To Love Or Not To Love| A FEATURED STORY

Chapter 1

Anya and Karthik were high-school sweethearts only to make it to the same college and land similar jobs in the same city. They were together for four years after graduation. Anya thought life could not be better. She was the happiest when they decided to live together in an apartment in Bangalore.

Late-night shifts and growing work pressure were indeed driving a wedge in their relationship. She sensed it but never addressed it. She meant to talk to him but never initiated it. She had disregarded apparent signs. Her quick analytical mind was warning her, but her romantic heart ignored it, and she hesitated in calling him out. It could all be traced to a year back when he did not turn up to fetch her from the office.

"An? I'm so sorry, baby. I have a client meeting now. I can't pick you up,"  Karthik's voice sounded rushed from the other end of the phone when he finally spoke, after twenty of her missed calls.

"You should've said that when I called you the first time. At least, you could've messaged. I've been waiting like for aeons now," Anya retorted in annoyance.

"Come on, baby. It's not that late. I'll be home before you know it," he placated.

"Karthik, it's not about you being late. It's about wasting my time. I like to spend my time the way I want. Even if I wait, that should be because I chose it. Plus, I hate waiting," she declared.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll message next time. Ok? Got to go, bye!" 

So, there'll be a next time, Anya pondered as she put her phone away.

She did not think much about it then, but after that conversation, they had stopped driving together. Anya had to rely on public transport for her travel.

Soon, there were detailed messages instead of calls. Once Karthik got the hang of the latest messaging jargon, even these messages became concise -- like a telegram from older times --with a lot of information packed with the least possible number of characters.

Boys N8 out. Wil b late. ILY.

--Karthik

She took time to decipher the message and was irked because it was the Friday evening which they had planned to spend together. She knew this could be the cause of a prominent divide between them.

A few months later, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, "I'm getting this second-hand Wagon R. What do you think?" Anya chirped, as she browsed through the online used-cars website. It was all a ruse to get a reaction from Karthik.

After a long time, they were at home. He had been amicable that day. He cooked and cleaned for a change, before Anya woke up. It was a welcome surprise, but he was soon with his laptop and made no attempts to converse with her.

"Hmm, hmm. Good for you. Nice choice," he said without looking up. 

Anya gaped at him for a minute, then paid for the car, before she changed her mind.

The car was a blessing in disguise, or rather a blessing in hasty decisions. It served its purpose. She could finish her chores, travel to the office without hassles, and wondered why she took so long to get a vehicle. Yet, she did not confront him about their relationship. She was delusional and in denial then. Now, she knew that she had paid dearly.

Her pride was hurt. Thinking, she felt, was self-inflicted torture. When the breakup was still new, she had felt only anger which dwindled to numbness. She deleted Karthik's photos from all her devices, stopped browsing social media pages, except LinkedIn. Few of her days were better than others, and some days there was this indescribable pain in her abdomen, some kind of physical manifestation of rejection. It was not that she had loved him dearly, but she did not expect the betrayal.