‘I feel like I’m leaving you.’
He shakes his head. ‘Our old families were shackles. We chose each other... we can’t be the same, right? You have to go, you go. I will be okay.’
I want to believe him. But his eyes tell another story.
I nod. I don’t know what else to say.
‘My biggest event is tonight,’ I say finally, my voice a little shaky. ‘The collaboration with the gin brand. It’s a huge deal for Connect.’ I take a breath. ‘You should come.’
He’s quiet for a long moment, just staring into his coffee mug. I expect him to refuse. Because he too understands what I haven’t said. I don’t want him to be there for me. I want him to be there for himself, to find someone. Does it feel like I’m palming off my responsibility to someone else? Maybe. But as Kunal says, we are too complex to be understood by just oneperson.
‘Okay,’ he says finally, looking up. ‘Yeah. I’ll be there.’
I blink, not trusting my ears. I wait for him to take it back. He doesn’t.
For a moment, I think I misheard him. But then, I see the small smile on his lips. And I feel a warmth in my heart I didn’t think I would ever feel.
‘I will wait,’ I say.
And then, we get back to packing more of the boxes. But every now and then, I look up, dreading he would change his mind, but he says nothing and I keep praying he comes.
When we’re done, I ask him again, ‘You’re going to come, right?’
‘If you don’t start getting ready right now,’ he answers, ‘you’re going to be late for your event.’
And that’s what I do. As I get ready, I hear his shuffling in the other room. Maybe things can be right? And today’s the starting of it all? I can’t help but think that this is my doing. If I can do it, he can do it too, that sort of thing. I can’t help but smile at my own hubris and ego.
I pause in front of the mirror, lipstick in hand. My heart is restless. My hands shake. Why do I feel like I’m waiting for an exam result?
When I’m at the event, that’s all I can think of. Will he come? The air is thick with the smell of craft beer, expensive perfume, and the nervousness of a hundred people trying to find love, but all I can think about is him.
Then I dive into the work, managing the check-in desk, coordinating with the bar staff, making sure the playlist is just right, and yet nothing can keep me from stealing glances at the door. Every few minutes it would open and close and it would not be him. I think of dropping him a text, but I don’t want to push my luck here.
And then, it happens.
Raghav arrives an hour later.
He’s wearing a blue polo T-shirt, straight-fit jeans, and he looks clean. Easily the handsomest boy in the room. But he looks terrified, and I don’t blame him. I have been through this and it wrecks you. To reach out for love, when all you had was drained out from you. It takes a toll.
The crowd doesn’t notice him. But to me, it feels like the whole room tilts in his direction.
I watch him from across the room, my heart a nervous drum against my ribs. I start saying a small prayer, hoping he doesn’t turn away and bolt.
I walk over to him, weaving through the laughing, talking crowd. ‘Hey. You came.’
‘I said I would,’ he says, his eyes darting around the room.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ I say, and I mean it.
Then, I take a deep breath. This is it. The real test. The thing I have been meaning to tell him, the thing I should tell him, that I should have the courage to tell him. ‘But if you’re really here, Raghav... if you’re really trying...’
The words choke me. My tongue feels heavy. I almost stop.
I can’t bring myself to say it. Should I spoil everything the day it’s gotten better? But what would anything mean if I don’t say this? Friends should be able to say the tough things. Things that no one else would say.
‘I know what’s coming,’ he says, his voice quivering.
‘... there’s one more thing you have to do... you need to delete it.’
