Monsoon was almost over. Thank God for that. However, it continued to rain every alternate day. To me, this city was slowly becoming London in terms of rain. The other factors I couldn't even think of comparing. Only, the weather was in a similar mood swing.

Spending all my college years in London, where afternoon rain was practically a ritual, my dislike towards this season turned into something closer to loathing.

I absolutely hated the season. 

Not because construction works progressed awfully slowly during this period, but also because of the inconvenience it caused to daily life. 

Damn irritating!

Running out of the building and reaching the parking area, I rushed into my car while curses came out of my mouth like rapid fire. 

I started the engine, threw the car into reverse, and rolled onto the main road. 

I had bought the Jeep after a month of struggling with rentals. The thought of taking the public transport here made me cringe. 

No, I did not see the mode of transportation beneath me, but it just wasn't my cup of tea. It took me a bit of time to understand the navigation here, but I was good with directions, so driving on my own in the city wasn't a problem, even though I was still trying to settle in. For a brief time, of course.

On the other hand, convincing the society secretary to allow a separate car parking while their entire space was almost full was a nuance. From paperwork to delayed decisions, they took a month to give me a go-ahead. Not before listing down numerous ridiculous rules for the residents that I needed to follow as well. 

Pathetic!

Due to all these shitty rules, I had repeatedly said I didn't want to stay inside a society, but my mother, being the stubborn bong lady that she was, remained adamant. She emotionally blackmailed me to stay at her old neighbourhood in the same apartment as my brother. It was a huge deal-breaker for me; however, winning arguments against my mother was impossible.

My grandparents passed away long ago, and the remaining relatives my mother had were settled abroad then I didn't understand why she always insisted we stay here whenever we visited Kolkata. Now I kept complaining and she kept ignoring.  

Moreover, the apartment was irritatingly eerie. There was always this strange pricking at the back of my neck. The space should've felt open with all those windows and balconies, but instead, the apartment felt cramped and suffocating. With its gloomy and dusty air that somehow didn't budge even after spraying heavy air fresheners, the apartment clung to its mustiness like a second skin. 

It was high time maa and dada let go of this dying legacy. It was simply useless.

For my brother, Kolkata was like a home, but not for me. They couldn't expect me to blend in like he did. Despite my connections with the city, I had never been here before, and the reasons were not up for debate.

"Of course I have tried the sweets maa, Your friends here pamper me beyond your imagination!" I calmly answered, though the mention of Bengali sweets simply irked me.

I was trying to wrap up the call quickly and dropped several hints for my mother. But as always, she ignored the hints and kept talking.

"Don't talk to me like that!" came her sharp voice from the other end. 

What the fuck did I do now?

"What is wrong with you, Ved? You are acting as if you are doing some kind of favour by picking up my call. Is this the way I have taught you to speak to your mother? And you didn't even help your sister! What is happening to you? "

Okay! So this was Misha's plan to remind me that the deadline was fast approaching. She instigated maa on purpose. Wait till I see you Misha, I'll grill you alive!

"When did you become so ignorant?" My mother continued, "You have started to behave irrationally after going to Kolkata. My people can't have bad influences on you; they are the most humble souls."

Humble my foot!

"And why do I hear arrogance in your voice every time I speak with you? What happened to you, Ved?" My mother demanded, ranting out as she always did.

Well, Shoumili Banerjee happened.

However, I couldn't tell that to her; otherwise, she would start with her hundred questions. Frankly speaking, I was not in the mood nor in the situation to play along with her.

Did I also mention that Priyadarshini Malhotra didn't question; she interrogated!?

Whoever said Punjabi mothers were dangerous definitely didn't meet a Bengali one.

"Maa, I need to go now. Bye." I hung up, fully knowing I'll have to bear the consequences of the horrible act later. 

It was after all an unwritten rule: No obedient son hung up on his mother. And I just broke that rule. Oh! She will have a field day blasting my ears off in the next call. But I had had enough. My daily dose of hearing my mother's scolding was done for today.

Anyways, I'll deal with her later. For now, I had other things in mind.

The moment I had parked the car near my destination, my phone started ringing. 

"Not again!" I groaned seeing the name on the screen and tried to suppress the urge to smash the device.

Misha! That brat! It was again my irritating sister Misha. God! She didn't have an ounce of patience in her. Which part of the sentence 'I am trying to fix the appointment' did she not understand?

I cursed, coming out of the car and strode towards the south Kolkata cafe. I ignored Misha's call and put the device on silent. I had no intention of continuing the same conversation with my sister; instead, I concentrated on getting the appointment fast so that I could get her off my toe.

Are you sure she will be here?

I texted Shreetama di.

Yes. I confirmed.

Her reply came within seconds.

I sighed, looking up at the artistic signboard. 

Kresha's Den. 

I read the name of the café.

Located in a narrow road where thankfully people seemed to mind their own business, the café occupied the ground floor of a small building at the end of the lane. The entrance was a vibrant yellow door with doodles on it and opened into a large layout with tables spread on wooden flooring.

I looked around and could only see teenagers and new adults engrossed in their chatter. They hardly cared about the surroundings, but at least the place smelled nice. I walked up to a far corner, tossed my phone and car keys on an empty table, settled down on the iron chair, which was a bit small for my frame and ordered a regular black coffee.

God! I never thought I would be waiting for that creature that too, at a café frequented by school and college goers. Even the menu was horrible. Who ate momos with coffee?

Around four o'clock and after I had gulped down three cups of shitty coffee, Madam finally made an appearance.  

My eyes landed on her the moment she walked in. 

Dressed in a red cotton kurti and light blue jeans, with not a trace of makeup on that annoyingly expressive face, there was something so effortless about her, like for real. Pure and innocent.  

My lips curved into a smile without even realising it. 

If I could somehow forget her irritating behaviour around me, she was... a decent catch. More than decent, actually. 

She brushed her hair back as she looked around, and for a second, just a blink of a second, I caught myself staring. Not judging. Just staring.

She stepped aside, and the brief moment of warmth that had flickered vanished. 

My gaze snagged on the two faces behind her. She wasn't alone. Those obnoxious perverts she called 'friends' were with her.

Immediately, an unpleasant memory snapped inside me, hitting like a slap. A bitter flash from the past exploded. My jaw tightened. Fists curled under the table. A metallic taste crept up my throat. I didn't move. I didn't blink. But every part of me screamed to lash out, to throw something, to make it stop.

If I hated Shumi, I loathed her two friends. 

Chaya and Archana. 

Just the sight of them was enough to twist my gut.

Chaya Sen, with that fake smile of hers masking the filth in her mind, and Archana Basu, cold, calculating, and a manipulative bitch. They weren't just toxic; they were poison. Self-obsessed perverts who made my skin crawl.

Sometimes I wondered why society simply dubbed men as players. Weren't they aware of such women who might just put men to shame as well? 

However, they didn't choose their prey wisely. 

I wasn't some desperate boy eager to trade dignity for attention, and I sure as hell wasn't someone who could be lured with soft touches and lustful whispers. 

I had made it clear that they had messed with the wrong man.

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