Ojasvi
Oh god, kya maine rudely baat kar liya? The thought raced through my mind as I walked into the school building, my heart sinking.
I hadn’t meant to come off as harsh; it was just that Vedant had been so insistent about waiting for me, and I needed to do this without him knowing.
I wanted to surprise him with a gift to show my appreciation for the rings he had bought for both of us.
After all, he was doing so much for me already, and I wanted to reciprocate in some way.
I had checked his wardrobe yesterday and noted his size, hoping to make the surprise perfect.
Gifts are meant for surprises, and I feared I had ruined his mood with my sharp response.
As I entered the school office to take my leave, my thoughts swirled. Once I secured my leave,
I headed to one of the best shops in India—this was a crucial part of my plan. I entered the boutique, and an employee approached me promptly.
“Ma’am, what do you want to buy?” she asked with a bright smile.
“I want to buy a three-piece suit,” I replied, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. The employee led me to the men’s section, where an array of suits adorned the racks.
After some deliberation, I selected a suit that I hoped would look stunning on Vedant.
Once that was taken care of, I decided to buy him a traditional outfit as well.
The thought brought a smile to my face as I continued shopping. After paying for those items, I made my way to a perfume shop, where I found a cologne that I thought would complement his existing collection.
By the time I finished shopping, it was 10 a.m., and my bank balance had taken a significant hit.
I sighed, thinking about my salary dwindling with every purchase. The excitement of the gifts felt overshadowed by the worry about my spending.
Just then, my phone rang—Vedant’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated but answered. “Hello?”
“Ojasvi, are you at home?” he asked, his voice smooth and deep.
“No, not yet,” I replied, glancing at my shopping bags, anxiety creeping back in.
“Are you still at school? Wait for me there; I want to buy a mangalsutra for you. Let’s go together to shop since tonight is our reception, and everyone will be there,” he said, sounding enthusiastic.
Oh god, no! If he came, he would definitely see everything I had just bought.
I needed an excuse—something that would keep him away from me long enough to hide the gifts. “I’ve already bought it; you don’t need to come. I’m already on my way home,”
I said in a tone that I hoped sounded irritated but didn’t quite convey the panic I felt.
Silence fell on the other end of the line. My heart sank as I hung up the phone, realizing I had likely made his mood worse.
He only wanted to spend time together, and here I was pushing him away. I couldn’t believe I had done that. I mentally chastised myself as I made my way home.
When I arrived, I spotted Badi Ma in the living room. “Arrey Ojasvi beta, aa gayi! Breakfast kar liya tum dono ne?” she greeted warmly.
“Vedant ne nahi kiya?” I asked, curious if he had eaten.
“Nahi, woh keh raha tha tum dono kuch saman kharidne ja rahe ho aur bahar se hi breakfast karoge,” she replied, her brow furrowing in confusion as she glanced at my shopping bags.
I felt my stomach twist. I couldn’t let her know what I had been up to. “Ji, Badi Ma, woh humne kar liya hai.
Thoda defective saman aaya hai, usse wapis karne jaa rahi thi,” I lied smoothly, hoping she would buy it.
She suggested letting the servant handle the returns, but I quickly declined, insisting that since I bought it, I would take care of it myself.
Once outside, I dialed Vedant’s number again. I needed to check on him. Was he upset? Did he skip breakfast because of me?
My mind spiraled into a cycle of overthinking. When he answered on the second ring, his deep voice sent a jolt of anxiety through me.
“Hello,” he said.
“Vedant, are you free right now?” I asked, my heart racing.
“What happened?” he replied, a hint of concern lacing his words.
I hesitated. What should I say? Should I ask him to come over so we could eat together? What if he had already eaten? What if he was busy? Panic gripped me.
“My wounds—I think they’re healed now, so I wanted to meet Dr. Mishra,” I blurted out, words tumbling out before I could think.
“Then I’ll send someone to take you to Dr. Mishra,” he replied.
“No, can’t you come? I mean, if you’re free…” I said, my voice trailing off.
There was a minute of silence before he finally agreed to come, hanging up shortly after. My heart raced. Did I just disturb him? What if he had been in the middle of something important?
The weight of my anxiety pressed down on me. Negative thoughts swirled in my mind, and I could feel tears pricking at my eyes. I hated this part of me—the part that doubted and overthought everything.
As I stood there, lost in my thoughts, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I turned around to see who it was, my heart pounding.
