RAABTA

(3)

The suitcase containing nearly everything I need to live stands mightily in the corner, waiting, mercilessly watching my undoing. I hover over my best friend's door—the door which was shut on my face exactly two minutes ago in complete and utter fury.

The reality of abiding in a one-sided, unrequited love is that you always know that your heart, your feelings, are safe only when they are hidden. Once they are spit out, vulnerable and out in the open, you will have nothing but the slap of rejection; whose echoes shake the deepest core of your existence.

In this land where I was born, loved beyond any measure, and breathing in the moment, I only have a few more hours until I leave, until my flight takes off and takes me far far away. A new country, perhaps, a new life which I never wanted to dream of, awaits me. To live a reality in which I won't get to spend each second of my life with the love of my life. I will be leaving with nearly everything I need to live, but not completely everything. Because what completed me would be here, on the other side of the door currently.

To top it all, I made the stupidest mistake of proposing my love on a silver platter only to be trampled upon. For starters, I don't care. All I want now is to reverse the clock, go back to where me and Kinza where. Best friends and care-free.

Her mother shakes her head in sympathy, patting my shoulders, "She is upset."

I turn my gaze away from her, biting back my lip and terribly failing to control the water pooling in my eyes and leaking at the corners. "And I am leaving."

"I know! I am sorry." In other words, she- will-probably-get-over-it-and-you-would-have-been-gone-for-good.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat as Aunty walks away, probably to pack me parathas to devour on my way.

"Kinza!" My voice breaks, my hands desperately knock on her door. "Don't do this, " I really want to see your face before I go. I stop myself from expressing those words, mainly to avoid putting more fuel to the fire. "Please open the door, for…for us."

I knew she would be mad, but shutting me out completely wasn't what I had imagined her response to be.

Hurt coiled, rejection seeped through my veins and before I knew it, a spark of anguish started brimming in the pit of my stomach.

"Am I so despicable that you don't want to see me, even when I stand on the verge of going away?"

I cannot, for my life, put forth the heaviness those words put on my chest as they leave, each syllable of which causing the organ in the middle of my ribcage to tear apart. They say broken is beautiful, but the pain of breaking is the worst.

My eyes are red rimmed and my heart beats chaotic.

The silence in the hallway—the silence that stretches through each flicker of the clock as the door remains closed, makes me want to rip my hair out.

My rage is taking over me, completely.

"Kinza?" The fury in my voice bewilders me, "Won't you…aren’t you gonna miss me?"

"Do you not like me? At all?" I stomp my foot on the wooden frame of the door, "Just open the damn door, dammit."

Just as I shake with emotions all over the place, a very sincere plea leaves my lips, "Please."

And then it happens, the very cracking of nails whenever her room door opens, the annoying sound of which I always complain for her to put some oil on, in order not to get caught when we both have mid-night crisis for ice creams.

It is rather slow, as if the opposite person is not sure why they are opening the door to their foe yet the love they have in their hearts overpower their rational thinking.

She is a hot mess, I can sense, and also, I can see fumes of anger scavenging through her ears, but I don't care. The desperate need to have a glimpse of her takes over my irrational thoughts, and without even giving a thought, I jump over and take her in my arms.

"Oh! Oh!" Kinza winces in surprise at my action,"Do you plan to knock air out of my lungs and kill me?"

Her question brings a low chuckle of relief to dust over my tribulations and lightens the burden on my chest.

Kinza glares at me when I remove my arms from gripping her. "Hamne do din kya baath nai ki, tum desh chodne nikle. Will you die if I cut ties with you?"

"Without a doubt," I sniffled and it only worsened her scowl.

"Then why were you in such a hurry to leave me. Revenge ley rahe they?"

"Kinza," I deadpan and wipe my sweaty eyes,"I thought you would like me gone."

"Me? You think I want you gone?" Her face was a mix of confused and angry. "Don't you know me after all this while? Would I, of all people, want you away from me?"

I stared at her, wanting to remind her of her words from only a couple of days ago.

"You are angry at me," I finally say.

She rolls her eyes, as if that's obvious. "Haan, because you're leaving me to go so far away."

Then lethally, a painstaking silence crept between us, making me wonder in awkwardness that when did we shut our mouths while being with each other? Never.

The thought brought itself with a lot of remorse. I shouldn't have opened up my heart to her. She was happy in ignorance.

"What…what are you wondering?" Kinza touched my elbow.

I looked her in the eyes, "Kinza..," I didn't mean for my feelings to pour out while just saying her name, but it sounded so heavy, so full of emotions—love if she understood its meaning.

"Stop-" She mouthed, making my mouth hang open, leaving all of my next words hanging in the air.

The next moment she clasped my hand. It was gentle, but the sudden action took me by surprise, making my heart leap in my chest, halting it. If Kinza knew the shock of her touch through my eyes, she didn't show; rather she dragged me towards the railing of the balcony where we always sat to talk about all nonsense, the very same one that overlooked the ocean.

Something that never transpired between us was happening, and I for one wouldn't stop it. The tranquil silence surrounding us was full of answers, full of unsaid words. When did our friendship become more? When had she started to reciprocate my feelings? When did blatant rejection become an acceptance?

Kinza had held on to me, hooking her hands with mine, cutting my thoughts short. Her head leaned on my shoulder, filling me with warmth and contentment. With her next to me, I wasn't going anywhere.