Chapter 21 Reyansh Carter
Reyansh Carter
“How much can a person screw up in one lifetime?” is all I would like to know. There must be a statistic, and if there’s not one, I am quite sure that I would be the one to build it and, unfortunately, top it.
I had promised Aisha that I wouldn’t miss it this time. She was sure that I would. While she didn’t say it in words, I could read it in her eyes. The uncertainty, the doubt. The fear.
I was determined to make sure that I proved her wrong this time.
When I came to the office this morning, I was hell-bent on finishing all my meetings first.
Until my pain in the ass of a best friend decided to show up unannounced and disrupt my schedule and all of my meetings.
Aarav came in to invite me and Aisha to one of his influencer-invite-only fake wedding parties. These days it is common, and since he has no date this year—which is a shame, and I will always hold it over his head—he wanted us to go with him so he doesn’t feel alone.
I think he might be behind something and making me and Aisha spend more time together alone. It kind of reminded me of the time in university he would forcefully arrange for us to spend alone time together. Until I asked her out, of course. I wouldn’t leave her alone after that.
I was attached to her like a leech. I was just a hopelessly devoted, obsessed man in love with his gorgeous girlfriend.
He should have left after giving me the invitation, but he didn’t. Rambling on about some other influencer who he has been competing with the past few years. It is all childish in my opinion.
In the midst of all this, he made me late to my meeting with our biggest client of this year, the famous multimillionaire also known as the king of media—Dominic Wolfe.
He wants to work with us in expanding his offices in New York, and I have always wanted to work with people who matched my ambition, and he is the best person for that.
My lateness made our meeting stretch out for long, and in the midst of it all, I forgot about our family night tonight.
I didn’t waste a single second after that. I drove back as fast as I could. All the while I kept thinking how much of a fool I am and how much more I can possibly fuck up.
Whenever I think about making it up to Aisha, about not hurting her so much, I end up doing far more than just hurting her.
* * *
I tell myself it is okay, that I can make it up to her, that maybe she will understand. But I know that I have lost the right to ask her to understand me now. She has all the right to be mad at me.
I enter our house, and I can faintly hear the music from the end credits of “Jab We Met.” I gulp past the guilt as I walk in slowly. My mom looks at me, and her eyes throw daggers at me. Aisha doesn’t look at me, though I know she is aware of my presence.
She can sense my presence even with her eyes closed. That is how attuned to each other we are.
“I am sorry I am late,” I announce to the three ladies, and that is when she looks at me. I had expected to see some sort of disappointment in her eyes, anger, and resentment, but to my surprise, I find nothing.
And that hurts me more than anything else.
“Why are you late?” The question she should be asking is asked by my mother.
“I got caught up in work,” I tell the same old excuse. What I want to say is much more than that, but I want her to be the one listening.
She shakes her head, and that’s when Maa comes up. I look at her apologetically, but she shakes her head, her eyes pointing towards Aisha.
“You should have let us know,” is all she says before grabbing Mom’s hand and taking her away from the scene.
Aisha’s face comes into view, and I finally look at everything. The half-eaten food, the soft hum of the movie player, the blankets that now lay lazily, and most importantly, the distance between us.
In our home, we stand apart from each other. When we used to be standing together, side by side.
Now, we stand at such a huge distance apart that I don’t know how to bridge it.
“I am sorry, Aisha.” I start walking towards her as she starts to clean up the space. She doesn’t even spare me a look, and I am practically begging her to look at me. To say something to me.
Her silence and indifference hurt me more than any words could.
“I know this is not the first time I have done this,” I continue, following her as she keeps the used plates in the sink.
“But I have a fair reason this time. I should have informed you, I know, but I just got so caught up in things. Once I found out how incredibly late I was, I came as fast as I could.”
She doesn’t say anything, choosing to go back into the hall to fold the blankets and make up the couch perfectly.
The couch was the place we used to spend our nights at when we first moved in together. Each day she would pick one movie of her liking, mostly one of her Bollywood rom-coms, because I can’t say no to her and because when it comes to movies, my taste is bland.
Plus, I enjoyed looking at her in awe of all the fictional characters. It filled my chest with happiness I can never deliver in words.
Now, it looks as messed up as we both are.
“Aisha,” I plead, my voice nearly begging. “Please say something. Look at me, once. I know you are mad at me, and rightfully so, but—”
“I am not mad at you, Reyansh,” she says, looking at me, and I can tell from the look on her face that she is not even lying.
“I am not even disappointed. You got caught up in work; it was important, and you couldn’t inform any of us.
I know. I understand. I have heard the same thing over and over again so many times that I am sure I can repeat these words in my sleep.
So, when I say I understand, I mean it.”
Her words are laced with hurt she won’t let come to the surface because I have lost the right to do so. I have lost the right to be there for her, and I can’t even redeem myself at this point.
She gives me one last look before walking towards our room, and I am left thinking about what to do now.
How should I apologize? What can I do to make up to her? All of this makes me wonder how many times she has felt this way and how many times she has buried her feelings inside to not make me feel like the total loser I am.
I follow her in, shutting the door behind as she walks into the washroom, not even sparing me a glance.
I hate myself more than anyone could at the moment. More than she can hate me at the moment.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the love in her heart for me had fizzled out. Perhaps Aarav was right. It is a shock how she has still managed to stay with me. How she didn’t think about the divorce until now.
Because if I were in her place, I would have left a long time ago. I wouldn’t even have waited till three months, like our mothers have proposed.
I am both grateful and ashamed.
I unbutton my shirt, letting it open so I can breathe. All this anticipation is making me anxious. It would be so much better if she would yell at me.
But I guess it is a courtesy I no longer deserve.
When she finally does come out, she passes me by, and I get a whiff of her body wash.
“Aisha,” I say, and she looks at me. Her brown eyes look tired and exhausted, as if the weight of the world is weighing her down. When we got together, I had promised to ease her life. To take the weight of the world off her shoulders so that my girl could just live.
For a while, she did. Until I backed off like the little bitch that I am.
“Yes?” she asks.
I inch closer towards her and carefully take her hands in mine. She doesn’t say anything and doesn’t push me away, but the stiffness in her body gives away her feelings.
“I don’t only want to say I am sorry. I want you to know why I am.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I take it as my cue to go on. I don’t know if my truth would make any of a difference. But I want to stop repeating old patterns.
In the past, I would just say “sorry” and let it be. But she deserves more than just a plain sorry.
“When I first left for office, I had made sure that all of my meetings were short and scheduled on time. I didn’t want to be late this time.
I swear I didn’t plan on missing this too.
I know I have done it plenty of times in the past, and I am trying to be better.
But then Aarav showed up and distracted me. ”
“How? Did he give you a lap dance? How could he possibly distract you?”
I shake my head. Even when she is mad at me, she wouldn’t stop from shipping me and Aarav together.
“No,” I say. “God, no. He came to invite us both to a fake influencer-invite-only wedding party because he has no date this time. He wants us to accompany him, and when I asked him to leave, he didn’t.
He kept on rambling about some girl he doesn’t like who will be there, and she is apparently his competition in this whole influencer stuff. ”
I took a deep breath before moving on.
“I had a very important meeting with one of our biggest clients—Dominic Wolfe. They want us to expand their offices in New York, and I couldn’t have possibly delayed it or fucked it up considering we got a meeting with them after so long.
Because of Aarav, we got late to the meeting, which made it stretch out for longer than I thought it would.
And before I realized it, I was already late. ”
She looks me straight in the eyes, and I lay myself bare in front of her. I want her to know I am not lying. In fact, I need her to know that I am not lying. I would never do anything to hurt her. Intentionally.
“It still doesn’t excuse the fact that I let you down again. I am sorry. Please let me make it up to you.”
She stays silent, and I hold my breath, waiting for her response. I am ready for anything. Any kind of confrontation, hateful words. I will bear them like a knife to my chest. But I can’t bear her silence.
“I am not mad at you, Reyansh,” she says after a while, and I don’t think she is lying or saying this just to make me happy. “I am just disappointed, and not even for myself.”
She chuckles, and that sound should have made me happy. It would have if it were genuine, but this one comes out of pain that I keep on inflicting on her.
“I am disappointed for our mothers. They only come once in a while. The least you could have done was inform us. Just one text saying, “I am sorry. I will be late.” It doesn’t take more than a minute to type those words, Rey. But you never do. I am used to it. They are not.”
Shame fills my gut, and I can’t even look in her eyes without feeling like the worst person alive.
“I am sorry,” I say, holding eye contact with her no matter how difficult. “I am sorry that I couldn’t stick to my words once again. I know my words don’t hold any value if I don’t act on them. But I am truly trying, Aisha. If I could tear open my heart and show it to you, I would have.”
She nods, and it makes me wonder whether I truly deserve her — whether I truly deserve her understanding heart. I don’t think I do. But I will become the man who does, no matter how tough it may be. I will be the man who isn’t late, who doesn’t make her heart hurt the way I do now.
I will be the man she looks at not with pity in her eyes but with undying love.