Kaavi managed a small, tired smile. ‘Three words but it feels like a loaded question.’
She stared out the window for a moment. ‘Neel, I don’t know how I am. I mean, look at us. We’re driving to Durban for burgers and my father just died a few days ago. Are we allowedto do that? Should we be doing that? I feel conflicted. Should I be with my mother instead? Should I be on Sen’s couch, crying into a pillow?
‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what people expect from me. I’ve tried, Neel. I’ve tried figuring it out. I’ve searched the blogs, looked for books and even called my therapist. And none of it tells me what to do with this feeling. Is this even grief? Is this what grief is supposed to feel like? Or am I just numb?’
Then she faced him fully. ‘Tell me what you think, Neel. I actually want to know. Honestly.’
He didn’t take his eyes off the road but spoke firmly, so she listened carefully.
‘I think everybody grieves in their own way. There’s no formula, no checklist. But I think, in your case, it’s harder because you’re not sad that he’s gone and that’s okay. It really is. You don’t have to pretend. No one’s going to judge you for saying you’re not sad your father died.’
He paused, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter before adding, ‘But I think forgiveness should be a part of your healing process.’
‘Forgiveness. There’s that word again. If I knew how to forgive my father, don’t you think I’d have done it already? Everyone says it’s holding me back. That I need to let go. But what does that mean? What am I supposed to do? Light a candle? Write a letter? Shout it out? I’m angry. I’ve been angry for so long. And even my therapist doesn’t know how to help me move past it.’
She looked at Neel. ‘Am I just supposed to say it out loud? “I forgive you” and then suddenly I’m free? Is that how it works? Because if it is, I’ll try it. But I don’t know how to mean it.’
She turned back to face the window. ‘I don’t know how to stop being angry at someone who never gave me the space to be anything else.’
‘What if you didn’t forgive him? What if you just lived your best life instead? Maybe that’s your revenge. Not the anger. Not the pain. Just you being free. Being happy. I know it’s a long shot, but honestly, I can’t think of anything else that makes more sense.’
Kaavi leaned back in her seat and smiled, the first real one in days.
‘Neel, for someone who spent most of our relationship trying to talk me out of my clothes, you’ve really got this therapist thing down.’
‘Oh, Kaavi,’ Neel said, half-smiling, ‘I’m still going to try and talk you out of your clothes every chance I get. But I’m also going to listen and give you advice and be there for you.’
Kaavi didn’t respond.
He didn’t say anything more after that. He just kept driving, hands steady on the wheel, eyes ahead.
Because the truth was, he was making promises neither of them knew how to keep.
What relationship? There wasn’t a label, not anymore. Just history and hope hanging between them. Each one waiting for the other to speak first. She thought the ball was in his court. He thought it was in hers.
Kaavi held a scoop of flour, poised over the mixing bowl, when her mother’s voice came sharply through the speaker: ‘Stop! You have to use the sieve.’
The phone was propped against the air fryer, camera tilted just enough to catch the counter. Her mom was on a video call, guiding her step by step through her chocolate cake recipe.
‘Does it really matter?’ Kaavi asked, eyeing the sieve with mild annoyance.
‘Of course it matters, Kaavi. That’s how the cake comes out light with no lumps. Baking’s not just throwing things together. It’s patience.’
Kaavi muttered something under her breath but did what her mother said, sifting the flour into the bowl.
‘Is Neel around?’ her mother asked.
‘Nope,’ Kaavi replied.
‘What do you mean? Does he work in an office in Rally or… I’m so confused by you two. In the first place, what are you even doing back in Rally, Kaavi?’
Kaavi kept working, adding ingredients and stirring the batter slowly.
‘I don’t know, Mom. Neel hasn’t asked me to go back to Johannesburg. He says he’s staying in Rally for the month and he hasn’t said anything about whether I should return with him or not. But now that I think about it, maybe he’s just waiting for me to sign the divorce papers.’
‘Divorce papers? What divorce papers? You never said anything about divorce papers,’ her mother’s voice shot through the phone.
‘Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Neel was really in Rally to hand over divorce papers.’
