I have seen it happen. It’s what fuels me.
The string lights we fought with the staff at the brewery to hang up cast a warm, flattering glow over the crowd. The pictures the social media team is clicking areperfect.The playlist I curated is the perfect soundtrack to these budding love stories. The custom cocktails the brewery came up with and that our team named are a hit.
I watch as Kunal moves through the space—a natural host, checking in with the staff, greeting guests, putting out small fires before they can start, and helping create conversations between people where otherwise there would have been an awkward silence. The hundred people who have gathered here will at least have one meaningful conversation thanks to Kunal, and that’s saying something. I sit back with my laptop open and watch it all unfold. I feel competent. I feel alive.
And then, Kunal turns and smiles at me from across the room. I feel my heart jump a little. But with it, it burns too.
Raghav makes sure of that. He makes sure he taints everything I allow myself to feel.
Love. That’s what Raghav used for Kunal and me. It’s not that, it’s not love, not yet, and he knows. But he knows that’s what will hurt me. To call it more than it is. To insinuate that Aman’s forgotten. That I was responsible for keeping his memory alive and I failed. I want to tell him that even without him doing it, I do a pretty good job of that.
I keep watching Kunal easily insert himself into conversations with people. If only Raghav would see him and understand how he grounds me. How he pulls me into the present and forces me there. I wish Raghav understood how he’s a calm island in the middle of the chaos that’s my mind. But he can’t see anything beyond himself and the world he has built for himself. He wants me to stay in that too.
Now I see Kunal walk towards me with a big smile, rubbing his hands in obvious delight.
‘You did this,’ he says, his voice low and warm. A quiet pride fills my chest. ‘Look at them. You made this happen.’
‘So Sameer and Kanika did nothing?’ I tease him, but I’m beaming. A part of me wishes I could share this feeling, this specific victory, with the Raghav I used to know. With the Raghav I thought I knew.
‘Cheers,’ Kunal laughs, raising his glass.
I clink my glass of Coke against his. ‘Cheers.’
And in that moment, looking at his kind, smiling face, I feel a flicker of somethingreal. A possibility. That’s what it is. I’m still trying to unravel what I’m feeling when my phone buzzes in my purse. It’s a conference video call. It’s Tejal and Sumrit in their houses.
‘Bro, I fucked up,’ says Sumrit the moment I answer.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘And it’s Tejal’s fault! She told me how he spoke to you. I called him, gave him shit about it.’
‘So?’ I grumble. ‘He deserves it. Sometimes he just crosses the line.’
Tejal and Sumrit fall silent for a bit. I notice their glum faces.
‘So what? Not the first time it has happened,’ I say.
Tejal starts speaking in a small voice. ‘Actually . . . today’s . . . today’s their anniversary. This is the day they used to celebrate . . .’
‘No!’ I gasp.
‘Yes,’ says Sumrit. ‘Just saw it on Facebook, bro. It gave me a notification.’
‘Shit.’
The guilt is instantaneous and overwhelming. Days like these... these are tough. For him. For me. For us. We used to remember these dates. Be there for each other. Order food the other likes. Get the house work done. Not be too happy. Tiptoe around each other. Rail at the happiness of others together. Suddenly, I feel a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders. His words from our fight echo in my head:Seems like you’re moving on. Forgetting.Fortress of grief.And I was asking him to come out and find love? How could I forget? Am I forgetting? I feel stupid. Stupid and small and rude and insensitive and everything he has accused me of being.
‘Aditi,’ Kunal says, his voice gentle but firm. He’s seen this before. He knows what’s coming.
When he asked me to join his company, I laid bare everything that he was signing up for. I told him I was a wreck, more of a liability than an asset, and would drag his little team down. He said he liked my spark, and I’m not stupid, and I know a part of it was because he found me cute. Or maybe he likes broken people. That could be why he started his little company. For the ones without hope. Without love. Without a future.
‘I have to go,’ I say, already starting to gather my things from the table.
‘Aditi? Can’t this wait an hour? We would need you—’
‘No, I have to go,’ I say packing up my stuff.
‘Are you sure he won’t be able to handle himself for an hour?’ he says, his voice tight with a frustration he’s trying to hide.
