved. Javed pulled some strings - visa wouldn't be a problem - and so Payal was busying everybody in the family wish constant shopping trips... it seemed like she was trying to buy the entire India so she wouldn't have to miss a thing in her new home. And the ladies of Raizada parivaar were all very much happy to help her with shopping duties.
In a meantime NK took an English exit and left almost unnoticed... "almost" - because whenever anybody asked of NK sudden departure, Khushi smiled this pleased mysterious smile and went on to sing some ridiculous song about "weather that is perfect for a wedding season". In respond to that Arnav only rolled his eyes and murmured that his wife is crazy... and Khushi smiled wider and sang louder.
The only thing that Anjali couldn't wrap her mind about was her relationship with Javed. Did they have it? A relationship? What was it?
It's been a week since that day on a terrace when they... kissed. And when she'd tried to push him away. At times it felt like she'd succeeded - Javed felt so... leveled... calm... distant. Was it him giving her some much needed space? Or did he actually change his mind about their couple? Because if there was one thing Anjali was sure of about Javed - that either way he would stay a gentleman. But with his polite and dignified attitude how was she supposed to know which way his heart went after that conversation?
Anjali was seriously considering asking him directly but today was not the day to do it. Today was the day when Javed's parents invited them both for a farewell dinner - the next day they both were leaving India.
Anjali dreaded this evening. Her own insecurities and mixed feeling aside, there was this big elephant in the room - her ex-husband sent Javed to the hospital... and that wasn't a good recommendation for a perspective bride... and based on their previous meetings Anjali was sure that disliked her even before...
Yes, that was some night ahead...
...
They sat on a second floor terrace of Rara Avis - one of the most exquisite French restaurants in Delhi. Their table was cleverly concealed by flower arrangement that gave them some privacy from the rest of the guests - and the restaurant was full! Anjali marveled how was Javed able to book a table on such a short notice and he'd explained that it wasn't his doing - his father took care of it. Apparently, knew the owner - hence, the special treatment.
One could say that evening started on the wrong foot... insisted that Anjali would call him by his name, but made a point of requesting to be called "Madame Genevieve"... and that wasn't a good sign, right?
Javed tried keeping up conversation and his father helped him with that masterfully, but Madame Genevieve mostly kept silent, watching Javed intensely and offering only short snarky remarks occasionally. It was hard for Anjali and she was grateful to Javed for shielding her from this negativity by being such a smooth-talker.
And then... this happen.
Madam Genevieve asked softly:
- Chérie, passe-moi le sel s'il vous plaît.
Anjali looked around trying to understand to whom this request has been addressed. She could've passed the salt too but she wasn't sure that Madame Genevieve would call her "chérie". But the response came from Javed who gave his mother a saltshaker and said very quiet:
- Il n'est pas poli de parler français quand personne il ne comprend ici, mais trois d'entre nous!
Javed didn't notice Anjali's surprised gaze because he was watching him mother intently, trying to compel her to listen to him. But why would he think that "there were only three people who understood French present"? She understood this language perfectly, she'd learned it years ago! Didn't he know? Has it never came up in conversation before?
France - or more specifically Paris - was a life-long dream for Anjali. City of love and fashion - her own personal perfect blend. Shyam kept promising to travel there but never did it. He never fulfilled any of his promises...
The thought of Shyam brought back bad memories and for some time Anjali was oblivious to anything around her engrossed in emotional darkness. When she snapped out of it the conversation at the table was already heated...
Javed was furious as he shouted to his mother:
- Comment osez-vous parler de ce genre pour elle?
She responded with hurt in her voice:
- Quoi, vous pensez que je ne connaissais pas cette femme a brisé votre cœur? Quel genre de mère que je suis?
Javed looked abashed:
- Qu'est-ce que vous a donné cette idée folle?
Madame Genevieve spitted out her accusations:
- J'ai vu la façon dont vous regardiez elle ce jour à Harvard ... Je me souviens comme vous étiez déprimé quand elle s'est mariée ... Et je sais que tu voulais rentrer en France avec moi, mais resté à Delhi à la place ... pour elle!
Anjali blinked and actually considered not opening her eyes again. She'd already known she'd broken Javed's heart before - but she didn't know his mother knew this too. Apparently, Anjali was the only one oblivious to his feelings...
Saleem looked so guilty through this exchange. But somehow Anjali thought that it wasn't because of her, it was because of him. If it weren't for his mistakes, the mother and son wouldn't grew so much apart as they apparently did. Javed - always so polite and dignified - wouldn't chasten his mother on the way she spoke to Anjali... and Madame Genevieve wouldn't blame her son for abandoning her in France alone when she needed him the most... and she thought Javed did it for the sake of Anjali. Well, it explained her hostility towards Anjali... and what was Anjali supposed to do now?
But Javed solved that question for her - he vowed solemnly:
- Mère, je vais dire ce qu'une seule fois, alors essayez de me comprendre! J'adore cette femme, je vais me battre pour cette femme et si je vais devoir vous battre pour elle - ainsi soit-il!
This sentence hit Anjali like a lightning and she sat there not able to understand how to move. He loved her... so much. He was willing to fight for her... even if it meant fighting his own mother. But... Anjali didn't feel worthy of such love... could she ever feel so strongly about him?
Madame Genevieve stood up and threw her napkin on the table:
- Très bien! Vous avez fait votre choix! Ce que Dieu maudit pays volé un autre homme que j'aime de moi!
Indeed, Javed has made his choice. But Saleem was even more struck with this comment than Anjali... because if Genevieve said that India "stole away one more man she loved" then maybe she'd still loved him?
...
Saleem made a quick polite exit and hurried to catch Genevieve. Javed sat silent deep in his thoughts. Then he stood up and helped Anjali to stand up too. Javed took both her hands in his in looked her in the eyes:
- Anjali, I'm sorry you had to witness it... it was very rude of us to speak the language you don't understand...
Anjali decided to play along with this misconception for a while:
- What did you talk about?
- Um... - Javed hesitated, - my mother is not pleased that I'd decided to follow my father's ancestry and stay in India instead of living in France.
Well, that was putting it mildly. Javed omitted the part where his mother was not pleased with the woman who broke her son's heart, i.e. Anjali. She nodded slowly trying to hide her pain - Javed hadn't had to fell guilty over her remorse for the fact that she'd caused him pain.
And it felt like this circle would never stop.
...
Anjali thought long and hard that night. Not even "thought" - more like "felt". She was searching through her heart, trying to understand and sort out her feelings for Javed... what was real, what was gratitude, what was guilt.
...
The first person Anjali spoke the next morning was her Nani. When Anjali searched for Javed to speak to him too she'd found him in the common room talking to somebody on the phone. He mouthed to her "sorry, important call" and Anjali nodded that she'd wait.
While waiting she went outside to the garden to enjoy morning sun... and the next thing she'd felt was dump cloth against her mouth and nose and familiar voice whispering to her ear:
- Missed me, Rani Sahiba?
And then there was nothing...
