CHAPTER 41
ANIKA
My head feels like a balloon.
A wobbly, swaying, colorful balloon.
I blink through the Holi madness around me, the blinding splash of red and green in the air, the chaos of laughter and screams, and the endless smear of color on every face.
There’s music pounding from somewhere near the pool.
Or is it inside my skull? I can't tell. Everything is spinning. I don’t know what was in that drink.
Someone said it was thandai. But they didn’t say bhaang thandai.
I remember Aarav.
He left. No—he said he was getting me water. I squint around, but I don’t see him. Just a thousand colors dancing in front of me. People with smeared faces and water guns, people dancing, people laughing, and people flying into each other like it’s the last Holi on earth.
And no, Aarav. Maybe he left. Again.
My chest tightens, stupidly, and I press my palm over it, like it’ll stop this strange ache from crawling up my throat.
“Anikaa!” someone shouts near my ear and throws red powder into my hair. I yelp. “You look like a tomato now!” a familiar voice says. Aditi? Or Siddhant? I don't know. I wave at them and walk... or stumble... away.
I push through the crowd like a little paper boat in a stormy river. Everything is loud. Too loud. My thoughts are louder.
Why hasn’t he come back? He does this, doesn’t he?
Shows up... stays... and disappears before I can even breathe. I feel tears prickling the back of my eyes, but I shake my head. No crying in public. That’s the rule.
I trip over someone’s foot and laugh. “Sorry, sorry, my bad!” I say, and the guy nods, smiling, dancing away.
People are happy. They are allowed to be. I was happy too… just a few minutes ago. I was with him. He was smiling at me. He let me color him first. After twelve years. Twelve freaking years.
I clutch the side of a chair to balance myself. The world is tilting. Or maybe I’m just tilting. I don’t know. My head feels floaty and light and sad all at once.
I find my way into the house, escaping the noise and heat. The music dulls behind closed windows, but the thudding in my chest doesn’t stop.
The living room is empty.
Thank God.
I plop onto a chair, my limbs heavy. Oh no, will the chair get dirty? I shake my head. Nah! I don't care. My body finally stops moving, but my thoughts don’t.
They never do. Especially not today.
I rest my elbows on my knees, bury my face in my hands, and just sit there, breathing hard. I try to blink the moisture away from my lashes. It doesn’t work. My eyes burn. My throat stings. My heart—well, it’s already in shreds.
“I hate everything,” I mutter to the universe. The words slip out like a whisper, but they feel heavy. Real.
I lean back and stare at the ceiling. “What the hell am I doing with my life?” I ask no one in particular. “I’m married to my best friend. The one person I waited for. The one person I never stopped loving. And I’m going to lose him again.”
The words are slow and messy. But they’re true. My vision blurs again. I press the heel of my palm into my eye and hiccup.
“I missed him so much, you know?” I say to the empty room. “I missed him for years. And now he’s back. And he’s mine. But with an expiry date.”
My mouth twists bitterly. “Six. Bloody. Months.” I think I hate the number six. Ironic, my birthday is on 6 June. A laugh slips through my lips.
I hiccup again, this one turning into a sob.
“My life is a mess,” I sniff. “My job pays peanuts. Is it even a job?" I frown. I mean, I am just a freelancing graphic designer. "I can’t even help my own mother with her medicines properly. I depend on Aarav for that." I shake my head; that's so shameful. "I smile in front of everyone like I’ve got it under control. But I don’t. I don’t even know if I’ll have a place to live after this contract ends. ” I mean, my mother will take me in, but that house also belongs to my so-called husband.
I stare ahead, my vision a blur of pastels and pain.
“I married him thinking—thinking maybe something would change. That maybe he’ll say something.
Do something." My eyebrows furrow. "Wait, didn't we hate each other in the beginning?
" I can't remember, "Whatever, but the fact is he’s still hiding behind that stupid contract.” I exclaim.
I pause. And then I whisper it out loud, like a secret I’ve never dared to speak before. “I love him. Still. Like a fool.”
The tears come harder now. I curl into myself on the chair, hugging my knees, letting the sobs roll out like waves I’ve been holding back since forever. I want him to say it’s more than a contract. I want him to look at me and say he can’t imagine a life without me.
But he doesn’t. He hasn’t. And maybe he never will.
“Anika?” My name breaks through the air like a whisper, soft and concerned. I freeze. It’s Maa. I don’t turn around as shame curls in my guts.
“Anika, what do you mean?” She questions again, walking closer.
I quickly wipe my face, but I know I look like a disaster. My cheeks are streaked with color and tears. My hair’s a nest, probably. My voice is slurred.
Too late to pretend.
“Maa,” I sob and stand up suddenly, stumbling straight into her arms. “Maa!”
She holds me instantly, catching me like only a mother can. Her arms are warm and safe, and they make everything worse and better at the same time.
“You know what, Maa?” I sniff. “I don’t like your son.”
“What?” she says, shocked, still patting my back gently.
I pull away and pout. “I love Aaru. But I don’t like him.”
She asks softly and rubs my back. “Why, beta?”
“Because he doesn’t love me back,” I say, words tumbling out in one breath. “He-he..." I stutter, "He made me sign a contract, Maa. A contract!” I yell.
Maa stiffens. “What contract?”
“A stupid, dumb, idiotic marriage contract,” I slur, raising my hand and counting fingers slowly.
“Only six months. That means…” I do the math again, squinting.
“Only two months left.” Maa looks at me like she has seen a ghost. Well, yes, your son was scary that day when he pulled out that agreement.
“Anika,” she whispers again, her voice suddenly sharp. “Are you saying the truth?”
I nod. “Cross my heart,” I say and then giggle, though nothing is funny. “Not really, I wouldn’t cross anything right now. My heart’s already in too many pieces.”
She pulls away slightly and stares at me. There’s something in her expression I can’t place. Worry? Shock? Anger?
“What have you guys done?” She whispers more to herself than to me. I frown at her.
I blink, confused. “I don’t know.”
Maa holds me close again, and I let myself melt into her. My heart feels like someone’s squeezing it from the inside. And Maa… Maa’s arms are the only place I can fall apart.
“I just wanted to be with him, Maa,” I mumble into her shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d fall this hard again. Or maybe I never stopped falling.”
She doesn’t say anything.
She just holds me tighter. I close my eyes and breathe; the bhaang is still spinning my thoughts, but some part of me—deep inside—knows I’m not going to remember everything clearly tomorrow. I hope I don't because I think I flirted a lot with Aarav.