Loose Anchor
Ananya
‘So, you came clean to me because you were worried about Rivaayat. Not because you owed me the truth.’
My vision blurred. I turned my face into the bedsheet, overwhelmed by the whirlpool churning within me.
‘If you had just told me the truth sooner ... I would have put a stop to it. I would have protected you.’
A shuddering breath tore through me.
‘But it’s too late now. I can never trust you again.’
I knew we were doomed from the beginning. I had fucked up so thoroughly that we never stood a chance.
If I had ended this charade with Rekha when I saw who Jai really was …
If I had told Jai the truth the day Rekha dismissed me after I told her he was good …
If I had trusted him, trusted us, we’d still be together.
If only.
I had a million chances to tell Jai. But I was so afraid of losing him and the career that didn’t even exist, that I’d destroyed everything.
A broken sob squeezed out of my throat. I curled under the blanket, fists pressed to my chest, trying to hold the shards of my heart together.
‘Good morning.’ My bed dipped as Rhea sat next to me.
I bit down on my knuckle, willing myself to be silent. If she thought I was asleep, she’d go away.
‘I’ve made poha. The way your mom makes it.’
Just leave me alone.
Suddenly, the blanket was pulled off me. Sunlight hit me, and I flinched, scrunching my eyes shut. I wiped my tear-stained face with the back of my hand.
‘I also have chai boiling on the stove.’ She was trying to sound cheerful, but the pity swimming in her eyes gave her away.
‘I’m not hungry.’ I tried to pull the blanket over my head, but she had a firm grip on it.
‘Today is Monday.’
Rhea’s words cut through my fog of grief. My stomach lurched. Monday meant work. Work meant Jai. The world outside my room still existed, and I had to walk in it. Face the wreckage of my actions.
Images of hurt shining in his eyes, the blind fury contorting his face, and the moment he realised the depth of my betrayal came crashing over me. My throat tightened, but no sound came out. Just the steady, suffocating press of dread.
‘He …’ My breath came in short pulls. A fresh set of tears slipped down my cheeks. ‘He hates me. He won’t want me there. I don’t even know if I still have a job.’
‘It’s something you’ll have to go and find out,’ she said softly.
I swallowed hard.
As if on autopilot, my body moved on its own as I went through a list of tasks: brush, eat, shower, dress. The world felt oddly far away. I was so detached, my body wasn’t my own.
On the way to the office, everything reminded me of him.
A dosa stand.
A man wearing a suit.
Even this route to work. It was the same road Jai and I took every time he came to drop me off at home.
My eyes stung as I climbed the flight of stairs.
‘Ananya,’ Manisha, the receptionist, called.
I steadied myself, then turned to her as casually as I could. ‘Yeah?’
She smiled, but it felt off.
My stomach twisted in knots.
She lifted a box from under the marble desk and placed it on top.
That’s … that’s my plant. My bottle of water that I kept here. My emergency stash of chocolates. My bottle of perfume. My life here, packed away.
‘I … I’m sorry. But you’ve been let go.’
The words dropped like a bomb.
Air exited my lungs in a silent whoosh. I knew it was a possibility. In fact, I’d expected it. But it still felt like a punch to the gut.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
‘I need to talk to Jai. I …’ If I just saw him again, explained myself again, more clearly, he’d understand. Maybe even forgive me.
‘I can’t let you inside,’ she said.
She didn’t need to say the words for me to know – she’d been instructed to hold me off at the door.
I picked up my box and dashed down the stairs.
The door opened before I even reached for it.
Jai.
Emotions flared bright in his eyes, and I saw the man who’d once kissed me like I was his oxygen.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. The next second, a mask of indifference slipped over his face. Then, he brushed past me as if I were a stranger.
I stumbled out, flagged down a taxi and collapsed in the backseat. Burying my face in my hands, I cried until everything ached and my eyes burned.
My phone rang loudly. I fumbled it out. My vision was blurry, but I could make out the name flashing on the screen.
My face twisted with anguish as I struggled to answer. ‘Maa,’ I choked out.
‘Arey! Ananya, what happened?’ her voice sharp with panic. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘I …’ My hand clamped over my mouth, muffling the sobs. ‘I miss you.’
‘We miss you too, beta,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘Take a leave from that job of yours. Come home for a few days.’
Home was an anchor I’d pulled free with my own hands. And now, stripped of everything, I realised how starved I was for the comfort of family.
‘Yes. I’ll come home.’
The next flight out to Banaras that wasn’t outrageously priced was in three days.
I finished Navya’s sari the morning I was supposed to leave. It was part sari, part gown. The skirt draped in layers of iridescent chiffon: storm blue, muted bronze and antique rose. The corseted blouse was asymmetrical and sharp. It was my best work.
I’d bought most of the raw materials at home last week so I could work on it in the evenings. The parts I didn’t have … I improvised in the design and hoped she liked it.
For three days, I lived and breathed the sari. I only stopped when Rhea dropped by, forcing me to take breaks to eat, drink water and sleep when I was exhausted.
If I kept busy enough, I wouldn’t fall apart. I wouldn’t call or text Jai. I wouldn’t show up at his door, begging for forgiveness. God knew that was never going to happen. I was sparing him the hurt and myself the humiliation.
After packing my carry-on, I didn’t have the time to give it to Navya.
‘Can you please give this to the receptionist at HoA?’ I asked Rhea, handing her the box I’d packed the sari in. ‘Tell her to give it to Suraina ma’am.’
‘Yes,’ Rhea murmured, her eyes dropping to my suitcase. ‘When are you coming back?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t have a return ticket?’
Return to what? I didn’t have anything or anyone to come back to anymore. I shook my head.
‘Are you … going to come back?’ she asked softly.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, my voice thick. ‘I don’t have a job, Rhea. And I am pretty sure I won’t get one either, especially not in fashion.’
‘Don’t let them take Mumbai away from you, Ananya.’ She shook her head. ‘This is your home.’
‘I’m going to be late.’
‘You have to come back. If you don’t, I’ll drag you here myself.’ She swiped a thumb across my wet cheek before wrapping me in her fierce embrace. ‘God, what am I going to do without you?’
I hugged her back. ‘I’ll miss you too.’