Do We Let Go?

48| Melancholy

you're everywhere except right here and it hurts

- Rupi Kaur

She didn't call.

Not once.

He always called. She always ended them.

It's been a couple of weeks now. He missed her terribly.

The first few days didn't really hit him. He did his chores monotonously, kind of numb to it. All in one day, he'd lost Zara, their baby and his respect in himself.

The loneliness was unfathomable.

The last week, it had gotten so much that he only went home to sleep. He would eat out at any restaurant, go walk around in parks or take out a book to read until exhaustion would kick in and all he'd have to do is go home and sleep.

He'd wake up, go to work, rinse and repeat.

Today as well, he sat in a park bench, a half-eaten sandwich next to him. That was his dinner. And he'd had little to nothing for lunch. His eyes refused to focus. Yet he forced himself to read the book.

Looking for Alaska.

Zara's favourite.

He'd read it around ten times by now. He knew what line came next and he lived to read it.

It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?

How do you get out?

He teared up.

He placed his fingers over his eyes, shutting the book close.

Sniffling, he got up and walked over to the subway station. After the accident, he hated driving. Every right turn reminded him of the car he didn't see coming.

Every red light mocked him.

He just wished he'd get all the broken bones and trauma memories if it meant Zara would've made it unscathed that night.

There was blood. Oh god...there was so much blood. They had to cut her open. Because he drove recklessly.

He was too proud to admit that perhaps he shouldn't drive and let Mira do it instead.

And look where it got them.

Zara's right arm was fractured. She had a long line of stitches and a longer, more painful recovery after giving birth because of him.

He'd scared everyone to death.

Poor Andrea. She still has a thick later of bandage over her temple.

How will Zara ever look at him the same way again? He bet all she sees when she looks at herself is the mess he created for her.

He bet she'd curse him every time her eyes would fall on Andrea's scar.

He is the reason she had panic attacks on the way to Rehaan's. She couldn't handle getting into a car this soon.

Lost in the guilt, he somehow made it home. Standing in front of the building, he angled his neck to look up at his window on the third floor and he saw him and Zara laughing on the balcony on a chilly evening. Her sipping on her coffee as he brought a blanket and wrapped it around her and himself, bringing them closer together.