He cries out in pain.
Vanita slams her foot down again on his broken shoulder.
‘Don’t try to get up, Vicky,’ threatens Vanita. ‘You can’t fight me with both shoulders working so don’t try it with one!’
‘BEHENCHOD!’ he screams in pain.
Vanita rolls her eyes. ‘What’s with you guys and swearing? One broken shoulder is not enough or what?’
‘I will destroy you!’ he threatens me.
He will. I am sure of that. This is the last day I will truly feel any kind of happiness. But seeing him helpless and in pain gives me a strange feeling. I examine it in my scared heart and know what it is: it’s revenge.
It feels good.
Vanita laughs at Vicky. ‘You sound like a bad villain, Vicky. You’re going to do nothing of that sort.’
She walks across the room to pick up her phone, which has been standing upright on a table facing us. She shows it to Vicky and then me.
She continues, ‘You assaulted us. And I have proof. It’s done. You’re done.’
‘WHO THE HELL CARES!’ he says, his words melding into agonizing wails.
‘Your employers will care, the police will care, my parents will definitely care,’ says Vanita, matter-of-factly. ‘You think I would really let you smash that plate against my head? I can take down guys your size in my sleep, Vicky. I’m going to repeat it, Vicky. You’renothing.’
‘But you . . .’ he protests angrily, trying to get up again and failing.
Vanita shrugs and mock-wipes her hands. ‘It’s over, Vicky.’
The gravity of what just happened sinks in. This is it. This is freedom. Vicky realizes it too.
‘IT’S NOT FAIR!’ he thunders.
Vanita laughs. ‘That’s cute.’
I scramble to my feet. Blood rushes to all parts of my body. Relief floods me. It feels like I’m reborn.
‘Vicky.’
Vicky turns to look at me.
I continue, ‘What you were doing with me wasn’t fair. Nothing about us was fair. Sanjog, going to my parents, throwing away everything we had. It wasn’t fair.’
‘Look who finally has a voice.’ squeals Vanita, clapping in delight. ‘Finally. I thought I would have to wait till afternoon.’
‘Shut up, Vanita,’ I say.
I walk to where Vicky has slumped down.
‘Don’t come near me,’ he says, like a scared, hurt animal.
I sit next to him. He flinches when I reach out for his shoulder. I touch it softly. ‘Does it hurt?’ I ask him.
He nods, tears and pain flooding him. ‘Of course it hurts,’ he growls.
The anger, the rage, the shame, the regret—I feel it all leave my body. It’s just him—the boy I had met in school, the boy I fell in love with. And it’s me.How can that have changed so much? How has it come to this?All my life I have wanted to grow up, be an adult, take hold of my own life . . . now I realize it’s all a bit overstated.
I look into his eyes. ‘Jaan, look at me, please,’ I tell Vicky. ‘You know what has just happened. It’s over. What we had, it’s done, it’s just over.’
