Chapter 43
Amountain of clothes surrounded Manisha, each item carrying a piece of her past—memories she was now ready to let go of.
It was time for a fresh start. She wanted to shed the weight of her old life and move forward.
After an evening spent with her grandmother, Manisha realized she couldn’t keep avoiding Rohit, just as she couldn’t keep hiding from her life in London.
The latter mess she had a plan for. She had remembered Deena’s suggestion from before, to resell her post-breakup purchases to recoup some of the money.
It hadn’t been a viable option back when she thought she was down to the wire to summon fifty thousand dollars out of thin air.
But since her follow-up with Dr. Rocky, she’d gone back to the idea a few times in her head.
Manisha called Deena to ask for her help selling most of her belongings; Deena was so excited, she came straight over. For the next few hours, they sorted through Manisha’s clothes, posting them in batches on online marketplaces.
“You know, I saw something similar in a Netflix documentary—an ex selling her deceitful boyfriend’s stuff online to get back the money she lost to his dishonesty,” Deena said, boxing up a pair of Jimmy Choo mules.
Manisha sighed. “Why does my life always end up sounding like some dramatic reality show or doc?”
She cast a wistful glance at the piles surrounding her, a pang of sadness in her chest. She’d imagined giving so many of these outfits and bags to her children one day, but that dream now seemed like a distant memory.
Deena stopped and reached over to place a hand over Manisha’s. “You sure you’re feeling alright about this?”
“I am. I think selling this stuff is a good start, and then I’ll figure things out in London,” she replied with another sigh.
“And what about Rohit? Are you sure you can’t talk to him?”
“One thing at a time, Deena, remember? Besides, I don’t think so. Even if I could, where would we start?” She pulled her hand back and returned to folding.
“Manisha, I met him for a coffee, and he just looked so sad and hurt…He said he was sorry for hiding his true identity.”
“I know, he’s sent me emails saying the same thing,” Manisha said, snapping a shirt in the air maybe a little too forcefully. Each one of his notes was like a slice to her heart. “I just don’t think I can go there again.”
“Rohit’s not a bad guy, you know that. So what if he called himself Sunil?
We Indians usually have a few names anyway.
Deena, Derinder…Isha, Manisha.” Deena shrugged.
“Does any of it really matter? So you told him you were the site’s admin.
The important thing is you two found your way to each other, right? ”
“Yeah, we may have found each other in this huge dating world…but we also found each other through deception.”
“But no one’s pretending anymore. Everything’s out in the open now. I know you both went through tough times with your exes betraying you—”
“Exactly, Deena.” Manisha’s tone was growing sharper.
“But it’s not the same thing. Nowhere near the same thing.”
“It is to me. I don’t feel right starting a relationship this way. He was right—the site was fake and so were Sunil and Isha.”
“This isn’t a court of law—you don’t have to be so legal about everything. Sometimes, you can break the rules.”
“That’s all I’ve done, Deena. I need to draw the line somewhere, because, for the last few weeks, I haven’t drawn any lines. And look where it’s gotten me. I’ve forgotten who I am.”
“Manisha, I checked the Admin folder. There are dozens of emails in there! Raw, honest, authentic conversations between two real people. There’s nothing fake about the words in those emails. They’ll remind you of who you truly are.”
“I love you, Deena, but I have to love myself, too. And that means protecting my heart. Now, are you going to help me or not?” She shot her a stern look that clearly communicated she was done discussing Rohit.
Deena threw her hands in the air, resigned. “Yes, I am! There’s just been so much mourning going on. You and Rohit and now these clothes.”
“Well, it’s about time. And with the money I make from selling these, I can finally start saving to freeze my eggs.”
They continued to work tirelessly, sorting, photographing, and listing item after item. By 11 p.m. they had just one small pile of accessories left to post.
“Why don’t you go home, I can finish up here,” Manisha said, clocking Deena’s drooping eyelids.
“Are you sure? Here, just let me get this last scarf—” Deena cut herself off with a squeal.
“Manisha, come look! Someone wants to buy all three of your Louis Vuitton purses!”
“All three?” Manisha scrabbled over to get a good look at the laptop screen.
“That’s nearly eight thousand dollars if the offer goes through!”
“Oh my god, accept it! Quick, before they try to take it back!”
When the confirmation screen loaded showing the sale, they both jumped up, shrieking. Manisha threw her arms around Deena, giving her a fierce hug.
“It isn’t fifty thousand, but it’s a really good start, Manisha,” Deena said, squeezing her tightly.
“I know.” Manisha eased back, grinning. “Hey, can we calculate the projected total if everything we’ve posted so far sells for, say, seventy percent of what we listed them for? I get that’s unlikely, but just to see?”
Deena scrolled through their postings on the marketplace site, quickly adding up the estimated earnings. “Twenty-seven thousand dollars!” she exclaimed.
“Deena, we’re not even halfway through my wardrobe yet…There’s still everything back in London” Manisha said, overwhelmed with gratitude. “This is exactly what I needed. I don’t know how to even begin to thank you.”
“I know how you can thank me,” Deena said, a sly grin curling her lips.
“How?”
“By giving Rohit a chance,” Deena teased gently.
Manisha raised a brow. “Go home, Deena.”
With a cackle, Deena gave her one final hug for the night. “I’m proud of you, Manisha,” she whispered, before taking her leave.
Alone in her now-tidier room, Manisha felt, for the first time in a long while, in control, empowered, and excited as she envisioned a more secure future.