‘Now you can have non-dirty, legitimate sex in the eyes of God,’ I whisper.
‘It’s still going to be dirty,’ she whispers back with a laugh.
The rest of the relatives swarm around her, showering her with blessings and wishes. Her mother—who anyway lives in a different city than her—still bursts into tears. Everyone knows that Vanita’s not going to someone else’s house where she will play the coybahu, she’s going to invade it and make it her own.
I find my own parents tear up when Aditya and Vanita touch their feet to get their blessings. Gaurav sulks in the corner, playing the part of the heartbroken lover as he gazes longingly and smiles sadly at them. He looks ridiculous. Then Tejal links her hand with his, and he breaks character and smiles.
When they leave the wedding venue for the hotel lobby among cheers, I feel a sudden void inside of me. Maa–Papa tell me that they are going to the room to change, get some rest and then come down for the reception dinner. Gaurav has already begun chatting with Tejal animatedly. Aditya and Vanita’s friends are making their way to grab another drink. They implore me to join them, and I promise to catch up in a little while. I know I would be lonely with them. Which is strange because I have never felt lonely in my own company.
Seeing Daksh again after so many years has opened up the wound again. This time I can’t slap a Band-Aid on it and hope for it to heal. No matter how far I run, this yearning that has taken root in my heart again is only going to rise. I had ripped him out of my heart once, but I know I won’t be able to do it again. Back then, I had a well of anger to draw from. I felt wronged, betrayed, but now I have nothing. I just have love in my heart for him.
The residual anger I felt for him petered out the moment I saw him, his kind eyes, and sensed that he still felt a little love for me. I have found myself drowning in a sea of emotions—the love I feel for him and the love he still has for me. It’s a powerful combination, and I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to handle it. But one thing is sure—seeing him again has changed everything.
Ten minutes later, I find myself in a taxi hurtling towards the Saudi German Hospital. What do I have to lose that I haven’t lost already? I want to tell him that I want to give us another chance. I want to propose a truce and a love story. A difficult, long-distance love story, but a love story worth a shot. I’m going to go down on one knee and ask him to give me one more shot. I understand this would require an apology, that’s mission-critical. And I would give him one. Who says relationships are built on the truth and only the complete truth? If an apology would set things right, then why not?
I burst through the hospital doors, the frigid air blasting me in the face. The hallway feels as though it has been dipped in ice, sending shivers down my spine. And then I notice it, my lehenga is not meant for the morgue-like cold. All around me, eyes are glued to the spectacle. A girl in wedding finery, sprinting through the halls of a hospital. I know what they must be thinking, how crazy I must seem. But I don’t care. I have to do this. I catch a glimpse of the nurse from earlier as she exits his room. With every step, the absurdity of my actions grows clearer. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. And then I’m there, standing in front of the nurse.
The nurse shakes her head. ‘Another one? There’s already a visitor inside.’
Visitor? I wonder how Gaurav could have got to him before I did. My heart pounding, I slowly nudge open the door and freeze in my tracks. My breath catches in my throat as I see her.
Even with her back turned to me, I know exactly who is sitting on Daksh’s bed: Amruta Thakur. The sound of her voice, so familiar and so detested, fills the room.
‘No ceremony . . . just you and me . . .’ the voice says. ‘Seeing you like this, it’s scary, Daksh. We shouldn’t be alone, should we? It makes sense, you and I, our kids . . . it’s like we were custom-built for each other.’
The silence between them feels like an eternity, as if time itself has frozen in place. I try to command my body to move, to run to him and stop what’s about to happen. But my limbs refuse to obey me, and I am trapped. My heart beats so fast that I can barely hear myself think. With each pulse, it seems to shatter and then mend again in a never-ending cycle. I want to scream out my feelings to Daksh, but my voice is stuck in my throat, and all I can manage is a shallow breath. My feet feel like they’re bolted to the ground, and I can’t move, no matter how hard I try.
‘We are . . . made for each other,’ says Daksh.
The woman leans over and kisses my Daksh on his lips.
Is that the end?
