Serious in Love ✔

12- "My interests are like a chameleon: changing and adapting."

12- “My interests are like a chameleon: changing and adapting.”

AHANA

“Tell me why I'm doing this again?” I asked my friend as I concentrated on stitching the fabric of the dress with a stitching machine.

Nisha was marking some measurements with a piece of cloth with a tape between her fingers and a pencil in her mouth. Upon hearing my question, she removed the pencil from her mouth without turning to me. “Because you're idle, you literally cocoon yourself to bed all day unless you have to go outside, you keep overthinking everything... Most of all, I'm saving you from falling into the severe case of depression.”

“You make my life sound so depressing, I'm already depressed,” I told her. I ran the length of the cloth under the machine, stitching up the black lace to its ends. I took a good look at the finished product before throwing it away to her. “See how perfect it is.”

“I know because you're good at stitching. Remember the Barbie doll dress you stitched back in school.”

“I still have it locked in my closet,” I admitted with a funny face.

For the past few days, I had been sort of volunteering myself to Nisha's upcoming project. She worked for a boutique that mainly focused on designing women's kurtas and other traditional clothes. She mostly worked in the studio but if she didn't find the need of professional equipment, she continued her work in her overly, messy bedroom. I happened to visit her one day, just to see her PMS'ing because she was near the due date. Like a loyal best friend, I offered my hand (I had nothing better to do anyway) which ended up with me staying the night. I even Googled a few niches from the net and suggested my own ideas in between. It was fun. At one time I was helping her while at other, I simply observed. So here I was, wasting my time by giving her time.

We decided to give our hands and eyes a a coffee break after a while. I let my eyesight bask in the dim sunlight as I seated on a chair besides the balcony. For the sake of passing time, I began fake shooting my surroundings with the help of my palm gun, while humming a tune, all at the same time. Nisha entered, carrying a plate of cookies on one hand and a tray of two cups on other. She situated herself on a chair opposite mine and stared at me weirdly as I played my shooting game. “Was your conversation with Vansh that good? You had been on cloud nine ever since. It's already been a week, missy. Wake up.”

“Shut up!” I said, pouting and lowered my hands to fetch a cup of coffee. “It wasn't a conversation, but a date. A proper date in Vansh- Ahana style. Go, dump your jealousy somewhere else.” I waved a hand in dismissal. His face and voice was still fresh in my mind, like it just happened yesterday. We didn't have a date like that afterwards but we never lost contact either. We would still catch up through messages and short duration phone calls. As long as there was a connection between us— no matter how faint— it was okay.

“I ain't jealous, babe. It's just strange watching you smile like a creep. I don't even feel like saying I'm happy for you anymore,” she teased and took another sip. “Now that you consider it, your relationship with Vansh doesn't seem like a huge hurdle like before. I remember how you came crying to me after he left Boston. I wasn't in favor of your choices, but now, I think you two made the right decision.”

I straightened up, “Ha, so you finally agree with me. I told you so. After all that happened, I think it was good he went to Boston. The long distance sucks but maybe that's what we needed all along.”