Waiting for You

Chapter 17(Confession 2..)

Maya's POV:

I was sitting in my room, uploading my research paper at a speed that could only be described as "grandma's dial-up internet circa 1995." My fingers moved as if someone had secretly swapped them out with a pair of sausages. 

Normally, I type fast enough to make my keyboard beg for a break, even when I'm an emotional wreck. But today? Today, my laptop was lucky it hadn't been hurled out the window or sacrificed to the toilet gods. If I could afford a new one, trust me, this baby would be sleeping with the fishes. Goodbye, technology, goodbye, dignity.

Because today, I was DONE. Done in the most dramatic, soap-opera-villain way possible. The kind of "done" where you stare out the window and consider a life of solitude in the mountains, away from people, Wi-Fi, and, most importantly, drama.

Why, you ask? Oh, nothing major, just the fallout from the absolute apocalypse that was yesterday. You know the kind of day where everything falls apart, and you spend the entire night sobbing into your pillow? Yeah, that was me. All. Night. Long. Crying like I was auditioning for some tragic music video, except without the camera angles or attractive lighting.

And here's the best part: it wasn't even for a good reason. Nope. My new hobby apparently involves drowning my pillow with tears over...what exactly? The universe? The weather? Dhruv? Divya? My entire existence? All of the above? Who knows. 

I had become a human sprinkler system with zero self-control. My tears seemed to think they were a cure for global warming or something. I should've bottled them and sold them as "premium emotional water."

To make matters worse, my roommates were nowhere to be found. Just me, myself, and my uncontrollable sobs. So, I had my own little solo therapy session, featuring me, my pillow, and the soundtrack of my messy, chaotic life. Who needs friends when you can have a full breakdown in peace, am I right?

And then the morning arrived. The universe slapped me awake, reminding me that deadlines, unlike my sanity, do not wait for emotional crises. So there I was, uploading my research paper with all the enthusiasm of a rock, glaring at the loading bar like it had personally insulted my ancestors. My reflection caught my eye, and let me tell you, the sight was majestic.

I had transformed into a hybrid creature: half-zombie, half-deranged raccoon. My hair? A work of abstract art. My eyes? Puffy like I'd gone ten rounds with a bee allergy. And my clothes? Well, let's just say they had clung to me for so long, they were practically part of my personality now. It was like "Crying All Night Couture." Move over, fashion week—here I come.

But I was too emotionally wrecked to care. I just stared at my laptop, pretending to be a functional human being, while my brain quietly plotted my escape from life. Maybe a cave in the middle of nowhere? A remote island? Could I just become one with the trees?

Oh, and let's not forget why I was spiraling in the first place: Dhruv, Divya, and the endless mess of everything. Why did I always end up feeling like the sad, confused extra in someone else's drama? Why couldn't I just be one of those people who, like, has their life together? You know, the ones who don't cry for hours because their brain decided to have an emotional temper tantrum?

Finally, I hit "submit" on my paper, like it was some kind of grand achievement. Wow. Incredible. A true warrior. I half-expected a parade to march through my room to celebrate my Herculean effort of uploading a file. But no. Just silence.

I was ready to shut my laptop, bury myself under my blankets, and pretend the world didn't exist when my phone buzzed. Oh, joy. My favorite piece of technology. What would I do without it? Probably live a peaceful life on a farm somewhere, far from social media and constant drama.

But the buzzing didn't stop. It just kept going. Like, what, had my phone gained sentience and decided to become my personal alarm clock? I groaned, picked it up like it weighed a thousand pounds, and prepared for the worst.

Of course. Divya. Who else? Too tired to read the flood of messages, I hit the call button like a war general marching into battle.

"Hey, I'm in the middle of class, so just message m—" she whispered, but I was past the point of caring.

"SERIOUSLY, WHAT'S WITH ALL THE MESSAGES? ARE YOU CHECKING TO SEE IF I'M STILL ALIVE? DO YOU THINK I'VE COMPLETELY LOST IT?!" I basically screamed into the phone, because subtlety? Never heard of her.

"Bro, what—" she started, but then I heard it—Regina ma'am, the queen of all terror, barking orders like a drill sergeant. "Divya, out! Now!"

A moment of silence. Then, Divya's voice returned, colder than an iced latte that had been left out too long. "Maya, what is wrong with you? Did you lose your mind?"

Oh, if only she knew. "That's literally all that's left, Divya!" I yelled, my voice cracking like I was starring in some melodramatic soap opera. "I'm sorry I'm not perfect like you! I can't be THE GREAT DIVYA!" The words came out like fire, burning my throat as I let them spill.

"Why would you even WANT to be like me?!" she snapped back, and her voice was so sharp I almost dropped the phone.

"Because you're perfect!" The confession tumbled out, raw and real, and immediately, I wanted to take it back. "You're perfect," I repeated, quieter this time, like whispering it would make it less painful.

And then she laughed—a bitter, broken sound that sent a chill down my spine. "Who told you that I'm perfect, Maya? Who said that?" Her voice wavered, and suddenly, she didn't sound like Divya at all. She sounded tired. Human.

"I'm not perfect. I'm not some... thing on a pedestal. I make mistakes. I screw up. I... I have feelings too, just like you. Just like everyone else."

My throat tightened, and I felt tears prick at my eyes again. Oh, great, more tears. Just what I needed.

"Divya, I—" I started, but she cut me off.

"I can't do this right now, Maya. I just... I'll talk to you later." And then, before I could say anything else, the line went dead.

I sat there, staring at the phone, like I could will her back into existence. But no, just me, the ghost of our conversation, and the weight of everything unsaid.

And then, because the universe clearly wasn't done torturing me, my phone rang again.

This time, it wasn't Divya.

It was Dhruv.

My heart did a weird little flip, the kind that makes you question whether you're about to faint or just spontaneously combust.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. What did he want now? Another round of emotional chaos, perhaps? A fresh new hell?

With a shaky breath, I pressed the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I whispered, my voice barely steady.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, his voice came through, calm and casual, like he wasn't about to drop a bomb on my already fragile existence.

"Maya... will you be my girlfriend?"

And that was it. Time stopped. The world froze. My brain short-circuited.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey Guys,

Not me being obsessed over 'Jab Wet Met'!!

~I'm the vibe you can't ignore~

🎐🫧🦋🧿💠🌀

Thank You,

Your Loving Author

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------