Aashiqui - A Love Story.

.III.

2019, UK.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" The waitress sweetly questioned, which annoyed Mishti.
"A pinch of poison in it please." She responded that didn't seem to register in the old woman's head. The waitress just choked out a laugh and moved ahead to bring the required. Who would tell her that Mishti really meant what she said?

"Aren't you a walking, talking sunshine?" Abir's question brought another grumble from her lips.
"Scratch the walking part." She responded boringly.
"Oh! Sorry. No cripple jokes." He laughed.
"And no adopted kid jokes." Mishti shrugged.
"Well, if you want to loiter around for another hour or more, I don't care. But I have important issues to handle." She continued.

"Wait for a minute woman. Doesn't anything make you curious?" He asked.
"I don't have time for these stupid adventures." Mishti rolled away the answer like it was no big deal. But within her confined thoughts, she was dying to get to know why they were waiting in a third grade, cheap and unhygienic motel.
"What else do you do? You're in the chair for almost 16 hours. And there's nowhere to go near the castle." His reply made her chuckle out loud.

"You exactly sound like my mom. Were you connected in your previous lives or something?" Abir shook his head. His last attempt to provoke her went in vain. There was nothing in this world, that could bring out any sort of emotion apart from sarcasm and annoyance from this woman. He knew Mishti had tightened up in the last year, but he didn't know the extent of the damages.

"Are you going to talk or shall I imagine that too?" Taking a sip of the tea, Mishti eyed him.
"We, in the sense you, are here to take an initiative. Making amends." Abir mentioned.
"Pardon?" The most 'British' reaction left her mouth.
"You're going to forgive and apologise." He remarked.
"Oh? And who said I would?" Mishti asked smiling.

"Me." Abir's retort frustrated her more.
"If you wanted to be a therapist, go find some other deranged human. Can't afford myself for the job of your trial specimen in talking to people." Abir sighed again hearing her sarcasm.
"At least give it a try?" He pleaded.
"So that you can take entertainment? Abir, cut the bullshit." She scoffed.
"Its not about me dumbass." He shrieked.

"Why are you suddenly concerned about my personal fuckups? Weren't you the one who insisted on being the bathroom cleaner? I fired the old one trusting you." Mishti narrowed her eyes.
"It's not just about being my assistant, is it?" The question made Abir squirm in his seat.
"Talk damn it! Have you lost your tongue with your senses?" She banged a hand on the table and the tea spilled mercilessly on the floor.

"Your mother just wanted you to meet her." The words left his mouth before he could get a grip on himself. Abir covered his face. One single work! It was one simple damn work. To keep his mouth shut. But he couldn't complete his assignment, ofcourse because of his talkative nature. God he regretted taking up the job.

"Hello? We're going home Adam." The phone call ended as soon as he lifted his eyes abruptly to meet her blazing ones.
"Save it." She raised a hand before he could explain himself. Why was this lady so tough!
"She was my cousin. And if she wants to talk to me, she can do it herself, since she's equipped with a pair of god damn legs." The cold iciness had returned to her tone.

"I'll talk to my mother. You're fired." The simple sentence made Abir hold his hands on his temple and groan helplessly.

He had to safeguard this position.

"I thought we were over this mother! I'm not meeting that bionic mocking machine again. Ask your sister's daughter to take a big ass U turn." Mishti yelled, reaching the highest decibel.
"All I wanted for you, was to find a closure." Her mother answered honestly.
"And you assumed that I wanted it? First off, who gave you the right to interfere in my god damn life?" She was now facing her mother completely.

"Mishti, listen to me calmly." Her mother pleaded.
"Yes mother. Go on. Justify yourself like you always do. What else are you capable of? From the time you divorced Dad, you're putting up the same act." Mishti's mother closed her eyes tightly, receiving all the sharp words that pained her deeply.
"My cousin! The great superstar of the Hollywood! Oscar awardee and what not!" Mishti mocked as she moved her wheelchair towards the small table, to grab a glass of water.

At the same time, Abir's hands appeared magically to aid her, which spiked the irritation of the woman.
"I remember you don't have hearing problem." She reprimanded.
"What?" Abir asked, unknowingly.
"I concurred that I fired you. You don't have to meddle in our lives anymore." She snatched the glass from his hand.
"I signed the agreement with your mother. Go argue with the wall." His answer made her chuckle.

"Brave of you to think that you'd be sustained after the stunt you pulled behind my back." She snickered.
"Try me." Abir scoffed arrogantly. He didn't wanted their conversation to go any far so he stepped away from her.
"And for once woman, use your other working organs and try to understand what the person infront of you is trying to express. It's not that hard. Not more than walking with those dead legs and brain." He exited.

Mishti was mute for a long time and didn't realise when her mother had left her alone.

Present, 2024.

"Can you repeat?" Abir asks.
"Jiya Maheshwari." Jiya replies, as her brows furrow in confusion.
"Oh my god." Abir whispers and looks around.
"Are you alright sir?" Jiya questions carefully, not to startle him.
"Um, yeah. I knew your grandfather, infact. We, I mean, my mother and him were business partners." He immediately reverts, not to make things awkward.

"Oh! I actually didn't grow up with my maternal family. I stayed with my dad, who was a British by blood, after my mother left him." She explains as Abir notices a hint of sadness in her eyes.
"I'm sorry." He reprimands.
"It's okay sir. I've moved on from that stage. Now I've got my own problems so I can't focus much on them." Jiya smiles. Of course she has a responsibility as being the youngest intern in her college, and already conducting interviews of renowned personalities, for her project. So she couldn't fret over other issues too much, though it was about her biological parents.
"Your parents are still in touch?" Abir questions, out of curiosity.

But he instantly regrets it.

"My mom passed away. Just a year back." As soon as those words leave Jiya's mouth, Abir's eyes widen in shock.

Mishti's cousin had died.

To be continued