‘He didn’t,’ I say through gritted teeth. Heat rises to my face, my jaw tightening.
‘Things got tough for him, didn’t they?’
‘No.’
‘See?’ he says, pushing off the doorframe and taking a slow step towards me. The floor creaks under his weight. ‘This is what people are. This is what the real world is.’
‘Listen—’
‘The minute things get messy, they run. They want you to be okay as soon as possible so they don’t have to deal with your shit. See how he abandoned you? You think things will remain the same? They won’t.’
His words are a physical blow. I see his ugly smile. I see the joy in him. The fucking glee. What has happened to him? He’s happy about this.
‘You should be supporting me right now,’ I say, my voice trembling. ‘Not... this. You’re happy about this?! What kind of a friend are you?’
He just looks at me, his eyes cold and empty. His face is unreadable, like stone.
‘I’m just being real,’ he says.
He turns and retreats into his room, shutting the door behind him. The latch clicks, leaving me in silence.
The argument is over. The debate in my head is over. I didn’t even know this was happening in my head till this very moment.
I walk back to the room, my actions automatic not intentional, and I open my laptop. My fingers move quietly, asif he would be able to know what I’m doing with the sound of the keys. I’m on 99acres, then MagicBricks, then NoBroker. I type ‘1BHK for rent, Gurugram’ into the search bar. The screen fills with pictures of small, empty rooms. Soulless white walls, generic tiled floors, kitchens like ours to cook in. They look lonely. But... but... they also look like freedom.
My heart pounds as I scroll.
I spend hours looking, shortlisting, comparing prices.
The next morning, Tejal and I are standing in the middle of a bare, empty apartment in Sector 56, Gurugram. The walls are a depressing shade of beige, paint peeling off like it’s expected to, and the whole place smells like the previous tenants were bachelors. But then again, so was Raghav. But this place is nothing like his.
‘It’s a good decision,’ Tejal says, her voice firm, as if trying to convince both of us. She walks over to the window and peers out. ‘You have to move out, Aditi. You have to build a life that’s just yours.’
I trace a pattern on a dusty kitchen counter with my finger. I had started to write my name, but can’t finish it. As if it will make this place my own and I won’t be able to back out. ‘I know. It’s just...’
‘You feel guilty,’ she finishes for me. ‘Why? After everything he’s put you through?’
‘He’s hurting.’
‘For how long?’ asks Tejal.
‘That’s what he says too,’ I remark. ‘There’s an expiry date to people’s love.’
‘So what if there is,’ she says. ‘It’s being human, Adi. It’s too much. You’re killing yourself.’
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper, and it’s the truth. The guilt is a tangled, irrational knot in my stomach. ‘And I’m angry. Why hashe turned into this person, Tejal? This bitter, cruel version of himself who seems to enjoy my pain?’
‘Maybe this will be good for him,’ she says.
‘C’mon, Tejal.’
‘When you were a wreck, when you first moved in, he had a purpose. He could take care of you. He could be the strong one. Now he’s got Shilpi. He’s good at being the saviour, Adi. Whoknows?’
‘I’m quitting on him,’ I say. ‘That’s what I’m doing.’
‘No, you’re choosing to be okay yourself. This way, neither you nor him are living,’ she says. ‘And he has family now. He has to step up, and knowing him, he will step up. If you have to move out, this is the right time.’
I chuckle sadly. ‘Look at me, sneaking away.’
