‘No, I’m good,’ I say. ‘Talk later?’
I hang up just as Raghav turns from the sink, a glass of water in his hand.
‘Hey,’ I say, trying not to lose the excitement I have for the work that needs to be done today. ‘Morning.’
‘It’s afternoon,’ he says and then drinks the water in one long gulp.
He turns away from me and puts two slices of bread into the toaster and stares, waiting for it to pop out. Music spills out from the headphones that are hanging from his neck. His playlist is just ten songs. It’s not even his playlist, it’s Megha’s. He hasn’t added one song in the last nineteen months. I want to talk to him, but of late I’m running out of ways to talk to him. Sooner or later, I know we will hit a roadblock and we will end up in a screaming match. The usual.
‘That was work,’ I offer, gesturing vaguely at my phone.
‘I know,’ he nods.
‘We’re doing a soft launch for a new event series on Friday. At that new brewery in Sector 29.’
‘Great,’ he says. The slices pop out.
‘You should come. It’ll be fun.’
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he butters his toast. He has warned me about this before as well—about trying to find love for him. But then, just because he thinks he’s right about wallowing in a world that’s make-believe doesn’t make him right. I have to make him see that, no matter how many screaming matches we might find ourselves in. He turns around slowly. My face is already warm. He looks at me, then his eyes drift to my cluttered table, to the cheerful poster on my laptop screen. A look I have seen before settles on his face.
‘Another one of your selling people on their “last chance at love”?’ he asks, his voice flat, taking a deliberate bite of his toast.
‘I mean—’
‘It’s just funny,’ he continues with malice in his voice, chewing slowly.
‘There’s nothing funny—’
‘This whole idea that you can find “the one”. There’s no “The One”.People fall in love all the time. Sometimes right after the last one.’
‘That’s unfair.’
‘At the end of the day, no one cares,’ he says. ‘Everyone’s just out there trying to fucking kill their loneliness.’
The words land like a slap.
‘I’m not in love,’ I defend myself though I know there’s no point defending anything to him because he will only hear what he wants to hear.
He smiles mockingly at me. This studied nonchalance is irritating. I know he cares. I know he cares a little too much.
‘That’s not fair, Raghav,’ I say, my own voice turning cold.
‘Why are you getting so defensive? Kunal’s a nice guy... the literal definition of tall, dark and handsome... is also older, so your type.’
My ears burn. I don’t want to fight, I tell myself. This is a boy I care about.
He continues, ‘I’m happy for you.’
Of course, he’s mocking me. He waits for my repartee. When none comes, he turns and goes back to his room, closing the door behind him. I stand there, my fists clenched, my throat tight. The thrill of the phone call is now completely gone, replaced by a familiar, heavy ache. Why do I let him do this to me? Why do I let him drag me through this? I look at my toppling stacks of paper, the evidence of my new life, and it feels... dirty somehow? Am I not allowed to feel happiness? No. I won’t let him do that.
My phone buzzes. It’s a video call from Tejal. I take a deep breath, force a smile and answer even though I know she’s going to catch it no matter how much I smile.
‘You look stressed,’ is the first thing she says. And then a frown creeps up on her face. ‘Don’t tell me. Him again.’
‘Yaar, Tejal,’ I mutter to myself.
I just nod, turning to look out the window. I can see the city moving on below, cars zipping through. Everyone is going somewhere. Except him. And us. He’s an invisible cloak around me, reminding me that we should have never come out of the dark. That I should stay there with him.
