“You’re my summer,” she said once.
“Who is the winter?” I had responded, almost automatically. It had torn her apart, making her shy away and cocoon into herself for days after that.
I knew from experience that she was sensitive. More importantly, how was she living without me? The worry was nagging me, clutching at my throat.
She was a weird combination of many personality traits – obviously not fitting into any of the zodiac stereotypes. She had been a soul filled enigma, irrevocably colouring a few chapters in the otherwise monochrome book of my life in vibrant shades.
I had known she was keeping things from me since day 1. But I had been too comfortable in my own blindness to think hard about it. I knew I was not getting the complete truth but I couldn’t leave her for that.
She was the risk I adored, a failure I’d cherish and a bitch I’d worship.
Every time I touched my Royal Enfield, wanting to escape the shit that was my life with a long morning drive coasting along the ECR, I would remember him. My Raghu – someone I’ll never forget in my lifetime. He was my serendipity. He was the one I had wanted to meet, fall in love with and live happily ever after together. His innocence and care had been unadulterated and unfiltered and even his kisses would seem gentle, giving and wanting simultaneously, and adding a piquancy to the forbidden platter we were relishing.
Staying miles apart, yet sensing his presence almost close to me – it was magical and unique. In a matter of months, our lives had tangibly tangled, messily interlaced. Letting him go was the hardest thing I had done. Of all the things I hate about my life, this goodbye stands at the top of the list.
Our life together was knit by moments rather than the ‘forever and after’ promise.
The usual spot where he dropped me and waited until I had safely entered my house
His cold stares at the creepy perverts who objectified me sexually.
The way he pulled me closer to avoid the oncoming traffic.
I had fallen in love with him a little more every time he had done something like that. I was practically in another world while I was with him.
His entry in my life changed two things – I no longer felt sick and lonely. I finally knew what it meant to be with a constant companion, for he had always been there either physically or emotionally, running in my mind on a loop like a one song playlist. Secondly, he had brought back my feeling of trust in men. The transition from ‘How will I trust anyone ever again’ to ‘Why would I even think of trusting anyone else?’ had been easy for me with him beside me.
It had been a given that I would never love anyone again but he had picked me up from the hard ground where I had fallen and shattered into pieces – nursing me back to health, carrying me around like the most fragile, gentle thing ever.
P.S – The above is an excerpt from my new release – Dirty Martini. Grab your copy from Amazon If you’ve missed reading the Prologue, please do read now 🙂