Gehraiyaan.

Chapter 10

The world was a lighter place to live in, the next morning. The footprints of pain he left behind continued to thud in my heart, but the worries had fled out, and away.

I didn't have to think about what's going on at his home; whether or not, he's convincing his parents. The thought of it awakened a sting in my heart, but it was time for me to quit thinking about us. The idea of us died a few days ago, or perhaps - even before that, but I was blinded with false hope.

I honestly don't know how to forget the memories, unlearn the love and quit the thoughts about him. The mere idea of packing him out of my life pushes me to the brink of tears. But somewhere, I'm relieved because I wouldn't have to wake up with a heart pounding with anxiety and a mind racing with thoughts anymore. I know that every morning, I'll wake up with a scar and I know that it'll hurt every damn day. But here's what I know, too - everything that hurts finds a way to heal. The scar will heal, the heart will find its calm and even though the memories won't ever fade, the pain will.

One day, I'll wake up and everything will be okay. Until then, I'll have to keep fighting, whether I want to or not.

The morning rays fall on my swollen face, forcing me to wake up after an unsettlingly deep slumber.

Ever since the truth unveiled itself, I've been sleeping all day; I barely get out of bed, and talk to anyone at home. I feel as though I've lost the will to do anything at all. I haven't been to work in four days. I hope Kesh is taking control of everything to do with the project because I switched off my phone and I have absolutely no idea what's happening with the outside world. I don't even know what's happening in my own house.

After a break of four days, I turn my phone on, again. Darshan has nothing to do with the hell I'm walking through; he deserves to know that I don't have what it takes to lead a project. That's the least I could tell him.

A waterfall of notifications flow on my lock-screen, seconds after turning on my phone. Darshan. Kesha. Ten other colleagues from work. Dad. The amount of messages is simply overwhelming.

Amidst the crammed messages, an e-mail stands out, grasping my attention. An e-mail from advik.sh23@gmail.com. Sent three days ago. 

A turmoil of emotions uncoil within me, as I open it. I honestly feel sick in my stomach, right now. Why can't he just walk away, without a sound, after creating all that drama in my life? Why does he have to keep coming back?

Attached in the mail is an audio. Once I download, I plug into my earphones and grasp my phone between my hands, tightly. I promise myself not to cry over it, no matter what. I've had enough of staying in bed and crying over him. Even though I feel as though I don't have a life to live, I have a family to feed and I'll have to walk through the storm, no matter how strong it is.

Hey, Navya - his voice breathes into my ear, through the earphones; so familiar, yet so distant.

Advik pauses, but I can hear him breathe - shakily and audibly. He does that whenever he's stressed, or nervous. For a person who's no longer a part of my life, I know him too well.

Ro told me that you called him. You deserve an answer.

I don't know what you're going through at the moment. I can only imagine what I've put you through and I know that an apology won't fix anything for the destruction in your life.

Navya...Navya, sometimes people do what they do, because they don't have a choice. I know what you're thinking - leaving you behind and betraying you was a choice I made. Listen to me for 5 minutes, without keeping this aside. Please. Listen to me one last time.