Forget-Me-Not: Taste of Freedom

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Three

Her life was officially screwed up.

Dia awoke with a pulsing pain in her skull, and a disgusting taste in her mouth. She must have puked last night... she must have. Her whole body felt like a collection of prefabricated organs bolted together for a clumsy finish. Despite lying on a soft, comfortable bed, she still felt like she was on wooden boards. Her eyes took in the surroundings—clean room, clean bed, clean clothes. No unpacked bags. No random clothes strewn about on the backs of chairs and on table tops. Had Geet cleaned up? She sat up in bed, then immediately regretted it. The sharp zip of pain had her moaning and clutching her head in despair. It seemed like last night's extreme measures had not turned out too well for this morning.

How could I have gotten so carried away by my misery?

She wondered where her friends were, and whether last night had been as bad for them as for her. "Geet?" she called out, although she was sure her voice didn't even reach the window on the other side of the room. Dia stumbled slightly, getting onto her feet, and was about to go out when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her brows furrowed in elusive concentration. After long moments of peering at herself, she gasped. She wasn't wearing her own clothes. They were definitely a man's clothes... Varun's clothes.

Suddenly, a whirlwind of thoughts and questions ambushed her. Why was she in Varun's clothes? Had he brought her to her room last night? Had they talked? Had she said something stupid in her drunken state? But on closer inspection, Dia realized that she was not in her own room either—she was in his room.

Oh no, she thought to herself.

Then something made her turn around—voices coming from outside, in the living room. They had been almost non-existent, but now she could distinctly hear the argument. She tip-toed out of the room, gathering the loose shirt closer around herself, and peeked out from the door.

Varun and Anokhi appeared, arguing about something. It didn't take her long to realize what that something was. Her expression drew into a grimace. She wanted to go out there and confront them, but she was in no state to exert herself further. For one, she still stank. And besides, she didn't want to get sick again, not after last night.

"She obviously doesn't care very much about you!" Anokhi was saying. "Varun, when we talked, I thought you were happy with your married life."

Varun's face was drawn, expressionless. "I am."

"That's a load of bullshit. I saw her yesterday, heard her when she was talking to you. She's not your type at all."

The words stung her like nothing ever had. Dia could have tolerated her parents saying something like that about her. But a complete stranger? Her hands clenched into fists. How dared Anokhi tell Varun whether she was his type or not?

"I know her better than you do. Don't get me wrong, but your involvement in this situation is only going to make it worse," Varun said.

"I care about you, Varun. I want to see you happy. What happened in the past was something we couldn't prevent. But... you don't have to punish yourself for that by... by being in a relationship that you don't want."

"What?" he sounded so stunned, that for a moment, Dia couldn't make out whether he was angry or just taken in by the truth. She felt her whole body go tense... somewhere, her mind was rattling out the future. After this, he was probably going to see the light and realize that they could never work out. The thought made her sick.