It rained heavily that day. First rain of monsoon. She always used to say that people who stick with her for two monsoons stick with her for life. It would have been my third this time. Guess I proved her theory wrong. My head was aching and sleep had abandoned me. If I hadn’t promised her to never drink again, I would be pouring myself my roommates scotch, and forcing myself to sleep. Deafening thunder and lustrous lightening were keeping me company at midnight while I was trying to think of all possible ways I could make this work. It was really hard. I can never think alone. I need someone to talk to. Else I’m stuck even before I begin. Irony is, when she was around, ideas would explode my mind. Now who was I supposed to talk to? Mr. Thunder & Ms. Lightning?
Ours was a typical office love story. We met each other in our office, started sharing our work, our lunch & our feelings. She had just been through a bad breakup. I was an introvert who found her comforting. Moreover I loved the attention. So it was bound to happen. Few months later we were walking down the beach, listening to music and thinking what we should name our daughter. We decided on Pari. So that I’d have two angels in my life. Her, and our daughter.
She was my first serious relationship, first kiss, and a lot more of firsts. I had been in one highschool relationship which was more like crush gone crazy. And based on what she said, all her boyfriends were teenagers trapped in an adult’s body. So she had to dump them. Made sense. Now she was dumping me. I should have sensed the pattern. But I was nowhere near giving up. I wanted to convince her that people still make it work after an affair. “It only works in movies, dumbo” I heard her say. I was probably hallucinating. I mean I was sleep deprived and it felt like someone had set my eyes on fire.
I would tell more about how nice it was if I was not fixated on our breakup. You really start enjoying life once you find someone. Everything is brighter, more colorful, more beautiful, but all such memories I have with her are now tainted. Last few months of awkwardness is all I remember correctly.
For more than 2 years, we talked, argued, fought, apologised and made up. I wanted to change that. Somewhere before 5 months, I decided I’m going to be a better person. I stopped taking offense to anything she said, stopped saying anything that offended her, oh and as I mentioned I gave up drinking. I wanted to be a better person for her and I tried really hard to do it. Of course it meant not talking to her sometimes even if I wanted to, or abruptly stopping a conversation. But after a few weird conversations, I realised I was generally more happier than I was before. It was working. At least that’s what I thought.
“We are all going to die someday… Aren’t we? I feel like I have not loved you enough sweetie… Like if I were to die, I wouldn’t be content. So how about we love like we have just this one day to live?” She said one day. How do you get from that to an affair and break-up within 3 months? If anything she said was ever true, she would have given us a second chance.
I remember the last sensible conversation we had. I asked her why did she like me even when I was not talking to her like a sane person would. And she said that she realised that I really cared for her. That I would love her unconditionally and never leave her and that I was the best guy she could ever get. I was speechless. She trusted me too much. I felt really small and benign when she asked me why I loved her so much when she did not make me as happy as I made her. I had no answer. She did make me happy. But I could never show my happiness. I wanted to tell her that she made me the happiest. For some reason I didn’t.
I got busy with work in office. I was being promoted and I was representing our business in various meetings. So almost before two months I had to go to a business meeting for more than a month. I tried to talk to her as much as I could. But then most of our conversations were abruptly cut short by the alarm system in my mind which tracked potential offensive topics. So our conversations decreased as space between us increased, because I could not afford any sourness between us. I could only convince her face to face. So I stuck to just good morning and good night messages. Sometimes she would reply. Sometimes she wouldn’t. And when she wouldn’t I would think that she was busy and read her old message which said “You are the first person I think about when I wake up. The last person before I go to sleep. Frankly, all I do is think about you – the hero of my life!” That would always make me feel better.
Read my science fiction short story – 7th dimension
So one such day when I was getting restless for not getting her messages, she sent me a long email. Actually my unborn daughter wrote me an email from her address. It read
“Baby pari bear writes, Dear papa bear , it’s been sho long..mama bear says daddy is working sho hard.. pleej spend time with me and mama bear whenever you are free.. mama bear and I mish you shoo much.. mama bear wuvs you..
With tons of love
Pari bear“
I missed her too. Too much actually. I couldn’t wait to get back to meet her. But there was still more than two weeks to go. I was miserable. But stupid me, didn’t even reply to her mail. I have no idea why. If only I had a time-machine.
When I came back, we did not talk. In a few moments we would face each other in our office, it was just awkward silence. There was something wrong. I could see it in her eyes. I could not gather even a pinch of courage to confront her. After a week of walking behind her, I got her to talk.
“I cannot do this anymore.” She said.
She did not give me any reasons why. I begged her, got on my knees, and almost cried when she said, “I like someone else”. For some reason all I could hear was my unborn daughter crying. Was she having an affair? I was in denial. I asked her to tell me that it was a joke. She was stern.
When I think of it now, I shouldn’t have left her alone without any sort of communication. She has never been single for more than a month in her life. She feels the need to be loved, and I, with nothing but my own stupidity to blame, couldn’t give it to her.
I asked who it was. It was a fatso from the office. I worked out everyday to look good for her while she likes a fatso. Great! I was definitely good looking than him. Or probably not, I am really biased. I told her that it was probably an momentary infatuation. That she could forget it and we could still make it work.
Then she said that she wrote a letter to him and confessed. Almost instantly and involuntarily, my hand landed on her right cheek at a pace I never had witnessed. Tears rolled down her eyes as she walked away from me screaming, “he did not accept me”.
That was the moment I realised. I’m probably never getting her back. But I’m someone who lives in constant hope. I was still thinking of a way to convince her. To somehow make this work. My whole world imploded. My heart felt so heavy. I walked home. Oh, and did I mention that it rained? The skies and my eyes… Both rained heavily that day…
If you liked that story, check out my suspense short story Unpleasant surprises
Communication in the right amount is necessary. Too little hurts. Too much also hurts.
Good story!
Exactly! There should be a perfect balance for relationship to survive..
Thanks!
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