Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

26. When You Don't Fit In

The next morning, I stood outside Dr. Patel's office, my hand hovering over the doorknob, frozen with hesitation. Just as I was about to push the door open, my phone buzzed. Nitya's name flashed across the screen. Thank goodness.

I picked up immediately. "Nitya! You’re back?"

"Yes," she said with a soft chuckle, "Just landed. Can you pick me up?"

Relief washed over me. Without a second thought, I bolted to the airport. On our way back, I explained everything to her -- how I was stuck, the looming deadline, and the pressure from Dad. Without missing a beat, she pulled out her laptop, set it on her lap, and began working on the project as we drove.

By the time we arrived, she had completed the project. I thanked her with genuine gratitude, but inside, I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt.

I rushed back to Dad's office and placed the completed project on his desk. "It’s done," I said quietly.

He glanced over the pages, flipping through with a practiced eye. Without looking up, he asked, "Nitya returned?"

I nodded, "Yeah, Dad. This morning."

He closed the folder, his gaze finally meeting mine. "Be sure to thank her for finishing it, especially after just getting back. She’s probably exhausted from jet lag."

I lowered my head, feeling small. Useless, even. I had relied on her once again, like a crutch.

He wasn’t finished. "Next time," he said in a measured tone, "don’t just think about yourself. Look around. People can be tired, worn out, and they aren’t there just for your benefit. Learn to handle things on your own."

He was right. I had been using people for my own gain, and the realization hit me hard. I kept leaning on Nitya, first to help me scrape through semesters in college and now, to maintain my standing at work.

The next day, I found myself at the office, my gaze drifting outside the window as I mulled over everything. I pulled out my phone from my apron and dialed Nitya's number.

"Hey," I started, "How about I treat you to a meal?"

Her voice came through with its usual cleverness. "Oh? Is this for helping you with the project?"

I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. "Yeah, something like that."

She chuckled and replied, "In that case, pick me up this evening. We'll meet someone special."

"Alright," I said without asking anything. "I’ll see you then."

I dressed in a sharp blue suit with a red tie. When I arrived at her house, she greeted me with a bright smile, and we headed out together. She directed me to The Zodiac Fort Hotel, a place known for its elegance.

After dropping her off at the entrance, I parked the car and made my way inside. The opulent interior of the hotel was impressive, with its polished marble floors and soft, ambient lighting. I spotted Nitya waiting by a table near a large window, overlooking the cityscape.

I joined her, and after scanning the menu, we decided to order just a lemon juice for now.
As we sipped our lemon juice, she smiled at me. "I was worried you might show up in casual clothes," she said with a hint of playfulness.

I chuckled. "I figured your special people are all professionals, so I should dress the part."

Her gaze softened. "Well, you look good. I’m glad you made the effort."

Just then, a man in his mid-forties approached and took a seat at our table.

She turned to me and said, "Ryan, this is Dr. Bharadwaj. He's a renowned eye surgeon in the city and will be attending the seminar for our project. I thought it would be good to make the introduction and complete the courtesy first."

We exchanged pleasantries, and Nitya guided the conversation towards the upcoming seminar, ensuring that everything was in order.

During the meal, Nitya and Dr. Bharadwaj delved into a variety of topics that I could follow but struggled to fully engage with. When our dishes arrived, I noticed mushrooms in my noodles. I quickly picked them out and began eating, trying to stay discreet.

Nitya leaned in and whispered, "Ryan, don’t be so picky. It’s bad manners." She shot a glance at Dr. Bharadwaj and then back at me, making it clear she expected me to comply.

When the drink was served, I saw it contained hazelnuts. I simply raised my glass for a toast but didn’t drink it.

Her disappointment was evident as we drove back. She said, "If I had known you’d act like this, I wouldn’t have invited you. You didn’t join our discussion, and you barely touched your drink when Dr. Bharadwaj insisted."

I replied, "Nitya, the drink had hazelnuts, and the noodles had mushrooms. I’m allergic to both."

Her frustration boiled over as she retorted, "Why didn’t you mention this beforehand?"

I paused, glancing at her as she visibly struggled with frustration. Keeping my eyes on the road, I said, "I’ve mentioned before every time you order these two."

She took a deep breath and said, "I’m sorry. It just slipped my mind."