I’m not sure if I have to be amused or horrified when Nikhil looks extremely uncomfortable, having been caught.
“Uh… Hi”, He pockets his hands, looking at me for a second, and turning his head, although a smile plays on his lips.
I recall the conversation with my mother, sighing in relief when I hadn’t contributed much, it was mostly my mother talking after I had explained the situation to her.
I wonder how long he’d been standing there.
Did he… listen to my side of the story?
“Hi”, I nod, forcing a smile.
Apparently, Nikhil didn’t have anything to say as he merely stared at me.
Anxiety ate up my insides as I wondered how much he’d heard, “Since how long have you been here?”
“Since the time I was one letter short of a condom brand.”
Niyodh.
Nirodh.
My face turns red, my defences quickly building, “Why on Earth would you eavesdrop on a personal conversation?”
“It was about me”, Nikhil seems smug, as he walks towards me.
Had he changed so much in a span of mere three weeks?
I turn my head away when he nears me, angry for some reason.
Even though I like him, he had no right to disrespect my privacy like that.
And what about all the times you’ve stalked him, my subconscious arches an eyebrow.
I frown to myself, but I’d never eavesdropped on him. I usually left if he got phonecalls, especially if I hear my name, scared of what I might hear.
I’m frowning hard, my gaze down when I see Nikhil’s shoes in my vision, feeling his body heat.
“Why won’t you give in, Sandy?”
I sigh, tired, not having anything to say as I look at him regarding me with a soft gaze.
“I’m…”, I open my mouth to apologise, but don’t, because why? Why should I apologise for being myself?
Our arms brush, the minimal physical contact in days, has me yearning for more.
Red lights started to flash before my eyes at my thoughts.
Nikhil will most probably think I only want him physically, the emotional distance between us growing.
Forgive Dhruv.
Mom’s words ring in my head, making me squeeze my eyes shut.
I sigh again, taking a seat on the footpath.
“Bye.”
My gaze turns to Nikhil, longing. I only hoped it wasn’t as prominent in my eyes, “You could stay if you want to.”
“You look like you need some alone time.”
You really think that way or you just want to get away?
I’m surprised by all the negativity in my head.
I give him a do-whatever-you-want-to-shrug.
It was when he was at least a good five meters away from me that I wonder out loud the part of the conversation with mom that had me thinking hard.
“Do you think I wasn’t sincere about the time I was with you?”
Nikhil freezes in his steps, turns around, “What?”
I shrug, looking down, “Do you?”
Since I don’t have the guts to look at him, I continue to stare at the ground.
I sneak a glance at him when I don’t hear a reply, to see his agitated face.
“Did Aunty say something along those lines?”, he finally asks.
I frown, “That’s not your business”, my voice is sharp, defensive.
“Fine. Yes. I think so”, Nikhil’s voice is harsh, as if, for the first time, he wants to hurt me like I hurt him.
My eyes squeeze shut, palming my forehead.
Great.
So Nikhil did feel like an obligation.
No wonder he wanted a break, choosing to like/love me from a distance than bearing the pain of being an obligatory partner.
I could see now that it might have hurt him.
Feeling like an I’m doing him a favour by being with him probably sucked. Poor guy.
“Nothing else to say?”, Nikhil’s voice is hard, distant.
I glare at him, anger pulsing through my veins.
How dare he think I was insincere in my efforts. I genuinely do like him.
Him thinking that way made me feel inadequate.
But I understood where he’s coming from, clearly.
Thanks, mom.
I hate it when I understand perfectly what the other party is going through. I need to be mature, rational.
Here, I’ve found out the root cause of our problem, so I need to look for a solution, rather than being angry about being called insincere , half hearted.
Since I could detect a good amount of sarcasm, bitterness, I couldn’t stop myself from snapping, “Newsflash”, I smile sarcastically, “I wasn’t.”
Shut up, Sandy.
Didn’t you just agree to solve your issues? Why are you bringing ego in between. Nikhil is hurt, he has every right to be bitter. Be the better person, assure him. A verbal spat won’t do good right now.
I want to scream in frustration at all the sound advice my brain’s feeding me.
Nikhil’s eyes flash, “Maybe. But you certainly don’t show it well in that case.”
I glower at the road, trying to be calm.
Why am I so angry, when I perfectly know his issues?
These two sides of mine will be the death of me.
“I had tried”, I say, my voice arctic, “Not my fault if you were blind to it.”
Constructive arguments.
Mom would have given me a ten hour lecture if she sees what I’m doing.
“I am blind? You’re mixing up me with you.”
“Why are you being so hostile?”, fight leaves my body, as my shoulders slump in defeat.
“I’m stating things as they are”, Nikhil’s voice is curt, his fist clenched, “Dammit, Sandy. Please don’t cry.”
I glare at him through tears, helpless.
How could I make him understand he was wrong?
Actions.
Not words.
Okay, maybe, I should control my words. They’re spoiling the meaning of my actions.
“Here”, Nikhil hands me a handkerchief.
“Thanks”, I shake my head, pulling a tissue from my own pocket.
Nikhil clenches his jaw, looks away.
I’ve never seen him with that kind of an expression on his face.
And I didn’t like it, at all
He always gazed at me with longing, love, adore, soft.
Never like this, anger, accusations, hurt.
I sniff, my senses stunned when I find Nikhil’s eyes glassy too, like mine.
He reaches his hand out, squeezes my shoulder, and nods, “Don’t cry Sandy. Not for me, not for anyone else”, he says softly.
Something in his words trigger me as my vision grows hazier.
I laugh though, “I’m so sorry Nikhil”, I apologise wholeheartedly, “I didn’t know you felt that way while we were together.”
Nikhil searches my face, his eyes softening, “Thank you Sandy”, he swallows, “I really needed to hear that.”
I had to clench my fist, nails digging into my palms to prevent hugging him.
Did he have similar urges, I fervently wished.
I nod, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, tired of the emotional baggage I’ve been carrying around.
“I…”, Nikhil pauses, wiping my tears as he cups my face.
I relish the contact, my eyes shutting on their accord for a few seconds.
I’m nervous when Nikhil only stares at me, a smile playing on his lips as he strokes my cheek, pulls me into a hug when another tear drops my eyes.
My tears seemed to have miraculously vanished in Nikhil’s arms as my heart felt at peace, at home as he shushes me, places a kiss on my hair.
Maybe it’s time to stop fighting him.
Maybe it’s time to fight for him, for us.