Chapter 11: A Graze from a Broken Bush

"HOW. DARE. YOU. TOUCH. HER!"

Vivaan punctuated each word with a heavy blow as the man stumbled back howling in pain. Stepping forward he pushed the flailing man back to the wall to land a few more, some in his gut, some on that impudent face. He liked this. He was itching for a good fight for so long!

Darsh bent forward clutching his tummy, then raised an arm to block the next blow. Although well-built and much stronger than his attacker, he had been caught by surprise. And then he was alone, while his attacker had a backup. A man was currently standing next to Aditi, holding her firmly in place, with one hand wrapped around her arm. Darsh gritted his teeth as she struggled to break free. "Let her go!" he thundered, blocking the next blow, but the man only tightened his grip.

"How dare you!" Vivaan continued angrily while still hitting haphazardly. His courage was bolstered by the fact that his victim was merely blocking his blows and showed no intention of retaliating in kind.

"Vivaan, stop! What are you doing? Leave him alone!" Aditi screamed in horror, but her pleas only served to aggravate him further. "Stop hitting him! He hasn't done anything."

"How dare he touch you, Aditi! How dare he lay his filthy hands on you! He needs to be taught a lesson!" Vivaan snarled and raised an arm to land another blow, but this time someone caught it from behind.

"Enough, Vivaan!" Mohit's calm voice sounded next to him. "Leave the man. You have already drawn enough blood."

Vivaan stepped back panting to take a look at his handiwork. There was a cut on that chiseled jawline. Thick disheveled hair tumbled forward on the high forehead hiding a concussion on the handsome face. Vivaan hated it almost instantly. Even after such a beating, the man looked only mildly perturbed. He should have done a better job. A broken nose and a black eye would have suited the situation much better.

Darsh straightened himself to his full height to take a good look at his attacker. Vivaan Raisingh, grandson of Dalpat Raisingh, another man of reckoning in these parts; his brain instantly regurgitated the details from the folder he'd committed to his memory long back. This was the man she'd mumbled about last night. This was the man who was her friend since childhood.

Not just any friend, his shrewd brain told him as he observed him with narrowed eyes. Tall and willowy with a carelessly handsome face, Vivaan Raisingh reeked of excess money. The likes of him took everything for granted, wealth and women being the least of it. And the way he was charged up, she was definitely high up on the list. A childhood sweetheart? A lover...a fiancée? Who was she to him? With each possibility, his fists curled tighter, and his face grew harder.

"I would be careful if I were you, Mr. Raisingh." His voice came dangerously low. "I wouldn't want to risk those delicate features." Taking a menacing step forward he grabbed his collar and pulled him up when he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

"Please...don't harm him." A small voice pleaded from his side. Aditi had finally made her way past Mohit and was now standing next to him with tired eyes. She looked worn, he suddenly realized she hadn't eaten anything after his spiked laddu. His fingers instantly loosened, and Vivaan tumbled backward clutching his neck in relief.

"Who is he?" Vivaan snarled, pulling her back. "What is he doing here Aditi?"

Aditi chewed her lips. Who he was didn't matter to her, not anymore. It was better he stayed a stranger. But she couldn't give that answer to Vivaan. She hadn't expected him to accompany Mohit here when she'd called yesterday. And now that he was here, having seen what he had, he obviously needed answers. "He...I...," she stuttered helplessly and saw Vivaan's eyes narrow. "He's a fr..."

"I am just a tourist," Darsh assured with mock politeness. "I helped Aditi two days ago when her horse bolted on the way to Badari. So she very kindly offered to be my guide and show me around."

Two days...translated to two nights as of this morning. Vivaan visibly blanched, having worked out the simple calculation. Darsh smirked with satisfaction. Possessiveness was a weakness of his kind, Darsh knew it from experience. To see someone encroach on one's territory, to touch something they owned was an affront beyond imagination. Unfortunately for Vivaan, he hadn't marked his territory yet. There was no ring on her finger and her title was still unchanged. The only thing that remained to confirm was if she returned his feelings. Darsh threw a searching glance at Aditi, but all he could see was a strained expression.

"Di won't be your guide anymore," Mohit stepped forward to announce calmly. "Good thing she called me up last evening. I was able to arrange another guide for you. He is waiting outside."

It was now Vivaan's turn to smirk as Darsh's face fell. She'd called home last evening. How? Probably that tourist family at the sunset point had a satphone. She'd used it to call her brother to get a new guide. And here he was, waiting to catch her red-handed, thinking she was interested in him. Well, at least that doubt was cleared. What more proof did he need? His anger shot through the roof as he gave her a withering glare. But she was blissfully oblivious, having already turned to collect her stuff.

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"Thanks, Mohit," she tottered around collecting her backpack and medical kit. "Good you found a guide, I couldn't find anyone in Badari." Gathering her stuff, she came back to stand next to her brother, then turned to look at him. Her eyes flickered to his cut, then to the concussion on his forehead. Sighing slightly, she opened her kit and handed him a bandage and some cream. "I am out of painkillers, but you can get them when you are next in Palampur. Thanks for all your help again. I hope you have a pleasant rest of the holiday."

They were about to exit when Darsh decided to deal with the parting shot. To hell with propriety, to hell with decency. It wasn't so easy to get rid of him, he wasn't going to let her off so easily. "You are forgetting your breakfast, Aditi. You need to eat, or that wound won't heal properly."

She whirled around in panic.

"Wound? What wound?" Mohit turned back in an instant with a worried look. "Di, are you hurt?"

"It's nothing...just a graze from a broken bush." she tried to gloss over but Mohit was already giving her an appraising look.

"She's got a wound on her left thigh," Darsh supplied helpfully, his face a picture of genuine concern. "It looked quite badly last night; the sutures have come off. Maybe you should treat it first, Aditi, before riding back home. You couldn't even stand up straight this morning."

There was silence as both the men digested this information, the implication hitting them hard. The brother's eyes flickered between them, then lowered in shame. Her so-called friend looked positively deranged. Aditi visibly trembled, looking like a deer caught in a vicious trap. He felt ashamed for throwing her under the bus. But it seemed right at the moment, just to see the expression on Vivaan Raisingh's arrogant face. And then there was no harm putting their relationship through a little test, if they were in a relationship, he thought drily.

Stretching his arms he gave a lazy yawn, then sauntered out in the glorious morning sun. His job here was nearly done. He had gotten her version of the story and verified it as well. The only thing now remained was to check if his brother was actually responsible. That would prove a tricky task, but he was fairly certain he could achieve it easily.

*****

Aditi stood under the warm shower as water ran down her pale skin. It was nearly past noon; they had arrived home some time ago. It was an uneventful journey; both Mohit and Vivaan had stayed quiet, each probably wishing the other man wasn't there so each could get his answers. But thankfully for her, their silence allowed her to rush home quickly avoiding any uncomfortable queries.

Not for long though, she sighed turning off the shower. Questions, there will be. And answers, she must prepare, just like any other exam. The details of the night still eluded her, staying somewhere in her subconscious, probably waiting to spring on her at the right time. The stranger had done his best to unearth them, but the memory had refused to surface. She was thankful for it. It was better that way. She had to live her life after all. And there was only so much a person could take.

Stepping out of the bath, she pulled her towel to pat herself dry. The floor-length Egyptian mirror on the wall opposite reflected her naked body from head to toe. She knew it was a glorious sight, steaming off the edges, gleaming with an unearthly glow. Once she had admired it, was vain enough to take pride in her reflection. Now she knew better. It was but a lie. A mere mirage of perfection.

Her eyes stayed off resolutely as she rubbed her skin till it felt raw. The rough towel grazed her thigh reminding her of another unpleasant task. Wrapping herself in her bathrobe, she sat on the floor with her medical kit. She had to finish it off quickly and quietly, behind closed doors. Just like that night. Just like every other time she had stitched that wound shut.

Bracing herself she set about the task. Her fingers worked meticulously, in precise motions, practice made them perfect. In and out, the thread went, joining the frayed skin back, leaving an angry red scar, yet together, whole again. Aditi smiled in relief. This was so easy, she could do it again. Again and again, forever.

***** *****

 

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