When I set the coffee mug aside, the silence between me and Gaurav grew heavier. He sat across from me, telling me he was going back to Canada. I didn't have the courage to ask when he would return, but his eyes already gave me the answer—he had no plans of coming back. And why would he? What reason did he have?
Seeing him with Tej earlier had both shocked and surprised me. Tej admitted he already knew Gaurav, but in his eyes, I caught something hidden—something he didn't want me to see. Or maybe something I didn't want to know.
"Okay, time to say goodbye, Miss Aria," Gaurav said with a wide, fake smile, blinking as though to hide the sadness in his tone. I nodded silently. He stood, glanced up at the clear sky, and without looking back at me whispered, "I hope you gain what you love the most."
It sounded less like a farewell and more like a blessing—something that came from somewhere deeper than words. We didn't know much about each other's lives, yet like all humans, we carried our own wishes, our own tangled struggles. He waved one last time before stepping into the car, wishing me luck—or maybe wishing himself closure.
From the first time we met to this final goodbye, every moment became a memory. We both knew we would never meet again. The friendship we built would remain, but only from afar. No phone calls, no messages, nothing. Gaurav knew there was already someone in my heart, and I knew he had feelings for me. That was enough for him to let go—without asking, without demanding—because he didn't need to.
I know the time we spent together was very short, but at least in those moments I lived fully, without hesitation. I learned many things from Gaurav—the way he talks, how he speaks exactly what he thinks, how he never hesitates before saying something. I didn't just learn these things; I started applying them in my own life also.
When I walked back home, I didn't have the courage to enter that lonely, silent apartment. Ever since Tej left, the place has felt heavier, as if the air itself had become thick. His presence always made the atmosphere lighter. Was it really his positive aura? Or just my assumption? Or is it because I like him? Because when he's gone, I feel empty inside. Is this just my attachment to Tej? But then why only Tej? Why don't I feel the same heaviness when Gaurav leaves? Does Tej matter more than Gaurav? What is it about him? Why is he always trapped in my mind? Why can't I think about anything else? Why does he wander through my days?
I thought when I reached the city, I would forget him. I thought I could forgive him for how he hurt me with his last actions. I thought I could move past the train incident, the unnecessary crying. But he never left my mind—not even once. I have been fighting with myself again and again, trying to forgive him, but nothing works. The more I try to stay away from him, the more he finds a way into my thoughts.
"Is it love?" No, no… it can't be. It can't be. I kept repeating this to myself. "Love hurts a lot." I know this very well after Abhay (my ex-boyfriend) cheated on me. Gaurav seems different—different from all the men in the world. "It's a brain game," I told myself. "The brain tricks us every time." I sighed.
I sat in the same park where Tej and I had met three days ago, when the weather was bad and the clouds were raining hard, as if someone broken was crying and wetting the whole city with his tears. In that rain, Tej had come to me, and I had taken him home. I had no other choice. I recalled everything that happened between us in those three days—how he spent time in my home in silence. I thought more than once about asking him the real reason he came to me, but then I remembered a quote I'd read somewhere: "If a person comes to you, give him all he needs. Don't ask anything—just give." I knew the quote didn't really fit, but I used it anyway.
Tomorrow I will go to my hometown to celebrate my parents' marriage anniversary. Mother was calling me often " When will you come mimi, when will you come" i replied to her soon to be. They're like young couples even after 27 years of marriage—they still love each other the same as they did before. "The older generation is really much better than us. They keep their promises until death," I thought. "Better than those who cheat and leave the other one to suffer and doubt themselves."
I don't know why I keep remembering Abhay now, after all the brutal things he did to me. He was my first love—or at least the first person I dated. The first person I shared my private thoughts with—thoughts I never dared to share with anyone else. Even my family was not connected to me the way he was. There had been someone to listen to me, but now I'm all alone. Life feels heavier, more burdensome after he left.
When Tej rejected me (without words, just through his actions), I broke. I broke wondering, "What if no one ever loves me? What if I'm not attractive to anyone? What if I end up alone?"
Being alone is a cursed thing God made in the universe. I feel it every single day of my life. Suffocatingly deepresing it is.
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