Of course they will say that they will still come, but will they come? No, they won’t. And after a while, I won’t expect them to come.
That’s how friendship dies. Not in a fight. Not in a bang. But in a slow silence. In a slow forgetting. In a slow stopping of visits. And I know. I know this is the last night. I know it. But then, do I even want this? Everyone forgets everyone. Eventually.
The party continues, but the energy has shifted. The easy laughter is replaced by a more subdued, nostalgic tone. But as the night winds down, everyone gets a bit tired. They want to leave, and who am I to stop them?
Tejal and Sumrit give me long, meaningful looks as they go.
You will be okay, their eyes say. But they don’t know. They will never know. They will go home and sleep. I will sit here and count the cracks in the wall till morning.
Kunal shakes my hand, his grip firm, his expression unreadable. ‘Take care of yourself, man,’ he says.
I know his tone. He’s telling me that it’s finally time to get my shit together. I shake his hand with the same intensity.
And then they’re gone.
It’s just us. Aditi and I.
Alone in the room with the boxes and the ghosts.
The silence is not silence any more. It is a body. It is breathing with us. It is heavy on my shoulders. It sits between us on the sofa. It crawls into my ears.
I can hear the hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of traffic on the main road. I watch her as she starts to gather the empty glasses, her movements small and slow.
I know this is the last time I will watch her do something as simple as picking up a glass in this house. Tomorrow she will pick up glasses somewhere else. In someone else’s house. Not mine. Not ours.
‘Don’t go,’ I say, the words so quiet they’re barely a whisper.
She stops, her back to me. ‘What?’ she asks.
‘Don’t go,’ I repeat, my voice breaking.
The words are too small. The words are nothing. But they are all I have. So I throw them out, again and again, hoping they will grow. Hoping they will be enough.
I cross the room in three long strides, and then I’m standing in front of her.
‘I can’t . . . I can’t do it.’
‘Do what?’ she asks, the useless question that she knows is useless because she has tears in her eyes too.
The tears stream down my face. I haven’t cried like this since the day it happened.
‘I’m so jealous of him,’ the words bubble out, and I gesture to the door Kunal just walked out of. ‘Of Kunal. I hate him because he gets to have this.’
I laugh, but it is a broken laugh. It sounds like choking. It sounds like drowning. Because even I know how stupid it is. But knowing it is stupid does not kill the pain. The pain stays.
‘What do you mean, Raghav?’ she whispers.
‘The easy laughter. The future. Your future. I got the broken you and now that you’re healed, he gets to have you while I’m here... alone... and it’s fucking scary, Aditi. I can’t live like this, here. Alone, with all the memories.’
I gesture wildly at the empty room, at the ghosts and the memories that haunt it.
‘I deleted her,’ I whisper. The pain tears through me. ‘I deleted her, and there’s nothing left. Just this... this giant, empty space. And if you go, I... I don’t know what I’ll do.’
The silence after this is like thunder. It crashes on me. It crushes me. My knees shake. My lips shake. I want to take the words back. But I can’t. They are out. They are in the room now. They are alive now. Unlike the others, my words will always be alive.
I take a breath, my eyes locking on to hers. And then I say the words that shatter the last of my defences.
‘I’m in love with you,’ I say. ‘I know it’s insane. I know it’s fucked up. But it’s the truth. I’m in love with you. Please. Please don’t go.’
