APRICITY [Completed] - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

"Mission Win Surbhi accomplished. Mission Win Surbhi's Family on," I announce as we sit in the car and drive to her hometown.
"You're awful at this," she huffs.
I wink.
"Just wait and watch."
With the huge mansion up for sale, the Khuranas are living in their old house. The family heirloom is in the less developed area of the city. The drive is not long, yet rough.
I gave the driver an off because I didn't want any more audience than what I am bound to get in the house. The streets are rocky and I regret bringing my BMW rather than hiring a cab.
"Take a left," Surbhi tells the way.
I swivel the wheel and narrowly miss a cow.
Amazing start of the day.
"Do they know we are coming?" I ask.
"Would you want them to?"
"No."
"They do."
Perfect.
"Right there," Surbhi points at a brown building. The house is comparatively larger than the buildings surrounding it and there's no mistaking the Khurana nameplate.
"Alright," I park the car and take a deep breath.
What if I'm not able to convince them?
Shh Vihaan. Positive thoughts.
A sound comes from my right and I tilt my head to find Surbhi placing a palm on her mouth, suppressing laughter.
"You're enjoying this," I raise a brow.
"Am I not supposed to? My almighty husband- scared of seeking blessing from her wife's family?" She says amused.
I let out an indecisive sound.
"Grunt all you want Mr. Singhania, but now it's my turn to see you fret," she says.
I move to grab her but she leaps out the door laughing like a kid. I shake my head at her childish nature and find myself laughing too.
On the front door, Surbhi stands hugging her mom tightly. When they break the hug, I approach aunty with a tight smile and touch her feet. She briefly places a palm on my head and invites us inside.
Surbhi meets all her relatives happily and I receive disapproving stares. Before lunch, I pull her aside.
"Should we-umm-give everyone the gifts we brought with us?"
"Yeah," she says noncommittally, looking for someone over my shoulder.
"Surbhi-"
"I gotta go," she tells me and runs to Gaurav who just came home from college.
My palms are clammy and I'm not sure I'm doing a great job here. I wished she would stay by my side but looking at her happy and cheerful, I can't ask this of her.
This is my battle. I'll win it for myself.
"This is delicious," I compliment, taking another bite of pav bhaji.
"I didn't know you liked pav bhaji so much," Surbhi says, pleased with me relishing the dish.
"I don't remember the last time I ate pav bhaji."
"What?" She asks in disbelief and a few others gawk at me too. "How could you have not eaten pav bhaji every once in a while?"
This is the opening I wanted. If I'm going to convince these people to let their daughter spend the rest of her life with me, then I'll have to peel my layers and show them the real me.
"Mom used to make it. Later, I asked Rekha aunty to cook it. She didn't turn out to be as talented. Restaurant food tastes artificial. I did not want to ruin my favourite food for myself so I just stopped eating it altogether."
"In that case, I'll be happy to make it for you every week," Surbhi offers from her position on the table opposite me.
"That's generous, but totally unnecessary."
"How so?"
"You're my wife, not my maid."
She smiles warmly and this time, instead of breaking my heart, her kindness heals something inside me that I didn't know needed repairing.
"Exactly," she says.
I am proud of her. A woman who burnt her hand while making a sandwich is offering to make pav bhaji. I have no doubt that she'll ask her mom for the recipe right after lunch.
"Surbhi, what's something you like that his chef cooks?" Her aunt asks from my side.
My hand stops and my eyes meet Surbhi's. I knew they would try to attack me but I didn't think it would be this hard.
"How can I like someone else's cooking when mom cooks so well," she replies, deflecting.
"Is it? Or do you not know altogether how his chef cooks because you've never eaten his food?"
I grip the spoon tightly.
"Will you ask dad to pay for the chef to cook for Surbhi?" Her uncle asks from across the table.
"My wife will get whatever she wants at our house," I reply, accentuating the word 'our'.
"That's what your mother said all those years ago," he remarks.
My body buzzes with tension at the mention of my mother. Her name does not deserve to be tainted by my actions.
My eyes meet Surbhi's again. She shakes her head and I will myself to calm down. I have to understand where they are coming from. They care for Surbhi. I hurt her. I deserve whatever they throw at me.
And it hit me that every single person present on this table knew my mom. They loved her, if Rekha aunty's words are anything to go by. And they regret her death as much as I regret my actions.
"You knew my mom," I say and he replies in affirmation although it wasn't a question.
"She was not supposed to be at the warehouse that day," Surbhi's mother speaks for the first time.
"I know," I say softly.
With Gaurav's help, who only agreed because Surbhi threatened him, I brought the bags of gifts inside.
A saree for Surbhi's mom which she accepted without a word.
Another saree for Surbhi's aunt to which she said, "the fabric is not good and the print is awful" though this one was the most expensive in the store.
A kurta pajama set for Anmol Khurana who did not show up so I handed it over to Surbhi's mom.
A watch for her uncle who refused to accept it so Surbhi went to his room and secretly placed it in his wardrobe.
A laptop for Gaurav which he declined and did not even touch.
And some miscellaneous items for her cousin sisters.
"That didn't go very well," I mumbled to myself.
Surbhi is flying a kite on the terrace so I sit there watching her. She looks so happy, totally in her element. I hope I'll be able to keep this smile alive. Because if I fail, then it will kill me.
Anmol Khurana comes and sits by my side. For a few minutes he does not say anything.
Then, "I did not aim for her."
"I know." He's talking about mom.
"You don't seriously think I'll believe your bullshit that you're some kind of saint on the path to redemption?" He says on the verge of losing his temper.
"I was hoping you would."
"Surbhi loves you," he whispers.
"Why do you say that?"
"It's all over her face."
"I love her too," I admit.
"I know."
My eyes leave Surbhi and turn to Anmol Khurana. The question lingers in my eyes.
"It's all over your face too," he explains. "Vihaan."
"I'm listening."
"I'll do anything. Don't punish Surbhi because of me. I'm begging you."
I take a few minutes to let his words sink. The man I spent my entire life hating is begging me. Now don't get me wrong, grown men have begged me thousands of times, sometimes on their knees as well.
But it's different coming from this man. This strong, proud man who has never begged anyone for anything in his entire life.
"I would rather die than hurt her." He does not need to hear anything else.
We sat silently for a long time. A lot of unsaid words hang around us, waiting to be woven into sentences and spoken aloud. But not today. Today is about me and Surbhi.
"Convince Muskaan. Nobody will go against her," he says and leaves.
Surbhi's mom, who hasn't spoken a word to me since I arrived.