Page 57 of Not Your Basic Love Story

Which brought me to Dev.

Jagdev. Jagdev Singh.

Rebecca Singh.

What would we name our kids? Carter Singh. Penelope Singh.

Or maybe their names would be completely different from the ones I picked out in third grade.

But our future was up in the air. I’d made myself out to be the enemy, single-handedly driving him away from his family, the businesses they’d expected him to take over, and his responsibilities as a son. On top of that, there was a better, more suitable option for him to marry, someone his mother apparently not only approved of but was actively encouraging him to date.

Even if I was what Dev wanted, maybe he’d make a different choice. Maybe what his parents had said was sticking for him, making him think what we had was only a brief, sexual fireworks show, which would eventually fizzle out and leave him wishing he’d made a different choice—a more responsible choice.

Then, I realized, what Dev wanted was out of my control.

What was itIwanted?

I wanted what Miranda had. A loving husband, a baby on the way. Her whole future was set before her now, everything bright and bubbly and shiny. When we were teenagers, we’d planned on getting married and having babies around the same time so our kids would grow up together,like we did.

Now those plans were out the window.

It was a surreal feeling, being so happy for someone, yet so sad it wasn't happening for me. I tried not to be jealous at first, but then I realized there was no one around to judge and I let the feelings wash over me.

Miranda and her perfect, fairy tale wedding. Her husband with the good job and the good family and their nice house and their new baby on the way and the Pinterest-worthy nursery they were bound to have.

Angelina, her whole life still ahead of her, with so much gusto and confidence about who she was and her place in the world, a stark contrast to my own awkward self.

Even Nicole, with her perfect job, perfect rich boyfriend, perfecteverything.

Ugh.

As I prepared for bed, I glanced around my apartment. It had always been enough for me. But, of course, Dev didn’t want to live here. There wasn’t even room in my closet for me, let alone him! I had been stupid even asking him.

Crawling into bed, I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep with no more tears left to cry.

The following morning I’d woken with just enough time to make the early yoga class, and busted my butt getting out the door and down the street in time to get there.

Somewhere between the third vinyasa flow and warrior three, I had an epiphany.

Never once in my life had I sat around and waited for something to happen. I made plans. I went out, and I took control—always had, always would. Waiting for life to happen wasn’t my style.

Call me a control freak or whatever, life is too short to sit around waiting for other people to make decisions for you.

After class, I didn’t even wait to go home and shower. All fired up from a sweaty flow class, endorphins flooding my body, I called Dev. No time to think. Just Do It. I channelled my inner Nike commercial and dialled.

The phone rang three times, and I was about to give up lest risk going to voicemail when he answered.

“Hey, Rebecca. I was just thinking about you.”

The sound of his voice made my heart sing, only to sink a moment later, remembering my reason for calling. “Hey,” I said, searching for the words I’d planned to say.

Dev filled in the silence. “I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly yesterday. Especially after… you know. It’s been a lot. Can we talk? Not over the phone. In person?”

I nodded, even though I was on the phone. “I was thinking the same. A lot has come to light recently, and I think we need to take a look at our relationship.”

I could almost feel him nodding on the other end of the line, too. “You’re right. Things have been put into perspective. This week is busy for me. Can you wait until next weekend? I want to see you, but with everything going on—”

“That’s fine. I understand. Next weekend works. Gives us both some time to think, to clear our heads.”

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