Shadows of Kasauli Chapter 2

Vanya’s hand, which had been reaching the register, remained suspended in mid-air. The name Aashraya felt like a secret code they hadn't spoken in a decade. It was the name of the bungalow where they had carved their initials into a hidden corner of the porch when they were nineteen.

​"The archives are in the basement, Arjun. They aren't open to the public after four," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to play the professional librarian. She used his name, a mistake. It felt too intimate all of a sudden.

​Arjun stepped closer to the counter. He didn't look like the boy who had left for Mumbai with nothing but a camera and a dream. His jaw was set, and there was a weariness in his eyes that made him look older.

​"I’m not the 'public,' Vanya," he said softly, leaning in so only she could hear. "And you know better than anyone that I don't care much for rules."

​Vanya glanced nervously at the heavy clock on the wall. The other staff had already left. They were alone amongst the shadows of thousands of books. "You shouldn't have come back. There is nothing left for you here. The house is a ruin."

​"My grandfather left me a letter," Arjun countered, pulling a crumpled envelope from his jacket. "He said the truth about why our families stopped speaking is buried in the 1952 land records. Records that you oversee."

​He watched her carefully. He noticed the way she nervously twisted a gold band on her ring finger, the mark of her union with Sameer. It looked heavy on her delicate hand, and especially given to her by someone else and not him. 

​"Arjun, please," she whispered, her eyes darting to the door. "My husband... he’ll be expecting me. I have a dinner to host. I will have to leave now. Its late."

​"Since when did Vanya Sharma care about what people?" Arjun interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. He reached out, his fingers hovering just an inch above hers on the counter. He didn't touch her, but the heat radiating from him was enough to make her breath hitch. "You used to climb the library walls at midnight just to read poetry under the stars. Now you’re worried about a dinner schedule?"

​The sting of his words hit home. He was calling out the ghost of the girl she used to be, the one she had buried under layers of silk and social obligation.

​Before she could answer, her phone chimed again. A loud, demanding tone that cut through the romantic gloom of the library. It was a call from Sameer. The screen lit up with his name, flashing like a warning signal.

​Vanya looked at the phone, then at Arjun. The choice was a physical weight in her chest.

​"I have to go," she said, her voice brittle. She began to pack her bag. "Come back tomorrow. During official hours. Like any other citizen."

​Arjun straightened up, his face masking his disappointment with a cold, professional distance. "Tomorrow, then. But don't think a 'Citizen' is all I'm going to be, Vanya. I'm staying at the bungalow. If you want to see what a ruin really looks like, you know where to find me."

​He turned and walked toward the door, his boots echoing on the wooden floorboards. As he pushed the heavy doors open, the mountain mist swallowed him whole, leaving Vanya standing in the silence, her heart racing and her husband’s call still ringing, unanswered, in her hand.