With Mangoes And Chocolates | ✓

28. Not a Mess.

Bhavuk had always thought it would be fun living alone. Having a place where no one disturbed him constantly, no voices, no distractions. He could swear that he had successfully deluded himself into believing that he could easily stay in a remote area with a Wi-Fi and food (optional).

He was so wrong.

He missed his parents, especially his mother. Nihaara. He missed the overall Indian-y vibe. He missed the goddamn food.

He looked sideways at the window, at the sinking sun. England might be cool, but not so much.

Vibrations from his phone made him turn back. He picked it up to check. It was the same unknown contact that he was receiving calls from, since last two days. He chose to ignore it a few times, even declined it, but now he'd begun to feel that it was something important.

"Yes?" He let out, feeling weirded out by his own voice. On weekends, he didn't speak for hours. He didn't have to.

"I never thought you'd pick up," a girl sighed from the other end, a bit out of breath. "Bhavuk, you've been too much busy being an overachiever."

It felt like he'd heard her before, somewhere. Then again, he'd heard a lot of girls. It wasn't Manasvi, and that was all that mattered. "That's right. But you're?"

"Don't know me? Nitya, who else?"

He knew the name. . .he knew. . .

"You're. . .oh, I know you," he replied, thinking a little harder. "Nitya Arora. Kartik's girl."
She giggled. "I was his girl. Not now. Does he have one these days?"

"No," he answered. "I don't think so. Though, I'm not certain."
"It's okay. I won't take much of your time. I just. . .I found you on social. And I know you're close to him. All I want from you. . .could you help me reach him?"

"Why don't you contact him yourself?" His question, he thought, was valid.
"Doesn't answer," she rushed out, "never answers."

She continued to add. "I know I left him after giving him false hopes. But Kartik. . .he never complained. He never blamed me, no matter how much he disagreed with me. He was their at my worst," she took a pause. "He used to stay all night at hospital with me, Bhavuk. Awake. Ready. He cared for me, for my family. . .and I couldn't even thank. . ."

She hiccuped and then began to sniffle. For him, nothing felt as uneasy as a girl crying in his presence. No matter what he thought of her, loved her or hated her, a girl crying was still his weak point.
"I'll do something, I'll talk to him. . .stop crying," he managed to say, not knowing how to console.

"I don't know if he'd want me back. He might've moved on, I haven't. It took me years to pick myself up. But when I did. . .he was long gone. All I need is one call with him, Bhavuk. To explain."

"It's okay. I'll see. Of course I can convince him for a call, Nitya. It's okay. Cheer up."
"Yeah sorry," she breathed out. "You're nice person. I thought you had a superiority complex."

He could've laughed, but he only smiled. "Should I be sorry for not living up to your expectations?"
"No," she chuckled dryly. "Your break up with Manasvi Mehta was pretty tragic. I wasn't in my senses back then to have a word with you. . .but, didn't you try searching for her after?"

"Not yet. Waiting for the right time."
"Who knows about right timing more than me," she mumbled, much to herself. "But why?"

"She told me not to," the reason was simple. "I mean, she purposely left me so that I could grow into someone better. Someone I wanted to be. And it takes time. Sooner or late, I'll find her. How hard is it to find a girl, anyway? We had mutuals," he shrugged, eyeing outside the window. The Sun had gone down. "Talk to you later, Nitya. I'll see what I can do."