Chapter 3 Veera

Chapter 3 Veera

BOBBI: Hello, from sunny California! I wish we did more girl trips when we were single. Is that lame to say?

KAREENA: Not lame. I feel the same way. When can we all get together for brunch? Veera, when are you coming back? We miss you!

VEERA: I'll be back by Monday! Miss you, too. A lot has happened.

VEERA: Also, I think it is my duty to remind you that we used to make fun of people who were attached to their partners the way

you two are right now.

VEERA: Consider this my "you both are being ridiculous cut it out" message.

BOBBI: That's fair.

KAREENA: You know what? We deserve that.

"I know that it doesn't feel right," Veera said in Hindi. Her voice was as soothing and gentle as she could make it. "But that's only because men have told you not to trust your instinct."

The woman in the police uniform sat across from her at the greenish beige metal desk. Her fingers trembled as she touched

the files in front of her, shifting them from left to right, then back again. She looked so distraught that Veera's heart

went out to her. But it was important to understand financial independence because financial abuse was such a common problem

in their community both in India and in the diaspora.

"I make more than he does, you know," the officer said in English.

"That's because you're a strong, self-sufficient woman," Veera replied. "I know that I'm the American Desi coming here and

talking about money in a way that is so different from what you're used to, but that doesn't change the truth: you have the

right to control your money."

"You said that yesterday, too," the woman replied. "Right after I questioned you about the accident."

Veera nodded. "That's because it's true."

Officer Fernandez had been so kind when verifying their story and citizenship, so Veera tried to pay her back the only way

she knew how: by giving her advice about money.

She took a notepad that sat the edge of the woman's desk and retrieved a pen from the cupholder before she clicked the release

button for the pen tip.

"I'm going to give you some resources," Veera said, and she began to scribble the names of YouTubers, books, and classes that helped women understand economics and savings from a beginner's level. "When you take your one-hour lunch, watch one of the videos, or read one of the books on your phone. You don't have to tell anyone you're doing it if you don't feel safe. Then, think about opening a bank account where you put some money away so you're not giving your whole paycheck to your husband."

Officer Fernandez gaped at Veera, her cheeks turning an ashy color. "You want me to hide money from my husband?"

"If he doesn't understand how important it is for you to have control over your finances, then yes," Veera said firmly. "You

think he's hiding money from you, right?"

"Well, yes—"

"I normally recommend open communication about money," Veera replied. "But if you think that he'll react badly, and you don't

feel safe, then you have to take precautions to help yourself. Think of it this way: our mothers used to tuck gold away in

small silk pouches underneath stacks of saris for emergencies, right? Same concept."

Officer Fernandez cocked her head. "I don't know what could happen that—"

"I don't mean to scare you, but what if your husband is in an accident? You don't want to move in with your parents again,

right?"

Officer Fernandez balked, her eyes bulging. She shook her head so hard that her beret almost fell off.

"That's what I thought," Veera said. She tore off the top sheet of the pad and held it out for Officer Fernandez. "Put this

in your desk. No one has to know."

Officer Fernandez wobbled her head side to side, the signature yes head shake that Veera had seen members of her community

do since she was a baby. Then the woman folded the paper in half and tucked it in her top drawer. "Thank you, Veera-ji," she

said in her accented English.

"Mention not," Veera replied, speaking in the same accent to make the officer smile. "I appreciate how nice you've been to me and my sister."

"And now it's time for you to go," a deep, familiar voice said from behind her.

Even after all this time, Veera could identify that voice as quickly as she could identify her twin's. She sat up, her spine

ramrod straight. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she had to bite her lower lip to stop from shivering.

Good god, the precinct was a hot and humid eighty degrees and here she was shivering.

She hadn't heard that voice in so long, but it still had the same effect on her as the first time she heard it. It was deep,

the tone crystal clear, and vibrating with confidence.

Officer Fernandez stood, the legs of her heavier metal chair scraping across the tile. "Mr. Datta. We received your call.

We have finished speaking with both Veera Mathur and her sister. I believe Sana Mathur has already left."

"Thank you. Veera?"

Veera braced herself to see Deepak for the first time in almost a year.

Like that did any good.

She slowly turned around, and when their eyes met, she was breathless all over again. Just like the moment she'd first seen

him in her best friend's foyer.

He looked tired in his wrinkled suit that had seen better days. His towering height and lean build were the same, along with

his penetrating stare that focused on her like she was the only person in the room. His hair was slightly disheveled, and

his mouth was set in a thin line. A soft, gentle scruff had formed on his chiseled jaw.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out. It was the only question that came to mind. For months now she'd imagined how they'd cross paths again. She'd left New Jersey with her chin up, tears in her eyes, as a lovesick puppy who had been ignored for too long. She planned on returning as the cool, sophisticated businesswoman with a global client base who just completed a trip around the world. Unlike the woman he used to know, Veera would wear ruby red lipstick, drink fancy wine that didn't come in a box or a can, and act aloof and standoffish.

Reality was a cruel bitch. Instead of the perfectly poised, confident Veera persona she'd crafted in her mind, here she was,

standing in a police precinct in Goa with frizzy hair at her temples and damp palms.

In fact, she was pretty sure that every gland in her body was sweating.

"I stopped at the hotel first, but Sana told me that you were at the police station," Deepak replied. He rolled his shoulders,

the only sign of discomfort from the heat. "So here I am."

"We really could've managed," she said.

"Except you asked for my help."

Right, she thought. And if anyone found out that she was in a yacht-wreck, and there was bad publicity for the Mathur family,

it could potentially impact Illyria Media Group. Her parents were on the board, after all, and Deepak was Chief Operating

Officer. He was next in line for CEO once his father retired. Rumor had it that the announcement was going to come any day

now.

"I'm so sorry to drag you into this," Veera said.

He motioned to her crisp linen pants and tank top. Her hair she'd tied in two French braids. Her toes and nails were painted a hot pink and they peeked out from her brown leather sandals she'd picked up in Italy. "You look good, Vee. Relaxed. Not at all like you've been in a yacht-wreck."

"I prefer the term shipwreck."

One thick black eyebrow winged up in surprise.

"What is it?" Veera asked.

He didn't take his eyes off her as he shook his head in one slow, easy movement. "Never mind," he said. "Are you ready to

go?"

Veera turned to Officer Fernandez who was watching their interplay. "Will you call me if you need any help?"

The officer wobbled her head side to side in a yes gesture.

"Great. Thank you!" Going on instinct, she held her arms out and hugged the other woman. "Don't forget those resources," Veera

whispered in her ear. Then with one last wave, she squared her shoulders and faced Deepak.

"Okay, now I'm ready," she said when she stood a foot away from him. She could see the depth of the tired lines around his

mouth now, the soft smudges under his eyes, and hated that she'd worried him enough to convince him to fly halfway across

the world to see her in person. He was probably busy planning a wedding and running their fathers' company.

She owed him big-time.

When Deepak just stared at her, his hands tucked in his pockets, his watchful gaze tracing the outline of her hair, her sweaty

forehead, and her heated skin, Veera shifted side to side. She needed to get back to the hotel, to her room so she could process

seeing him again, so all the sadness that she'd ruthlessly tied inside of her heart didn't burst free.

Except Deepak didn't move. His assessment of her was hard to read, and she wondered if it was because he was judging how casual

she looked.

"Is everything okay?" she said, as coolly as possible.

Deepak reached out with an index finger and tapped the tiny gold hoop in her left nostril. "You changed your jewelry."

"Yeah," she said. "In Amsterdam."

"Your hair is longer, too."

She tugged on the end of one of her French braids. "I was going to cut it, but I wanted to find a different stylist than the

one I had before I left for my trip."

Deepak touched the hand that was twirling the end of her hair and turned it over so he could see the inside of her wrist.

His thumb brushed over the tiny, printed lettering. "Veera?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you have a wrist tattoo that says ‘paneer'?"

She shrugged. "I got a tattoo. We were in Japan and had too much sake. I told the artist that I really like cheese. Sana has

a clavicle tattoo that says ‘cash money' in Punjabi."

Deepak nodded. His grip on her wrist tightened and he tugged. She tumbled forward straight into his arms.

As if no time at all had passed between them, Veera's arms wrapped around Deepak's waist on instinct, while his cheek rested

on the crown of her head. She closed her eyes and felt the soft fabric of his shirt and suit coat lapel against her skin,

the hard lines of his back under her fingertips, and his breath against her hair. He was warm and solid and real.

At one time, they'd had so many quiet moments together, so many laughs and conversations until two in the morning. They'd

shared text messages and heated arguments in front of his TV. They'd worked together, argued about their passions, made plans,

and talked about future moments when their lives were inextricably tangled.

But right now, they held each other in the hot, humid Goan air, and Veera knew that running away hadn't helped her forget those memories after all.

The twine she'd used to keep her feelings locked in her heart began to fray, and she held her breath as one by one the strands

snapped until she was drowning with love for a man who didn't feel the same way about her.

She moved to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her back.

"Missed you, Vee," he said, his voice gruff and thick. It grated against her soul, raw and abrasive.

For a moment, she let herself go. Veera fisted her hand in the shirt at the small of his back and burrowed into the rich scent

of his cologne. "Missed you, too, Deeps," she whispered. "Missed you, too."