SHE WAS NEVER MINE

20.

The call came just after the match ended, Uncle was gone. And the doctor had taken Aunty off the ventilator.

My mind went numb. What would I say to Ritsy? How would she cope? Would life ever feel normal again? It had never felt this cruel before. I didn't know why, but all I wanted to do was run away from everything. I didn't feel capable of facing her—I felt like a terrible friend. My legs went numb, and I couldn't move. What was happening to me?

Just as I thought I might collapse, two arms wrapped around me, holding me steady. He cupped my face, and I broke down in his embrace. I began to bawl, and he held me as if he would never let me fall. So, I clung to his Indian team jersey as firmly as I could. One hand rubbed my back while the other smoothed my hair, trying to calm me down. My head rested on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that helped me breathe. I cried until there were no more tears left.

"Sharma?" His voice was soft as he wiped my tears with his thumb, still cupping my face. "We have to be strong, right? How else will you face Ritsy?"

I was still in his arms, clutching his jersey like a lifeline. If I let go, I would be lost.

"I don't know what to do, Virat," I cried again, my voice trembling.

"I know things are bad, but we have to fight through this, if not for ourselves, then for Ritsy." He continued to rub my back, and I nodded, still holding on to him.

"Okay then, let's go. We're all flying in Mahi Bhai's jet so we can reach Mumbai as soon as possible." I nodded again, wiping my tears.

During the entire journey to Mumbai, he let me hold his hand. When I fell asleep, he kissed my hair. I knew because I was half-asleep.

When we arrived, Ritsy was busy arranging everything for her parents' last rites. But as soon as she saw me, she broke down in my arms, and I cried with her. But I had to calm myself because she needed me more. I held back my tears and tried to comfort her as much as I could.

I had been so worried about how I would comfort her, but I forgot my brother was there too. He was with her every second, by her side, doing all the cremation rituals. And Avi, he wasn't crying at all. It's always been hard for him to show his emotions to the world. His face was as steady as a rock, but anyone could tell he was breaking inside. At the cremation ground, when our eyes met, I saw a tear escape from his eye before he quickly looked away.

After the funeral was over, all of Ritika and Avi's relatives came home. The boys left for Jaipur for their upcoming matches, but Mahi Bhai decided to stay with us. I hadn't seen Ritsy for over two hours after the funeral. I searched every room but couldn't find her. Then I went to Uncle and Aunty's room. The door was ajar, and when I stepped inside, Ritsy wasn't there, but Avi was. His gaze was fixed on his parents' picture. He turned around when he noticed my presence.

"I don't know what to do," he said, his voice breaking as he dropped to his knees. My mind echoed his words, I didn't know what to do either.

I stood at the door, my legs frozen in place.

"What will I do without them?" He looked at their picture again. "I—I'm losing everyone, Anu." He cried harder, and I didn't realize when tears began streaming down my own face, blurring my vision. But I remained still.

"Ritsy is barely speaking to me since that day. They were the only ones I relied on, they were my world, Anu. And now my world is gone," he said through his tears, standing up.

"You'll find a way to rebuild your world again, Avi," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Why does life have to be so cruel?" Avi screamed, punching the mirror in front of him.

"Avi, please stop," I yelled, trying to walk toward him, but he made it impossible.

"What happened?" Rohit and Virat appeared at the door, drawn by the noise. Virat quickly assessed the disarray in the room and came to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking me over from head to toe.

"I—I'm fine," I managed to say.

"Avi, calm down!" Rohit shouted at him. He carefully approached Avi and shook him by the shoulders. "If you don't take care of yourself, who will look after Ritika?" His voice softened as he demanded an answer. "She's suffering too."

"Look at what you've done to yourself." Rohit took Avi's hands in his, and I saw they were covered in blood.

"I'll get the first aid kit," I muttered.

When I returned, Rohit and Virat were gone, and Avi was sitting on the bed, his head down.

"Give me your hand," I said, sitting on the floor beside him. I gently cleaned his wound, listening to his quiet sniffles as he cried. I tried to be as gentle as possible while dressing the wound.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, a tear falling onto my hand. "I'm s-sorry for that day..." he whined.

"It's in the past," I said, standing up after finishing the dressing.

"I need you, Anu," he pleaded, his voice breaking. I didn't turn around. I didn't have the strength or the desire to see his face.

"Please stay. I need you," he begged again.

But I didn't turn around.

"You'll get better, Avi," I whispered.

"Please," he sobbed, "I love you."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?" With that, I left the room and saw Virat waiting outside.

Of course, he had heard everything. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I didn't say anything. What was I supposed to say? I didn't have the courage to look at him. I wished the earth would swallow me whole.

All I could feel was hate,
hate for Avi, and mostly for myself.

•

if you don't understand why somebody is grieving for so long over something, consider yourself fortunate that you don't understand.