Page 74 of Red Flags and Rishtas
I got stuck in traffic on my way back home. Hundreds of cars were lined up behind each other as a result of an accident on the Sarai Kale Khan flyover. As I sat in the backseat of my cab, unmoving and silent, the ball of anxiety in my stomach began to get bigger and louder. I fiddled with my phone, trying to tell myself it was in my best interest to keep it switched off. I didn’t want to lose hope of the possibility that people were trying to get in touch with me. I didn’t want to find out that nobody cared about me at all.
The unending honking from the car on my left attracted my attention. I immediately recognised the person behind the wheel – it was Saurav. My first instinct was to duck, assuming that Vrinda was in the car with him. But on second glance, I noticed that the woman in the passenger seat was not my friend. She had a light fringe that covered her forehead and a square, unsmiling jaw. She spotted me looking at her and said something to Saurav, pointing in my direction. He turned to look at me and nodded briefly in recognition. I was rolling down my window to talk to him when the car in front of him moved, and he sped up without a goodbye. I could still see his black Jeep Compass, but it was too far away for me to observe or make any attempts at conversation.
Dissatisfied with the interaction, I slid to the other side of the seat and looked out of the window. I was hoping this chance encounter with V’s boyfriend would give me some insight into how she was doing … and if she wanted to talk to me. But the Universe, as always, was not on my side.
If we don’t move an inch for the next thirty seconds, I’ll switch my phone on,I struck a deal with myself. I proceeded to maintain a mental count as my driver honked loudly to verbalise my impatience. Finally, after waiting longer than I’d planned, I held down the power button. The screen lit up as a series of animations danced in front of my eyes. The wallpaper, a selfie of V and I sticking our tongues out at the camera, seemed to mock me. I waited for the notifications to hit me.
Nothing.
Apart from a few messages from Pooja, Ryan and a school WhatsApp group I never participated in, there was no word from anyone. A sinking feeling gripped me and I had to hug my chest tightly to keep myself from falling apart.
I’d quit my job on a whim. My best friend wanted nothing to do with me. I’d lost a bet I’d gambled my friendship, love life and even my career on, and I couldn’t get the guy I’d lost to out of my head. Every time I let my guard down, I found myself getting transported to that night in the parking lot. If being with him had been such a terrible, stinking mistake, why couldn’t I get myself to regret it?
The peculiar ache I felt in my gut was not an entirely new feeling. I knew I’d felt it before. I opened Instagram and began typing out my ex’s name.
And there he was. He smiled back at me, flashing his flawless teeth. He had his arm around a girl – @juliette298. This was what I’d been shielding myself from ever since I’d had my heart broken in Bangalore, when I’d discovered that the man in the photo had been cheating on me.
I stared at the photo, waiting for the familiar pain I felt every time I thought about him and what could’ve been. A few moments passed, and nothing shifted. I pinched the screen to zoom into his face. Still nothing – no stinging sensation, nonausea, absolutely nothing. It was almost like I was staring at a stranger’s face.
I looked up from the screen, bewildered. He was the only man I’d ever loved. Even though I was over him, he had always held a part of my heart captive. It didn’t matter if I no longer envisioned a life with him. I had long accepted that seeing him with someone else would forever be a painful sight. So then why was my brain so indifferent and my heart so unbothered?
A giggle bubbled out of me, followed by a whimper. The cab driver glanced at me curiously from the rear-view mirror.
The realisation hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was in love with someone else. And he was getting married. To someone else.
18
He Loves Me Knot
Ispent the nextfive days trying to obliterate the ridiculous notion that I had fallen for Aadar Chauhan. But the more I fought to deny the idea, the closer to the truth it began to seem. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the same man I’d considered my nemesis a few weeks ago was now suddenly the most important person in my life. I used to detest having to interact with him, and now I stared at my phone for hours, willing him to text me. But he never did. I hadn’t heard a peep out of him after that hasty phone call when he’d told me about his engagement. I opened his Instagram profile every day, hoping to get a hint of what was going on in his life. But he maintained his social media silence even in the face of his successful love story.
When Saturday rolled around and I still hadn’t managed to dismiss him from my thoughts, I picked up my phone and rang him. He didn’t answer. I tossed my phone on the bed, disheartened. A sane person would’ve taken his silence as a sign of lack of interest, bitterly accepted the rejection and moved on. But it had been a few days since I’d lost my sanity. I desperately needed someone to talk to, a sounding board of sorts. I’d considered dialling V’s number many times in the past week, but my ego hadn’t let me.
Why couldn’tshecall?
And so, in the absence of a rational voice stopping me from making a bigger fool out of myself, I called him again. And again. I left him text after text, hoping he’d respond to at leastone. I even dropped him an email on his official ID. The hours passed, but I didn’t hear back from him. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I couldn’t bear to give up on this without first speaking to him. I just wanted to have a word.
Okay, Iwanteda lot more. But this much, I needed.
So I did the only other thing I could think of. I made a trip to his flat. The bell continued to ring as I waited for someone to open the door. After the fifth ring, I figured it had to be one of two things: a) he knew I was at the door and wanted nothing to do with me, or b) nobody was home.
Think, Annie. Who would know where he is?
That’s when it struck me. I opened my phone book and dialled his brother. The first three times I called, there was no answer. But then he called me back.
‘Ananya? Hi, you called?’ I could barely hear him over the commotion.
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Karan! Thank God! I need to speak to your brother, where is he?’
‘Sorry, what?’ He had to shout to be heard. ‘I can’t hear you properly.’
‘Is. Aadar. With. You?’ I enunciated every word.
‘Um, yes. I’m at his engagement party.’
I zeroed in on the sounds in the background – dhol, DJ, congratulating relatives and laughter.
