Words escape me. I can't thank you all enough for all the beautiful feedbacks and predictions... haha some of them are right on dot and they are amazing! Everyone one of you is the reason why I am writing this story in such a mad speed! right now I am just ending the malicious part of the story... I dont like depressing sight! Gahh just read the chapter and figure! And thanks again for loving this story! I could never feel this story is really as good as the other fanfic! Trust me that's what I felt when I first thought of it! 'nyways...Enjoy! And review! Thanks once again!
The next few days blended into one monotonous grey blur. There was a permanent Jhanvi imprint in my bed because I would only ever leave it for an hour at a time, to have a shower, or eat something to ease huger pains whenever they manifested themselves. However nothing could ease the dull aching pain in my chest where my heart had once been. My best friend had betrayed me, played me for a sucker and then sold me out. Because of that, Daya had left me. It was a double edged sword that cut me deep. I tried everything to keep my mind busy, to forget it and escape from myself for a few hours, but it never worked.
Reading was impossible because it would only be five or ten minutes before I'd realise that I'd been reading the same paragraph over and over. Listening to music was also useless. I would find hidden meanings in the lyrics, apply them to me and end up feeling worse than I did before I started. My mother tried her best, maintaining that retail therapy was the best way to mend a broken heart. Somehow, I didn't think that spending all the money in the world would buy enough glue to mend my heart. Time was my only cure.
Maybe I was being melodramatic, maybe I was exaggerating. Did other people lose their best friend and their love in the same day? Did they go on holding their head up high and pretend that nothing had gone wrong? I didn't know about other people but I was Jhanvi Sharma, and Jhanvi wanted to brood.
My dad and brothers were also being very considerate. Mum must have threatened them with her wrath. Usually they thought that annoying Jhanvi and trying to make her laugh was the best way to cheer her up. In the past it worked, but it would only make things worse now.
It was the third or fourth, or perhaps even fifth day after I'd arrived home, I didn't keep track, the days all blended into one. Mum had come into my room to set some laundry out to dry on my balcony. I had my back to her, pretending to be asleep again. It wasn't difficult. It seemed that all I did was sleep. She stopped, and I could hear her sigh, frustrated that as a mother, she could do absolutely nothing. I'm sure it broke her heart to see me the way I was, but I couldn't change a thing. Then the bed sagged slightly under her weight as she sat down on the edge. Placing a hand on my shoulder she began to talk.
"Jhanvi?"
I ignored her. She'd tried talking to me about it and every time ended the same, with me choking on my tears and leaving the room before she'd even gotten to the point.
"Tu so nehi rahi hai, mujhe pata hai."
To keep up the charade further was pointless, so I pushed myself up into a sitting position and grabbed my glasses from the bedside table.
"Kya hua?" I asked, sounding harsher than I intended. All she was trying to do was help.
Mum reached over and lifted my phone and set it in my hands.
"Phone karo use, baat karke sab thik karo, yeh sirf tumhe karna hai or kisi ko nehi..."
"Ma, Daya ne mujhe saaf saaf keh diya tha ki woh mujhse ab kabhi baat nehi karna chahta to me kya karu," I snapped grumpily.
"Me Daya ki baat nehi kar rhi hu, Nakul ko call kar. Nakul tera bhai jesa hai or mera bhi bete jaisa hai. Woh bhi musibat me hai mujhe pata hai, drugs nehi le sakta mera bacha kabhi. Or tum dono ek saath rahoge tabhi sab thik ho jaiga, tum dono humesha saath rehte ho. Tum dono ki jori uske tarah hai...um..." she paused as she searched for an appropriate simile, "Ha, ek ipod or earphone ke tarah hai. Ek gayab ho to dusra bhi kaam karna band kar deta hai. Isliye, tu call kar or use sab kuch bata, mere liye atleast call kar use."
Giving me a sympathetic smile, she patted my leg before getting up and leaving. I stared down at the mobile in my hands. I didn't want to call him. There was no question about it, it had to be him. Besides, he hadn't called me yet to protest his innocence, yet another finger that pointed the blame to him. Yet, I still found myself scrolling down through my phonebook, trying to find his name. I needed to know why. Why he had disregarded our whole friendship, why he had betrayed me. My finger hovered over the call button, when another name caught my eye. Tanisha.
A guilty wave washed over me when I realised that I hadn't talked to her since the accident, I hadn't called to see how she or the baby was doing. Feeling like a horrible person for being so inconsiderate, I clicked her name and rang her.
She was thrilled to hear from me and couldn't have been more eager to see me. The baby was still in hospital because she'd been severely premature, but seemed to be making good progress. Tanisha wouldn't leave her side, so I arranged to go in to see her and the baby the next day.
After four different busses I managed to find my way to the hospital, and regained my hate of public transport. Tanisha met me in the lobby.
"Sorry Tanisha Di, call nehi kar payi," I apologised as we walked towards the special care unit.
"Sorry mat bol Jhanvi, mission pe bhi to jana zaruri tha na, time nikalna impossible hai," she replied kindly, "CID log jab mission pe bhejte he to kisi ke pas saas tak lene ke liye time nehi hota. Bhot kaam hota hai or risk bhi."
"You have no idea," I sighed.
She laughed then gestured down the hall we were walking.
"Yeh unit premature baby or Mother ke liye hai. Yaha sir premature delivery wale rehte he jese ki main. Wese yeh bhot acha hua, nehi to me apne bache ke bina ek pal bhi nehi ji pati sach keh rhi hu."
As she opened the door and I could see the little hospital cot over to the side of the room with tubes everywhere. When I saw her, I just melted. I love children and the sight of Tanisha's baby reduced me to jelly.
"Kitni pyaari hai apki baby," I cooed. She was also so tiny, and it was a bit heartbreaking to see her connected to all the tubes and monitors.
"Naam kya rakha hai apne iska."
"Hum soch rhe hai Twinkle rakhu, T for Tanisha or T for Twinkle," she said, reaching over and stroking her little head, "Kesa hai yeh naam?"
"Its perfect," I replied, barely able to form proper sentences in my head. I just wanted to pick her up and cuddle her, but knew that she was far too fragile for that. I sighed, then looked to Tanisha and asked, "Ap abhi kesi ho Di?"
"Bhagwan ke daya se thik hu. Pata nehi tha woh accident ese achanak kese hua; daravna sapna tha ek dam. Tum batao? Dr. Sarunkhe ne to kaha tha ki sab thik hai, kisi ko zyada chot nehi ayi, me bhot khush hu ke sab thik thak bach gaye."
"Us accident ke baad to na jane kese kese khwab ane lage mujhe," I laughed, "Par wese sab thik hai."
Tanisha nodded, then looked out the window, seeming somewhat distant. I leaned over the cot and put my little finger into Emma's hand, cooing to her, even though she was asleep and I looked like an idiot.
"Jhanvi?" Tanisha said suddenly. I looked up. "Mujhe...pata hai tere or Daya Sir... ke saath kya hua. Dr. Sarunkhe ne kal mujhe phone karke sab bataya."
My heart skipped a little. How much did she know? Did she, like everyone else hold me responsible for the article? I gulped down the lump in my throat.
"Dekho Tanisha Di..." I started hesitantly, "Woh article. Sab jhoot hai, ap agar bhagwan ko mante ho to me bhi unhe manti hu. Or unki kasam khake kehti hu...Mene woh sab nehi likhwaya! Pata nehi kyu mujhe in sab me phasaya ja rha hai!"
"Pata hai mujhe, tune kuch nehi kiya."
Frowning, I opened my mouth to ask how she knew when the door opened behind me. Whirling my head to see who it was, my eyes went wide and my heart gave a lurch when I saw who had just walked in.
"Jhanvi, gussa mat ho please," Tanisha said hurriedly, "Mene hi kaha tha ise tu yaha arhi ha. Use tujhe ek zaruri baat kehni hai, keh lene de use."
"Ab? ab kya reh gaya kehne ko Di?" I snapped, standing up and getting ready to leave.
"Jhanvi, please," Nakul begged grabbing my wrist, "Ek baar meri baat sunle fir chali ja tu me kuch nehi kahunga."
He was a mess. His usually styled and well kept hair was all over the place, like he hadn't brushed it for days. There were heavy purple bags under his eyes and he looked as though he'd been wearing the same clothes for the last few days. His skin also looked sickly pale. What had happened to him that he'd be in such a state? He took my silence as his answer, and began to talk.
"Maine woh article nehi publish kiya Jhanvi, sach keh raha hu," he began, "You've got to know that I'd never do that to you!"
"Then who else could have done it? Or kon janta hai is interview ke bare me? Daya or Abhijeet to nehi karenge yeh na?" I hissed, trying to keep my voice low and as calm as possible for little Twinkle's sake. Babies could feel tension in the air, and I didn't want her to wake up and start crying.
Nakul swallowed hard and for what must have been the first time in my life, I saw tears well in his eyes. It stunned me. Nakul never cried, and if he did, then he didn't ever do it in front of me. He said jokingly to me one time that it was the last scrap of his masculinity refusing to budge.
"Sid," he croaked, "It was Sid."
I frowned. How could it have been Sid, he didn't know about any of it.
"But..." I began.
"I told him about it. I'm so sorry I didn't think he'd do anything. He just asked one night how you and Daya met and I told him everything you told me. I'm sorry, me nashe me bhot kuch keh gaya, I was high at the time and I don't remember much about it."
"So what about the pictures? You told me you'd deleted them!"
Nakul sniffed, and I could see one tear escape his eye. A niggling voice told me at the back that they were crocodile tears, while another told me to use common sense. If he couldn't cry normally, then he would hardly be able to fake tears.
"I... I kept them. I thought that we... I don't know, could look back on them in a few years and laugh. I showed them to him, I didn't see the harm. He must have downloaded a copy for himself. I'm so sorry Jhanvi, agar mujhe pata hota ki woh insab ka galat istemal karta to..."
"So why did Sid do it?" I asked, folding my arms.
"Do you... do you remember that I said he wanted to be a journalist? He still does. Uske Chacha humare ex boss Sanjay hai. He was sent on the tour to get a story, your story, the story he never got. And I lied about him not taking drugs. He sold the story to his uncle to pay for the heroin."
The empty cold feeling of shock had returned. Everything seemed to be falling into place like a sick and twisted jigsaw puzzle.
"Sanjay uska Chacha hai?" I repeated.
"Well he's hardly likely to be his son. No-one outside a mental institution would fuck a man like Sanjay."
A snigger escaped my mouth before I could catch it, and I had to fight the corners of my mouth to stop myself from smiling. I couldn't allow myself to forgive so quickly.
I sighed, the anger having left my body, but the sadness still remained.
"How do I know you're telling the truth? What's to say that you're not lying to me again?"
"Why would I come back if I was lying?" he answered, "Why else would I have left Sid?"
He was right. He didn't leave Sid's side for a month solid, so it made sense that they could only be parted over something as drastically as this.
"He used me," he sniffed, as more tears made their presence known on his cheeks, "He told me he loved me but he was just using me."
And that's when my barrier cracked and I went over to hug him. I'd never seen him look so fragile and I knew that he'd been telling the truth. My best friend was back, back where he belonged, and he hadn't betrayed me. Not purposefully.
"I'm so sorry," he sobbed into my shoulder, "It's all my fault. If I'd know, I'd have tried to stop him but I didn't know and I didn't call because I knew you wouldn't listen over the phone and... and..."
He couldn't go on anymore he was shaking so much. He felt hot through his clothes, like he was suffering a fever. I released him and put a hand to his forehead. He was burning up.
"How long has it been since your last hit?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.
"...a while," he mumbled, attempting a smile, "But I don't want another one. Ever. Look what it made me do."
"Let's get you home," I groaned. Then, I turned to Tanisha. "Thank you Di."
"Thank you mat bolo, Nakul tumhare bhai jesa hai. Acha hua tumne ise maaf kar diya! Or jab bhi time mile mujhe phone kardena thik hai?"
"Wouldn't miss it Di," I smiled, sighing in relief as a weight was lifted from my shoulders. The whole ordeal almost made me forget about Daya.
Almost.
It took Christian the better part of a week to get over his withdrawal. He had a fever, and he would take shaking fits every so often, complaining about being too cold, then too hot the next minute. Anything he ate came back up again unpleasantly and he looked as though he would break if you hugged him too tightly. Between mom and myself, we nursed him back to health. Mom took the opportunity to beat the fear of drugs into my younger brothers, using Nakul as an example why it was such an unpleasant road to go down. It turned out that he'd used all the money from the tour to bus his way back from Delhi to Mumbai. That explained his appearance at the hospital, because the journey had taken him a whole two days to complete, and he'd only brought his camera, his laptop and whatever else he could fit into his backpack. The rest of his stuff was parcelled back with mine a few days after.
It was heartbreaking sorting through all my clothes again. Each piece held a memory, like the pyjamas that I'd worn the night I'd had the bad dream and shared Daya's bed. I'd never given Abhijeet back his hoodie from the night of the crash simply because he never asked for it back and I liked it. The crumpled dress from the night before I'd been unceremoniously kicked off tour held the most painful memory and it got thrown into the bin. I didn't care that it had cost the earth, there was no way that I could ever look at it again, let alone wear it.
After two weeks, things were starting to take shape again. The iPod had its earphones again. I still had my moments, like when I watched a particular movie and there was a romantic scene, I would feel my heart deflate again. It would take time, but I knew that I would eventually get better, and that Daya would become nothing but a memory. I mostly avoided watching the news channels again, since the heroes are always on the headlines. I never wanted to see them, neither on TV.
The memories, however, refused to die without a fight as I found out one particularly stormy night. In was December and the weather had taken a turn for the worst, with bitterly cold rain and wind that shook the windows until I was sure they'd come crashing down into the room. Nakul and I were huddled under a blanket watching a movie on my laptop, since the power cables had been blown down. The rain beat a relentless patter on the windows and there was a rumbled of thunder in the distance. It probably wasn't the best idea to watch a horror movie that night, but Nakul had convinced me. The doorbell made us both scream. Laughing at my own stupidity I picked up a torch to see my way to the door. I half expected to open the door to see some crazed axe murderer ready to jump on me and hack me to pieces like in the movie. However, it was much worse than that.
A CID officer was much worse than an axe murderer.
In a matter of seconds my mood plummeted again. I'd hoped never to see him again, or his best friend for that matter. Why couldn't they just let me get on with my life? Why did they have to torment me with their presence?
"Kon he Jhanvi?" my mother called from the kitchen where she was attempting to make dinner on a Stove, since our usual cooker was electric, and the power had still to come back on.
"Koi nehi hai ma," I said, venom spilling from my tongue.
"Ouch, itna gussa?" the visitor replied.
"Kyu aye ho yaha Abhijeet?" I sighed, leaning against the wall with my arms folded, "Meri zindagi pehle se bhot kharab ho chukka hai tum sabke wajah se, ab or kya chahiye tumhe?"
"Me sab samjhaunga...pehle me andar to ajau?" he asked, lifting up his arms to show me the damage that the rain had done to his clothing. The expensive black woollen long coat had stuck to his body like glue, and there was water dripping off the brim of his baseball cap. He looked pathetic, but given our past it was hard to muster up some sympathy for him.
"Please?" he begged, "Bahar bhot barish ho rahi hai... Thand bhot hai yar... I am all wet!"
Somewhere on the landing at the top of the stairs, hysterical laughing burst from Nakul who had just made his eavesdropping known.
"Koi or word bolta to shayad better hota..," the officer winced. Failing to see the funny side, I stood defiant.
"Yar... please? It's important."
He looked at me with those eyes and for a split second, the drowned rat on my doorstep was Daya, and, despite everything, my defences crumbled. Stepping aside I let him in.
"It better be. Take your shoes off," I instructed, "And don't touch anything. Don't move."
"Do you want me to stop breathing too?" he asked as I bounded up the stairs two at a time. Pausing, I turned and flashed him the most deliberately false smile possible.
"If you don't mind."
"Ap sochna bhi band kardo," added Nakul, "Kyuki agar pehle socha hota to is tarah ane ki zarurat nehi hoti."
"Sach me pathetic condition me main khara hu yaha pe! Is this abuse necessary?!" Abhijeet whinged loud enough for me to hear as I disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve a towel.
"Yes," Nakul and I answered simultaneously.
I was gone no more than thirty seconds, but when I returned my entire family had swooped down on him like vultures around a corpse. Nakul was enjoying the show from his vantage point at the top of the stairs.
"This is so cool, mere friends yakeen nehi kar sakte ki ap humare ghar pe aye ho," my younger brother gawped.
"Yehi hai kya woh jiske wajah se Jhanvi itna ro rahi thi do mahino se?" my dad asked my mum in his serious voice.
"Ap chup raho," mum scolded, in her 'don't you dare interfere' tone, before adding, "Yeh Daya nehi hai, yeh uska ka dost hai."
"Meri na girlfriend ap sab ki bhot bari fan hai," said my older brother.
"Er... waah beta...yeh to bhot achi baat hai haina?" Abhijeet tried. I'd stopped to watch with Nakul on the stairs, and I could feel Abhijeet's awkwardness even from where he stood at the far end of the hall.
"No yeh achi baat nehi hai," the older of my two brothers snapped, "Woh har time ap logo ke bare me baat karti rehti he, me jealous ho gaya hu, had hai."
"Sir me apki photo le sakta hu?" younger brother asked. Even the dog had joined in and started barking at the intruder.
Even in the darkness of the power cut I could see Abhijeet give me a pleading look to rescue him. It was tempting to let him suffer at the hands of my family. I gave in again and went reluctantly to his aid.
"Okay, enough," I shooed them, "Ab jao sabke sab, bye bye."
Mum led dad away as my older brother followed with the dog. She had to come back to drag my younger brother off by the neck of his t-shirt, while he insisted the whole way into the kitchen that he only wanted one photo. Once the kitchen door shut, Abhijeet let out such a big sigh that I thought he would collapse. Then he spotted the towel.
"Oh brilliant, thank you so much I..."
"Yeh apke liye nehi hai," I frowned holding it away from the hand that had extended to take it.
"Yeh mere sofe ke liye hai taki ap jab betho to woh gila na ho jai."
He let out another sigh as I pointed towards the living room. I laid out the towel on the sofa and went to light the oil lamp from a rather disastrous camping trip that dad had insisted we take two years previous so that we weren't in total darkness.
"Right, what's so important?" I asked him, folding my arms and leaning back into one of the arm chairs opposite.
"Me Daya ke bare me baat karne aya hu," he began.
"Ap aye ho uske behalf me, huh fattu..."
"Eyii," Abhijeet interrupted.
"Kya eyii, woh Jhanvi ko us time pe paise deke or airport chorke bhag gaya tha jab Jhanvi ko uski sabse zyada zarurat thi," Nakul, who had slipped into the room, unnoticed, barked.
"Ese insane ko fattu nehi kahenge to kya kahenge?"
"Dekho, wahi me samjhane aya hu..."
"...Or Daya ne hi saaf saaf mujhe us din keh diya tha," I continued, talking over the top of Abhijeet and not even caring that I was being obnoxious, "That he didn't want to see me again."
"Me woh bhi samjhaunga ki woh esa kyu..." Abhijeet mumbled.
"To samjhao, hum khare he yaha pe! Samjhao!"
"Thik hai," he began, taking in a deep breath. "Daya ne tumhe chora mere wajah se..."
"Yeh baat to hume bhi bhot ache se pata hai isme samjhane wali kya baat hai, Mr. Sherlock," Nakul sneered.
"Yar tum logo ko meri baat nehi sunni na, bas mera ragging kar rhe ho na?" he asked nobody.
"Haan," Nakul and I answered in sync again.
Groaning, he continued.
"Jese ki me bata rha tha usne mere wajah se tumhe chora. Par sirf wahi tak baat khatam nehi hua. Tum jab us room se chali gayi thi tab mene khud use kaha tha ki use mere or tumhare beech kisi ko chun na hoga, ya to me rahunga CID me or is mission me uske saath ya fir tum, ab me soch raha hu ki me kitna kamina tha..."
"Woh to ap ho hi," muttered Nakul.
Abhijeet ignored him and continued, "...kyuki mujhe pata tha woh mujhe hi chunega, apne farz of dosti ko hi chunega. Besides, Agar me CID chor deta to fir we'd have to resign from the mission, and our management would have sooner removed you by force than let us cancel, so whatever happened, mujhe pata tha ki humare DCP khud tumhe nikal bahar fekte is mission se."
"Wow apka plan to bhot amazing tha..."
"Would you shut...up!" Abhijeet hissed through clenched teeth at my friend, his annoyance becoming more and more apparent.
"Excuse me, don't talk to Nakul like that," I growled across the room at him.
For a second I thought Abhijeet was about to explode, but he composed himself, balling his hands into tight fists until the urge to spontaneously combust had passed.
"Look, if I was being selfish I wouldn't have bothered to come back here to...apologise...to you two. Par baat yaha meri nehi, Daya ki hai."
"Well if it was going to be so uncomfortable for you to be here why didn't he come himself?" I asked, still with a bitter edge on my tongue.
"Kyuki woh yaha nehi ana chahta hai."
Abhijeet's last words cut me deep and I looked up, blinking furiously to fight against the tears that had appeared in the corners of my eyes. There was a part of me that had never wanted to admit what had happened, but what had just been said confirmed that all bridges had been burnt between me and his best friend.
"No... ek minute, mere kehne ka matlab woh nehi tha," Abhijeet panicked, obviously having seen my distress.
"To fir kya matlab tha?" I enquired, the lump in my throat strangling the words as they came out. If he hadn't already worked out that I was on the verge of tears, he did now.
"Jab hume pata chala ki tumne woh..."
Nakul cleared his throat loudly and obviously. Abhijeet growled.
"Tumne...or Nakul ne... woh article nehi likhwaya tha to Daya bhot khush ho gaya tha, for about half a second. He felt so bad then for what he'd done at the airport, and he really wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to him again. Usne kaha tha ki woh pehle se tumhara bhot bara gunegar hai, or agar woh firse tumhare samne yaha to shayad, woh tumhare liye or takleef laye, and he didn't want that."
I brushed my hand quickly over my cheek, wiping away the traitorous tear that had escaped my eye before anyone saw it. I was experiencing too many emotions to cope with. I was worried that my body would combust from simply overloading on them. I was so relieved that Daya finally knew the truth, slightly confused about his reasons for not coming back, and angry that he was too gutless to come and apologise for himself.
There was a momentary silence in the room while everyone digested the conversation so far. Then Nakul piped up.
"Ap logo ko Sid ke bare me kese pata laga? I left before telling anyone."
Abhijeet shuddered obviously.
"Humara kaam hi hai tehkikat karna, aur jab hume laga ki shayad tum dono begunah ho to humne Sid ka peecha kiya, uspe nazar rakha... Or..."
He trailed off, giving me a very pained look, "Yeh to shayad tumhe pata hai ki woh Tum logo ke boss Sanjay ke rishte hai hai, par jab humne tehkikat ki to..."
He sighed. "Hume pata laga, ki woh Shreya ka hone wala pati, Siddharth hai!"
Christian was in hysterical laughter. I had a suspicious feeling that it was a case of either laugh or cry, because he was smart enough to have worked out that it was another reason that Sid had just been using him. My heart went out to Shreya. We all have been through the love wars recently and were carrying the cuts and bruises to prove it.
"Woh Siddharth hai, or woh yeh sab natak Daya ko expose krne ke liye or tumhe badnaam karne ke liye kar rha tha! Or Shreya tak ko is baat ki bhanak nehi lagne di. Jab ki woh bhi is mission me thi. Usne get up esi kar rakhi thi ki... I mean gay banne ki acting or woh sab!" He trailed off, shuddering visibly.
"Khair, ab kya?" I asked Abhijeer, "You've apologised for you and for your best friend. Is that all you came to do? Do we go back to our own lives now and pretend none of this happened?"
"If that's what I wanted I wouldn't have bothered coming. We could have done a pretty good job of ignoring each other without the apology. Me yaha sirf apology ke liye hi nehi aya hu... Daya tumhare bina, bilkul akela hai, jese ki koi robot ko.. Koi feelings rahi nehi usme ab."
"And how am I supposed to help exactly?"
"I thought I was supposed to be the clueless one here? Me chahta hu ki tum mere saath chalo, use manao or... Sab thik kar do."
"Because it's that simple," I sneered sarcastically.
"Why not?"
"Woh use chorke bhag gaya isliye!" Nakul shouted, letting no-one forget that he was in the room too.
"Yar... Yeh, Yeh Daya ka nature hai, woh yar esa hi hai." Abhijeet muttered, rolling his eyes, "He can't say goodbye. Uske humesha mere saahare ki zarurat parti hai kuch kehne ke liye, humesha. Yeh aj ki baat nehi hai, yeh bhot pehle se esa hai, Jhanvi."
"To isme me kya kar sakti hu huh?" I snapped back, the bitterness in my head still reigning over what the heart was screaming at me to do. Of course I wanted nothing more than to run back to Daya all smiles and forgiveness, but I didn't want to give in so easily.
"Please, Jhanvi, agar tum chahti ho to me tumhare age gir gira ke tumse maafi mang sakta hu. Do I have to move the towel if I do so I don't get the carpet wet?" Abhijeet asked, smirking at his own little joke.
"Mujhe tumse koi lena dena nehi hai Abhijeet, me chahti hu Daya yeh kare tum nehi," I said defiantly.
"Mujhe koi problem nehi hai, we'll just go back to the apartment and..."
"No, I want him to come here."
"Impossible. Woh kabhi nehi ayega yaha pe."
"Oh, I am sorry. He needs to show me, to make the effort, or no deal."
"And if I can't get him to come?"
"Then it's been nice knowing both of you," I concluded, refolding my arms to make sure I got my point across.
"Larkiya or unke nakhre," Abhijeet grumbled. Then after about a minute of thinking he sighed in defeat.
"Fine... par ek baat hai..."
"Kya?"
"Tumhare pas petrol hai kahi? My car ran out about a mile back and I couldn't find a petrol pump, the sat-navigation on my phone is not working."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"I was wondering how you got this soaked."
Abhijeet eventually got sorted and went back home to talk to Daya, with promises to return tomorrow. He also promised that if Daya dug his heels in and refused to come that he'd phone me to arrange something else. I didn't know what to expect. If Daya refused point blank to come to see me then I knew that his bond didn't run as deep as we'd all thought. Eventually we'd both get over each other and get on with our lives.
My heart was a constant blockade in my throat. I was sure that I looked as though I'd aged about ten years because of the lack of sleep I'd gotten the night before. When I woke up, it was a matter of counting the very seconds until Abhijeet appeared. I would glance at the clock, then glance at it again. It was moving so slowly that it almost seemed to be ticking backwards. He'd said that if he was coming, it would be after lunch sometime. But that sometime could be anything from about midday until midnight, knowing those CID men severely messed up biological clocks.
Nakul was unusually quiet. He had probably realised that today was one of those days where I wouldn't exactly welcome the camp and hyperactive portion of his personality. Any little whisper of a car engine and I was at the window, checking to see if it was Daya's monster of a jeep-thing. But it never was. I couldn't concentrate on television, it was impossible to even flick through a magazine and music just annoyed me. The other annoyance had, thankfully, been taken away. My parents had taken my brother's out for the day to give me space. There were no secrets kept from my mother, whether I wanted to or not.
I was about five minutes away from snapping completely when the unmistakeable big white jeep pulled up outside, so big that the whole room darkened slightly.
Up until then I'd thought I'd been nervous, but now was completely different. My heart felt as though it was going to shatter my ribs and jump out of my very chest it was beating so hard.
I went and stood behind the door, waiting with bated breath for the knock. I could hear them arguing the whole way up the path, which was only a matter of metres, but seemed like miles.
Nakul was standing in the doorway of the living room, staying a respectable distance away, giving me enough space to breathe. He smiled a reassuring smile and I knew that, whatever happened now, good or bad, Nakul was there for me.
The door knocked and I nearly pounced on the handle. Nakul cleared his throat loudly, halting my almost frantic actions. He held up a hand and counted down from five on his fingers. I knew this routine from whenever we'd have boyfriends calling. We'd always be so eager to open the door straight away, but never wanted to appear too keen, so we'd count down.
The five seconds nearly suffocated me, but when the last finger came down, I opened the door.
I didn't really know what to expect, but when I opened the door I was greeted with the top of Daya's head as he stared at his shoes like a scolded child. Abhijeet was glaring exasperatedly at his best friend's back.
There was an awkward silence. I'd never been in a situation like this. Did I ask him to say sorry, or did he say it, or did I invite him in first. My brain was going crazy, but the only thing that I was getting from it was static. Abhijeet kicked Daya in the shin.
"Abe bol," he hissed.
Daya lifted his head slightly, and I caught the sight of his two molten toffee eyes looking at me from under a sweaty forhead, his lips pursed. It made my head spin.
"Hi," he muttered, almost inaudibly.
"Abe tu Hi bolne aya hai yah ape... Yar Daya don't act silly now," his best friend growled.
It was probably a matter of seconds, but it seemed like Daya took forever to finally find his voice.
"I..." he began, but it disappeared into a croak. He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry."
Now it was my turn. He was here, and he was sorry, but I just wanted to be sure he knew what for.
"Sorry for what?" I asked, folding my arms.
He looked a little surprised, turning around to glance at Abhijeet for help to the question.
"Mene kaha tha yeh thora difficult hoga," Abhijeet sneered, "Koi bari baat nehi hai, keep going."
"Sorry for... for leaving you at the airport and... and for not supporting you and... for making you leave..." he mumbled to his shoes.
"Anything else?"
He looked up at me again and it took all my strength to stand still and not rush forward to embrace him.
His eyes were glassy and serious.
"I miss you, I love you Jaan!" he whimpered.
And that was all it took for me to crack. I half jumped, half stepped out of my door and threw my arms around his neck, hugging his steel body so tight that I thought I might break something, not him but my glasses, maybe.
"Apology accepted," I said, my words muffled by the shoulder I'd pressed my face against.
"I love you," he whispered to my hair as he gripped his arms around me in an equally tight hold, "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," I replied, "I know you are and..." I stopped as I let go enough so that I could move my head around so that I was looking him straight in the face, instead of speaking to his defined shoulder.
"I love you too."
We kissed and it felt like the first drink of water after a week in the Sahara desert.
"Thank GODD," Abhijeet sighed with momentous relief somewhere behind us, "Ab rona band kar de mere bhai, bhabhi bhil mil gayi!"
Daya broke off to glare at his best friend.
"Me rota nehi hu."
"Tu rota nehi hai? Chup reh, mene jhela hai tujhe pure time, ya to bureau me ya fir tere ghar me, sale mera bhi khana peena sona sab kar diya tha tune apne chakkar me."
Daya turned back to me.
"Me tumhe rondhlu lagta hu kya?"
"Occasionally," I admitted with a giggle. He rolled his eyes and then with a smile kissed my forehead. Then, he rested his cheek against it and I felt so content, I would have happily stayed like that for the rest of my life.
"Ha to, dosto mujhe pata hi tum dono ka abhi bonding ritual jo bhi hai woh hua hai, isiliye kissing wagerah, yuh khule me... Nehi yeh bhot romantic hai me bhi manta hu, par kya hai ki Mumbai me he, Amsterdam to nehi hai na! Log ulta seedha samjhenge, ACP sir ko pata chala to..." Abhijeet pointed out.
We both ignored him. That is, until Nakul bounded out of the spot in the house where he had been restraining himself and put his arms around us in a group hug.
"Yay!" he cried, "Everyone happy again!"
I only realised after getting Daya back how much I had missed him. It was a slightly scary thought, and I certainly didn't ever want to be parted from him again, no matter what the reason. Was this what people called love? Was this what people talked about in all those famous books and movies and songs? Because if it was, I could see what all the fuss was about.
Daya and I had had our fair share of dramatic up's and down's now, so much so that we had to be unstoppable now. You know what it is they say:
Third time lucky.
