Once Again In Love

CHAPTER 4

Bhoomika twirled in front of Atharva, the glittering fabric of her knee-length dress catching the light. "Atharva Sir, look at this," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She stood before him, the vibrant blue hue of the dress contrasting with her dark hair, a picture of anticipation.

But Atharva's response was lackluster. He simply uttered a bored "hmm," his attention seemingly elsewhere. Despite this, Bhoomika didn't let her disappointment show. After all, the room was bustling with designers and crew members, and she maintained her composure in their midst.

Atharva was engrossed in his phone screen, his focus dedicated to ensuring everything was set for the upcoming award ceremony. With all his meetings concluded, he had already tasked the PR team with double-checking every detail before, during, and after the event.

Even though he still had a few people to speak to, his father's persistent reminders about commenting on the actress's dress nagged at him. Despite this, his attention remained fixed on his phone, navigating through emails and messages, determined to keep everything in perfect order for the big day.

"Ma'am, could we speed this up a bit?" a designer piped up, breaking the two-hour-long dress selection session. "We still need to plan makeup, hairstyles, and outfits for the rest of the crew."

Bhoomika scoffed at the interruption. "I'm the main attraction here," she declared haughtily. "People will be flocking to the theater to see me, not anyone else." With an eye roll, she concluded her statement, leaving Atharva cringing at her snarky response.

The designers exchanged a look of contempt but decided to sit their, ignoring their humiliation.

"Bhoomika, have you made a decision on the dress? Are we settling on this one?" Atharva's voice carried an urgent edge, frustration simmering beneath the surface as his index finger pointed to the blue dress she wore.

Bhoomika hesitated, her gaze lingering on the black dress she had been eyeing for the past half hour. "I'm not entirely sure if this dress is what I want. I'm still considering the black one," she replied, her lips forming a slight pout of indecision.

Atharva felt his irritation bubbling up. He ran a hand through his thick hair, his frustration mounting. Despite his exasperation, Bhoomika seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil, her attention still fixated on the dresses before her.

He knew he had to find a way out of this deadlock, and the only escape route was through compliments. "You know what? I actually prefer this blue dress on you. It's like you stepped out of a dream wearing it. And really, does a dress even enhance your beauty? Nah, you're already stunning," he said with a charming smile, his words aimed to appease.

Bhoomika couldn't help but be taken aback by his flattery. She tilted her head, admiring his handsome features, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks at his kind words. She couldn't shake off how attractive he looked, and his compliment left her feeling a flutter of warmth inside.

"The blue dress it is," Bhoomika declared decisively, eliciting gasps of satisfaction from the designers. They exited the room, accompanied by a few crew members, to finalize their attire choices.

Left alone in the room, Bhoomika and Atharva remained. Atharva was currently engrossed in a phone call.

"Yeah, I insist, Sir. Your presence is a must," Atharva insisted firmly over the phone, his tone conveying his unwavering determination. "You're a crucial part of this film, and your attendance would mean a lot to me."

Atharva smiled warmly as he spoke to the director, his belief in teamwork shining through. He never underestimated the importance of any team member, from directors to spot-boys, treating everyone with respect and appreciation for their contributions.

After receiving a nod of agreement from the director and assurance of his attendance, Atharva hung up the phone, satisfied that his message had been conveyed effectively.

"Sir, are we still on for that movie date?" Bhoomika asked tentatively, her voice tinged with uncertainty. It felt like she was a teenager nervously asking out her crush.

"A date? That's quite presumptuous, Bhoomika," Atharva chuckled, his laughter lacking genuine amusement. While Bhoomika was eagerly anticipating their movie outing, Atharva would willingly pay a fortune just to avoid going with her.

Despite Atharva's lukewarm response, Bhoomika couldn't contain her excitement. She was a huge fan of Hollywood films, and the prospect of watching a movie at the prestigious theater with him was thrilling.

"Yeah, sorry. I mean, we are still going, right?" Bhoomika persisted, her hope clinging to a sliver of possibility.

Atharva sighed, his expression apologetic but firm. "No, I'm sorry, Bhoomika. I'm not interested," he replied, brushing off her invitation just as he had done with her previous advances.

It wasn't the first time Atharva had rejected her, but each time stung just as much as the last.

"Sir, what's wrong with you? Have I done something wrong? Have I ever let you down?" Bhoomika's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt, her frustration boiling over.

"Why do you keep treating me like this?" she demanded, her words tinged with an edge of desperation. Today, she had reached her breaking point, tired of enduring one disappointment after another.

Atharva couldn't bear the accusation in Bhoomika's raised voice. He turned sharply to face her, his gaze piercing and commanding. As his stern eyes locked with hers, Bhoomika's defiance waned, and she shifted her gaze to the floor, unable to meet his intensity.

"If I had even the slightest dissatisfaction with your work, you wouldn't have lasted past your first audition, no matter who recommended you," Atharva's voice was firm, cutting through the tension in the room. "But the truth is, you're a talented actress. Just work on being a better person, and you'll be golden."

His words hit Bhoomika like a slap, the truth behind them stinging her pride. But Atharva wasn't done yet. "As for why I treat you the way I do," he continued, his tone unwavering, "the answer is simple. Any girl half your age would have understood by now. I don't like you. We both know we're only doing this because our fathers force us to. So, stop being a crybaby."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving Bhoomika stunned and speechless. She had never expected such blunt honesty from him, and it cut deeper than she cared to admit.

He exited the room and shut the door, indicating his rage.

AN HOUR LATER

"Did you just turn down Bhoomika for that movie date?" Atharva's dad's voice boomed through the phone, his tone sharp and disapproving, causing Atharva to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Dad, we have the award ceremony tomorrow," Atharva retorted, his frustration evident. "I don't have the luxury of free time to attend a movie 'date,' as you so call it. I have more important matters to attend to." He continued typing on his laptop, multitasking while holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"She's not a child. If she's so keen on seeing the movie, she can go alone. I've already arranged a car for her," he added, his voice firm and decisive. Despite his father's disapproval, Atharva remained steadfast in his priorities, refusing to let anything distract him from his responsibilities.

"The point isn't about the film, Atharva," his father's voice resonated, filled with urgency. "It's about moving on. You need to let go of Shanaya. She's in the past, and dwelling on it won't change anything. It's been five long years since that divorce, and you haven't even tried to move on, let alone consider marrying again."

The memories flooded Atharva's mind, the scent of Shanaya's perfume lingering in the air as if she were still there beside him. He clenched his fists, trying to push aside the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

"You think you're being loyal by holding onto the past?" his father continued, his tone tinged with concern. "But have you ever considered how many men she might have been with since then? You know the kind of girl she was. Wasn't she the one who initiated the divorce? Let her live with her regrets, son."

Atharva's heart ached at the mention of Shanaya's name, the bitter taste of regret lingering on his tongue. He knew his father meant well, but the wounds from the past were still fresh, the scars too deep to simply forget. As he closed his eyes, he could almost feel Shanaya's presence, her laughter echoing in the silence of his thoughts.

"Dad, it's not about Shanaya," Atharva asserted, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of frustration. "I've moved on from her. I don't dwell on the past anymore, and it doesn't hurt like it used to. But not everything I do or don't do revolves around her. You need to stop thinking that way."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And it's certainly not our place to speculate about her personal life. She's a grown woman, and her choices are her own business. We should respect that."

Atharva's words held a quiet determination, a resolve to set the record straight. "As for dating or marrying again," he continued, his voice softer now, "it's not because I'm still mired in sadness or depression over our separation. It's simply because I haven't found someone who's worth my time yet. But when I do, I'll give her everything, and I'll make sure to do everything differently than before." He uttered the last part with a sense of solemnity, his gaze fixed on a distant point as memories of his past relationship lingered in his mind.

They continued talking. The sound of his father's voice echoed in the room, each word carrying a subtle urgency, as if urging him to seize an opportunity that he wasn't sure he wanted.

"What does a man want? Bhoomika's beautiful, she has a charming style, and she's mature. You just need to spend more time with her, get to know her better, and love will come naturally."

Atharva couldn't deny the logic in his father's words, but the thought of pursuing a relationship with Bhoomika left him feeling conflicted. The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in as if suffocating him with expectations he wasn't ready to meet. He took a deep breath, trying to push aside the doubts and uncertainties clouding his mind.

"You're talking about looks, Dad? Really?" Atharva's voice carried a touch of exasperation as he countered his father's argument. "Sure, Bhoomika's beautiful, but so is every other woman I come across in this industry. Working in entertainment, I've learned that looks can be deceiving. Not every pretty face hides a pretty heart."

He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air as he continued. "And as for maturity, I haven't seen that in Bhoomika yet. But even if I do, I won't be swayed. I've learned my lesson, Dad."

With a sense of finality, Atharva bid his father goodbye and ended the call. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate, leaving Atharva feeling a mix of relief and resolve. He knew where his priorities lay, and it wasn't in pursuing a relationship based solely on appearances.

As Atharva reflected on his conversation with his father, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him, like a turbulent storm raging within. The room felt suffocatingly quiet, the only sound the faint hum of his laptop and the distant rumble of traffic outside.

His father's words echoed in his mind, resonating with a truth he couldn't deny. Since Shanaya's departure, Atharva hadn't been the same. A heavy sense of guilt weighed on his shoulders, like chains binding him to the past, preventing him from embracing the present.

The memory of their divorce played out like a vivid scene before his eyes. Shanaya's expression, once filled with love and laughter, now etched with weariness and resignation, haunted him. He could almost feel the weight of her disappointment pressing down on him, suffusing the air with a palpable sense of regret.

Closing his eyes, Atharva let out a heavy sigh, his chest constricted with the weight of unresolved emotions. Despite his efforts to move on, the ghost of their failed marriage lingered, a constant reminder of what could have been. And as much as he tried to deny it, he knew that his father's words held a kernel of truth, a truth he couldn't ignore.

The memory haunted Atharva like a shadow, lurking in the corners of his mind, refusing to fade away. He could still picture Shanaya standing in the courtroom, her once vibrant eyes now dull with resignation. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, glistening in the harsh light of the courtroom, a silent testament to the pain she was enduring.

The air in the courtroom was heavy with tension, suffused with the weight of their failed marriage. Atharva could feel the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him, suffocating him with its intensity. The sound of the judge's pronouncement echoed in his ears, each word a sharp reminder of the irreversible loss he had inflicted upon himself.

But what hurt the most was Shanaya's silence. She hadn't uttered a single word, her silence speaking volumes more than any accusation or insult ever could. Even her lawyer, with a demeanor as cold as ice, hadn't demanded a single penny from Atharva. The divorce was a stark slap in the face, a harsh awakening to the grim reality of his actions.

As Atharva reflected on the scene, a sense of profound sadness washed over him, like a tidal wave crashing against the shores of his soul. He realized, with a pang of regret, that he had taken Shanaya for granted, assuming that he could always have her, just like he had always gotten whatever he wanted since childhood. But now, faced with the emptiness of her absence, he couldn't help but long for the warmth of her love, a love he had foolishly let slip through his fingers.

As Atharva rose from his chair, the weight of his thoughts pulling him towards the window, the room seemed to close in around him. The soft glow of the afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the floor. The air was still, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves outside the window.

With his hands buried deep in his pockets, Atharva moved towards the window, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floorboards. As he reached the window, he gazed out at the world beyond, the bustling cityscape stretching out before him like a canvas painted with hues of gray and blue.

Alone with his thoughts, Atharva felt a wave of longing wash over him, a pang of regret gnawing at his heart. He knew deep down that Shanaya bore no fault in their divorce. It hadn't been a sudden decision; there had been signs, subtle hints that he had chosen to ignore until it was too late.

They say you always get an inkling before the death of a person, and the same held true for marriages. Atharva had felt that inkling, that nagging sense of unease, but he had pushed it aside, too blinded by his own arrogance to see the truth staring him in the face.

As he stood at the window, lost in his thoughts, Atharva realized with a sinking feeling that he had squandered the greatest gift life had ever given him – Shanaya's love. And now, faced with the emptiness of her absence, he couldn't help but wish for a chance to make things right, to mend the broken pieces of their shattered relationship.

As Atharva stood by the window, a heavy sense of resignation settled over him like a suffocating blanket. The room felt stiflingly silent, the air thick with the weight of his thoughts. Outside, the city buzzed with life, oblivious to the turmoil raging within him.

He couldn't shake the bitter truth from his mind – Shanaya had moved on. And who could blame her? In the narrative of their relationship, she had emerged as the victim, the one wronged by his shortcomings. It was easy to move on when you were the one painted as the good person, the innocent party.

A hollow ache settled in Atharva's chest as he confronted the harsh reality of their broken relationship. He had promised himself not to succumb to jealousy if news ever came of Shanaya seeing someone else. But the thought of her with another man tore at his heart, a painful reminder of all that he had lost.

Being a TV actress meant spending countless hours with co-stars, sharing intimate moments on-screen and off. Atharva couldn't help but imagine the allure Shanaya must exude, her charm and grace captivating those around her. Who wouldn't fall for a girl like her?

As he gazed out the window, a sense of melancholy washed over him, the world outside a blur of muted colors and distant sounds. In that moment of solitude, Atharva couldn't help but mourn the love he had let slip away, knowing deep down that he was powerless to change the past.

Atharva leaned against the window, his hand resting on the cool surface of the glass, his silver watch catching the sunlight and casting glimmers of light across the room. His eyes traced the movements of the cars below, each one a fleeting blur against the backdrop of a bustling afternoon.

They say time heals all wounds, but as Atharva stared out at the world passing by, he couldn't help but feel the ache of his own mistakes, the wounds of his past actions still raw and tender. With each passing day, they seemed to fester and grow, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.

He knew he couldn't undo the past, couldn't erase the mistakes that had led to their downfall. But he also knew that he couldn't allow himself to dwell on them, to let them consume him with regret and sorrow.

With a heavy sigh, Atharva made a silent vow to himself – to bury those thoughts deep within the recesses of his mind, to lock them away until another day when melancholy threatened to engulf him once again..