Page 8 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

AHANA

T he last time I’d tried to please a man, I’d been whacked hard enough to end up with broken bones and a cracked soul. So, of course, I wasn’t going to listen to this man. No man was ever going to make me feel weak again. He may have been the don, but he wasn’t the don of me.

Lia had giggled when I’d told her I wasn’t giving head to her obnoxious, controlling brother and I was, in fact, still going to get a job like the self-respecting woman I wanted to be.

Ada didn’t really know anything about her demon son’s demands, so she was all smiles as she waved me off as I had walked out for my first ever interview.

Her only demand was that I be driven to the interview.

Like mother, like son. I obeyed her, though.

To some extent. The moment we rounded the corner, I made the boy driving the car, who was barely above eighteen, stop the car, and walked off to get the bus.

If I wanted a controlling man and to be driven around, I’d go back home with my tail between my legs.

My brothers were more than capable of filling in the roles.

I didn’t need a soul sucking don for-that.

The man was an annoyance as much as a concrete block at the end of a narrow one-way street.

I had hoped that staying with Ada was going to give me the much-needed break to sort myself out.

But if he was going to be a permanent factor, I might have to move away.

And that I would rather not do. I liked it here, and I was tired of being on the run.

This was the first time I’d managed to stay put for more than a few days.

It made my patience run thin as a voile cloth, and the clarity was showing the real me underneath it.

The one carrying the disappointment and lugging the bitterness.

With it came the sinking realisation. No one had my back.

No one chose me. The only person who would, was too weak to protect me.

I was just a girl facing the whole damn world out to get me.

How did I, an Indian girl who had always been chaperoned my entire life, end up in this situation?

Karma, Maa had said when I had told her what had happened so many months ago.

I must have done a million bad things in my past life to earn this.

Well, I was taking charge and changing it. Fake it till you make it, right?

My life was full of firsts now, but thankfully, they were unlike the firsts I had experienced in my brief marriage.

These brought a thrill to my bones and pulled me out of the dark shell I had sunk into one deep exhale at a time.

The first time I’d ridden a bus was etched into my memory.

It was much like this bus I was riding on.

Only then my heart had been skittish, thumping like a captured bird in a cage.

Disbelief that I had done it and fear that he’d find me had kept the adrenaline pumping.

For the first time in my life, I had chosen myself.

Put my needs first before anyone else’s.

As I stepped off the bus and walked to my very first interview, I was determined I would continue to choose myself. No one else was going to, anyway.

The swing door moved past me as I walked out of the trendy, clear glass building. The sun caught my eyes as I looked up and bathed me in its rays. It was midday, and the sun was in its element, showing off. The day was nothing but clear blue skies. The weather reflected my mood.

For the first time in my life, I was employed.

What you going to do? Run away?

The cold sneer of Rajesh’s words stabbed my chest like he’d just uttered them and the million others that followed, every day, for four long months.

How you going to survive?

As I’d listened to Signor Giordano negotiate my salary, I hadn’t heard his euro-filled promises. All I’d heard was another batch of my husband’s vile words.

You can’t even afford to buy a loaf of bread.

Well, things had changed. I had a roof over my head, even if it wasn’t exactly mine, and a job thanks to Ada, who had forged my papers.

I only hoped she hadn’t involved her son to get them, but something told me she hadn’t.

I had a feeling she liked her son’s involvement as much as I did. Not at all.

My feet took me across the street to the park beyond.

I was a stranger here. No one knew me or the story behind the runaway girl.

Except for Ada. But I knew she would keep my secrets close to her heart.

I suspected she had some of her own that drove her to do it.

Only a woman in misery could understand the pain of another.

The pumps I’d worn weren’t the most comfortable for the cobblestones, but once I hit the gravel, my steps picked up.

For anyone passing by, I looked like the epitome of a creative professional.

A curry yellow pencil skirt and a matching loose raw silk blouse, ivory pumps, and a big gold cuff on my thin wrist. Huge yellow and gold Jumka earrings hung from my ears, almost touching my shoulders, and the thin gold chain with Pāpā’s picture in the heart-shaped locket wrapped around my neck.

I stopped at a lone bench set against a hedge and across from a bird bath. Best part was that there was hardly anyone around. A quick glance at the background told me this could be anywhere.

Settling down, I took out my phone and swapped the SIM cards.

Being on the run meant calculated actions.

Pulling my hair out of the tight ponytail I’d kept it in, I tousled it to a casual look.

I’d specifically worn an outfit that could look casual from the top up.

I’d done it so many times in the past few weeks that it had sadly become a ritual.

Like brushing your teeth before hitting the bed.

But it didn’t stop my pulse from spiking with nervous energy. It never did.

When I was sure that everything was set, I pressed for the video call.

It only took two rings before Pāpā’s smiling face lit up the screen. “Ahana, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Pāpā.” Disappointment coasted through my veins when I saw my mother walking past behind him. “You’re not in the office?”

“I was feeling a bit tired. Your old man is getting old now. Can’t always be the workaholic now, can I?”

My smile wobbled. No child wanted to see their foundation growing weak before their eyes. It hurt to see him like this. “You are sixty-one, Pāpā, that’s like the new fifties.”

“Ha, tell that to my heart. It might disagree.”

I heard my mother grumbling in the background. “What’s Maa saying?”

He rolled his eyes and ignored my question. I already knew whatever she had said wasn’t kind enough to repeat. “So, what have you been up to? You haven’t called for two weeks.”

“It’s not been two weeks.”

“Last time you called was the Tuesday before Devi’s wedding.” My mother’s voice flattened my lie instantly.

I grimaced. “I guess it has been two weeks, then. I was busy.”

“Doing what?” My mother came into view, carrying her suspicion with her.

Pāpā frowned at her. “What’s got into you? She’s married. She doesn’t need to ask permission from us.”

“Not us. Is she asking Rajesh? Where are you now? Where is Rajesh?”

My cheeks cracked. I fought to keep the fake smile pasted on it.

This is the exact reason that I called my father.

Never my mother. As if her refusal to believe me wasn’t enough, her judgement was daunting.

Sucked the energy right out of me. I called Pāpā when I knew he would be in his office.

Too bad luck wasn’t part of the program today.

“I’m fine, Maa, thank you for asking.” I didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm. “I’m out in the city.” I looked beyond my phone to make sure no one was around.

“Rajesh allowed you to walk around London alone?” Her voice was laced with doubt. I guess she knew my husband well. He wouldn’t even allow me out in the garden alone.

“No. He’s getting a haircut. I’m just seated across the street.” The lie slipped out as easily as oil on marble.

“You make sure we don’t hear any complaints.”

Pāpā glared at her. “What has got into you? Did you speak to your mother again? When you talk to that woman, your thoughts always roll back a hundred years. She’s our daughter. We want her happiness. Nothing else.”

“You don’t understand, Vad. Geetha spoke to me yesterday and she didn’t sound happy—”

“I don’t care about her happiness.” Pāpā’s voice strained before he turned the conversation back to me, and nervous energy trilled through the phone. “You don’t need to worry about your mother-in-law. Are you happy, Ahana?”

Karma might have been a bitch to me, but I got the best damn father in the world.

But he was wrong. It was never about my happiness.

I was a daughter. Society’s eyes were on me the moment I let my first cry out.

Did I cry too soon, too loud? Was my body too thin, too thick?

Was I too dark, too pale? Each breath I took was an opportunity for me to fail. So my happiness wasn’t a factor in it.

If it had been, I could tell him I chose myself.

I could tell him I left my wife-beating, jealous, obsessed husband.

Maybe Pāpā would have put my happiness before society.

But I cared more about his. He was my world, and I’d do anything to make it a happy place for him.

I never wanted to see my father fail. I would never give society the power to do it. I knew that.

I wanted to tell him I was happy now. I wanted to tell him about my new job. He would be proud, I was sure of that.

Instead, I forced another lie out of my dry, sore throat. “Of course I’m happy.”

Next to him, my mother’s lips pinched. She saw my lie and she chose what women have done for years. She chose to ignore it.

It took me an hour to recover. Another to get the bus and get back to my new home.

The bus was heated by the sun, and we passed warm, smiling faces along the curvy, gravelled road.

But icy hands had found their way to my slow-beating heart.

Realisation seeped into me. It was deadly as a thick black snake on a lonely path.

I was never going to find my way out of this.

It wasn’t guesswork. It was my reality. I shouldn’t have walked out.

The agony of a broken body had given me no other choice.

Now doubt, cold and withered, slithered along my veins.

Not for the decision I had made, but the consequences I had to face.

Walking away might have rid me of him, but my family would have to know the painful truth.

My lungs squeezed when I thought about the shame that Pāpā would have to face.

His extended family, his colleagues, his friends.

Everyone would find an opportunity in this.

I shouldn’t have done this. I knew that for sure.

It had only been four months. I should have stayed.

He’d only hit me on six different occasions. I should have sucked it up like Maa told me to. Maybe she was right... maybe I pushed him to do it. Maybe it was my imagination.

I should have crawled back to him and taken his words and his deeds.

Kept my mouth shut and my thoughts hidden.

I could have done it until my death, and no one would have been the worse for it.

Especially my father. The reputation of my family would have been intact.

But I hadn’t thought, and I had run. I should have known better.

A girl could never be the one to bring down a family’s reputation. I had made a mistake.

What was I to do now? He wouldn’t tell anyone because his secrets would be out then. My word against his.

Could I run for the rest of my life or hide within the Cosa Nostra?

The bus dropped me off, and I stood forlorn.

I should never have grown up. Shouldn’t have gone past twenty-three.

But I’d kept breathing, and here I was in this mess.

I was moving, but my feet felt heavy. Like a block of concrete cuffed to my legs.

I couldn’t bring myself to face the world.

As I rounded the corner to Ada’s home, I fought to let the worry, the stress, the disappointment, and the anger shed away from me.

With each step I took, I forced a lightness into my heart.

I was determined to be the glass-half-full person.

I didn’t care for the ten negatives if I could latch onto one that gave me a spark of hope.

I had to think of my job. The one I got on my own.

Not using my father’s influence or my husband’s.

My ex-husband’s, if everything went according to my plan, the one I wasn’t the architect of.

Because the thing was, I wasn’t sure anymore what the best outcome was.