“Girl, I think you should ask him,” she says, plopping down on the seat in front of me. She has way too much free time these days. I think I should assign her some more work.
“Usually the men in my life only send me flowers when they mess up,” she says, pointing at me. Honestly, the men in her life are trash. For someone who gives such profound relationship advice, her taste in men is questionable. But she has a knack for looking at the bright side, always finding the good in people. Andwhen you have a heart like that, it becomes extremely difficult to understand who is better for you and who is not.
“Well,” I start. “I don’t think he messed up. I think he is the one who is doing things right currently, and I am the one who keeps messing up.”
She raises an eyebrow, surprised by me taking his side.
“Are you taking his side? Am I dreaming? Are you guys back together? Is this why he keeps sending you flowers?”
She bombards me with questions, and I can literally see the heart eyes she already has going on.
“No, we are not,” I clarify. “But we might. I don’t know; I am not going to say anything for certain.”
Truth be told, I am just too much of a chicken to make anything permanent. Suddenly, I am the guy with commitment issues who keeps giving hints to the woman they are talking to but won’t accept their feelings.
But even if I know we won’t be separating, I still want to test the waters before falling headfirst into this relationship again.
“Don’t you think you are prolonging this way too much now?”
“What do you mean?”
I turn to look at her fully, and I can see that she is not joking right now. She has her poker face on, and that’s the face she usually has when she is sticking to business.
“I mean that maybe you are letting your fears get in your and Reyansh’s way. Do you think he isn’t scared too? I am sure he is. But he is making efforts, but are you?”
She says the same words my mom andMaakeep telling me, but I don’t know how to make them understand how my chest shrinks when I think about the what-ifs. They don’t know how depressing the past few years have been, what they made me and how much effort it took to get to a point where it stoppedaffecting me loudly. I know maybe it is unfair to him, but I can’t shut my mind off too much.
But I am trying. I am trying to let go of all of my fears, even if it is difficult. I don’t know how long it will take me to completely surrender to him, but I can’t rush it.
“Sasha, you know everything about me, about us,” I say, and she nods. She is my only friend here and in general too. I am not in touch with any of my college friends.
“How do I explain it to you? Whenever I try to take a step towards us, there comes a voice in my head that keeps nagging me, saying that this can all go wrong. That this is all temporary. I don’t know how to stop it. I know, maybe it is unfair to him because if he was a bad husband, I was a bad wife too. If he didn’t take steps to fix things, I turned a blind eye too, letting my ego get in the way, thinking, “If he doesn’t care, why should I?”
I huff out a breath, and her eyes soften as she looks at me.
“I am trying to put in efforts. I don’t want to let him go. Not anymore because despite this fear, I know if there’s one person I would risk it all for, it is him.”
“I know, baby,” she says, coming to hug me. While she may not understand my situation completely, she is still supportive. She knows what this man means to me, and despite me yelling on top of my lungs that I want to divorce him, anyone who knows me and us knows that I could never leave him.
The telephone that connects me to the reception rings, and we break apart.
“Madam,” the receptionist says in a bored and tired tone. “There’s another bouquet addressed to you.”
I chuckle. What is he up to?
“Sasha will get it for me.”
Sasha rolls her eyes as I say the words, stomping her way out, making me laugh.
Seriously, what is he up to?
I pick up my phone, which was on silent the entire time, and see that he has texted me more than ten times ever since I came to the office.
I ring him up, and he picks up my phone on the third ring itself.
“Hey, baby,” he says sweetly, making me blush.
“Reyansh, why do you keep sending me flowers?” I ask.
