OPPOSITES: S.GILL

17

A few weeks later, I found myself standing backstage, heart pounding with nervous excitement as I prepared to take the stage for a solo dance performance. The dim lights and hushed whispers of the audience only heightened my anticipation as I mentally rehearsed each step and movement with precision.

As the music began to swell, I stepped out onto the stage, allowing the rhythm to guide my body in a graceful dance that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. With each fluid movement, I poured my heart and soul into the performance, lost in the euphoria of the moment.

Unbeknownst to me, Shubman sat among the audience, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. Beside him, Riya watched with a mixture of curiosity and unease, her gaze flickering between Shubman and the stage with growing apprehension.

As the performance reached its crescendo, I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my veins, propelling me forward with renewed energy and passion. As the final music notes faded into silence, I bowed to the audience's thunderous applause, a sense of exhilaration coursing through me like wildfire.

Backstage, Shubman approached me with a smile that reached his eyes, his admiration evident in every word he spoke. "That was incredible, Ilaya. You're truly a force to be reckoned with."

I couldn't help but blush at his praise, feeling a warmth spread through me at his genuine appreciation. "Thank you, Shubman. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

But as I turned to acknowledge Riya, I couldn't help but notice the tension that had settled between us like a thick fog. Her smile was strained, her eyes betraying a hint of jealousy that sent a pang of guilt coursing through me.

"Hi, Riya," I greeted, trying to ease the tension with a friendly smile.

Riya's response was curt, her gaze flickering between Shubman and me with thinly veiled suspicion. "Nice performance," she muttered, though her tone lacked any genuine warmth.

The atmosphere grew increasingly awkward, the tension palpable as we exchanged polite but strained pleasantries. As Shubman attempted to diffuse the situation with light-hearted banter, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for unwittingly becoming the source of friction between them.

As the evening drew to a close, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within me-a nagging sense of guilt that gnawed at my conscience. And as I bid farewell to Shubman and Riya, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us all-a future fraught with uncertainty and the looming specter of jealousy that threatened to tear us apart.

************

As we exited the venue, the tension between Shubman and Riya hung heavy in the air, like a storm brewing on the horizon. Riya's gaze bore into me with a mixture of resentment and suspicion; her lips pressed into a thin line as she walked briskly ahead of us.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, unable to ignore the palpable tension that lingered between us.

Shubman sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry about Riya."

"She's really sweet, Shubman. What is there to apologize about?"

I couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt for unwittingly becoming a source of tension in their relationship. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble," I replied, my voice tinged with regret.

Shubman shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry about it, Ilaya. This isn't your fault. Riya's just, she's just got her insecurities, that's all."

As we reached the parking lot, Riya turned to face us, her expression a mixture of anger and frustration. "I can't do this anymore, Shubman," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I can't stand by and watch you drool over her like some lovesick puppy."

Shubman's jaw clenched, his expression torn between frustration and resignation. "Riya, please. This isn't about Ilaya. It's about us."

But Riya was beyond reasoning, her anger boiling over like a volcano ready to erupt. "No, Shubman. It's about you and your stupid obsession with her. I'm done playing second fiddle to some dancer."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze in place. And then, with a sense of clarity that cut through the chaos like a beacon of light, Shubman spoke, his voice firm and resolute.

"Riya, I'm sorry. But if you can't accept that Ilaya is a part of my life, then maybe we're better off apart."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their significance reverberating through the space between us. And as Riya turned on her heel and stormed away, a sense of relief washed over me-a relief tempered with a tinge of sadness for the love that had been lost.

"And guess what? I cheated on you with your fucking gym trainer."

"Damn, alright."

As I turned to face Shubman, his gaze met mine with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Ilaya," he said, his voice soft but filled with resolve. "But I won't apologize for choosing you."

And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of it all, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude-for the friendship that had endured, the bond that had weathered the storm, and the love that had ultimately prevailed.