• ADVIKA •

Yet, I couldn't help but yell and wail as I heard the song's outro.

“Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time, how could you not know, baby?
You belong with me, you belong with me

You belong with me
Have you ever thought just maybe
You belong with me?
You belong with me.”

The back of my mind had noticed the sound of someone— possibly Aarvi— closing the door at the living room as white noise was developing into my ears so loud that I couldn't hear myself crying.

I saw Aarvi entering the room with her so wide while she sat next to me and asked, “All okay?”

“No, Aarvi. I lost my peace,” I was wailing already as I placed my head on her shoulder, thus dampening her red shirt's sleeve, while noticing that Spotify chose to play Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles— the song he sang for me on my birthday out of more than 100 million songs on the app.

I was right. I knew that I was going to lose my peace out of the guilt of not giving him a proper goodbye kiss. Fuck them, I didn't even give him say goodbye to him. I left him high and dry and came to my world. He must have expected me to give him my last hug. Even Maahi had hinted a goodbye in their last meeting. But, me? I left him in the middle of our last argument. He must be hating me for this.

He should hate me; not only for this but for all that I did to him.

Just then, I heard my mobile ping faintly. Aarvi walked up to my mobile, paused the song, and informed me, “Aadya Chatterjee had sent you a text.”

“Read.” All I could manage was a mere whisper of that simple four-letter-word.

“Hello, Miss Bansal! Glad to hear that from you— sorry for your loss, by the way. And… I'm touched by the way you express your concern towards the characters of my world. Hence, I'm sharing my plans with you.

1. Mehak is not dead yet. She will come back to Ved. And, her baby is safe as well.
2. Ishaan will rebuild his house. Sources of money? A huge amount of money from the lottery, some money borrowed from his friends, and some in his savings account.
3. Nobody killed Mrs Ahuja. She had a cardiac arrest while walking on the lawn that night.
4. I'll ensure the police apologise to Ishaan for all the chaos that had happened.
5. Also, I'll ensure Ishaan will apologise to Ved (who will survive as well) for telling the truth about your world (I know I was being selfish; but this is also a plan to restore orderliness in my world).

Feel free to ask your queries. But otherwise, I hope this is our last text conversation. And again, thank you so much for allowing me to create! Your sacrifice will be remembered forever. Thank you!” Looking back at me, who sat puzzled about how to react to this text, Aarvi asked, “Shall I stay outside?”

“Are you free now?” I whispered, my tone croaky due to crying incessantly while she nodded a subtle yes. Receiving her response, I patted on the place next to me, gesturing at her to sit next to me. She sat as I asked to do so while I lied on her lap and let out my silent tears until my eyes dried up and I went into blackness in which I had wished to be dead.

***

THREE MONTHS LATER…

Aarvi took me to the couch forcefully, made me sit on it, went to the kitchen only to come back with a plate of aloo paratha and curd. Sitting closely next to me, she tore a piece of paratha, dipped it into the curd puddle, and placed it near my mouth, commanding, “Eat,” while I nodded a no. Turning herself to face me, she raised her voice, “You didn't eat food or drink water for two days. Do you fucking get that? You'll die, bitch!”

“That's fine,” I murmured, looking down at my fingers.

“It's not fine.” She lowered her volume as though to beg me. “See, I know I'm not fit to advise you. I know you're not in a state to listen to lectures. But… Listen to this for once. Remember this when you feel like doing so. I know what has happened to you is a big loss. Yes, you were forced to lose your man after seeing him narrowly escape death. I know it's unfortunate. But… Pausing your life for that guy is just so foolish. It may look nice in books and movies, but unfortunately, it's real life. You can't sit in a room and cry forever. You have a life beyond Ishaan.”

Noticing me flinching at the mention of his name, she paused and questioned in a louder tone, “How long will you flinch at the mention of his name?” Lowering her tone yet again, she continued, “He was just a chapter in your book, Advika. Move on. You can't just sit on Page One and wait for your happily-ever-after. To know your happily-ever-after, you need to turn the pages. Read the lines. Know what life's having in store for you. Come for the last page.

“And, he's not the only character in your book. You have your parents. You have your friends. You have me. Live for us. Live for yourself. Love yourself. Treat yourself. If you could not love yourself, then— I'm sorry, Advika— but nobody will love you. Not even your parents. But, to start loving yourself, you need to eat this first,” she concluded, placing the piece of paratha near my mouth. “If you wish to move on— not for us but for you— accept this piece from me.”

“I have a question,” I murmured, yet in a tone slightly louder than before. “Were you never angry with me? Like, I'm existing here as the epitome of foolishness. Aren't you mad at me?”

“I was. When I came to know about you and Ishaan. But… When I imagined that stuff from your shoes, I felt that your actions were justified. But then, I felt the anger rise again when I see you like this. I wasn't angry at you but at myself. Everyday I see you heartbroken, I couldn't help but ask myself what I was doing instead of helping you move on. I scorned myself for not being your best friend and being so distant. I'm angry at myself this moment for taking time to realise that you just needed time to vent out. But, this is just too late. Step out, dear. This world— your world— is waiting to see your flowery side.”

I could not help but open my mouth wide for her and the piece of paratha on her hand as a glimmer of hope for her. With that, she fed me in silence and I accepted them in the same silence.

Hoping I would move on finally.

***

A YEAR AND A HALF LATER…

“But, I haven't moved on yet!” I sighed out of exasperation as I was forced to look at Aayush Menon— a twenty-four-year old postgraduate who looked like a model in that picture coated with glaringly tinted filters— whose Bumble profile was on my Bumble account, which was actually run by Aarvi.

Though I promised myself to move on when Aarvi gave me that long lecture with paratha and curd eighteen months ago, I realised that it was easier said than done.

I realised it when I couldn't read books the way I used to.
I realised it when I couldn't re-watch Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara the way I used to.
I realised it when I flinched as I passed through The Ahluwalia's Abode.
I realised when I couldn't relish Naan, Paneer Tikka, and Chicken Breast the way I used to.
I realised it when I couldn't enjoy listening to Watermelon Sugar and You Belong With Me the way I used to.
I realised it when I could unsee rainforests which reminded me of a familiar green spot.
I realised it when my senses forget to function at the mention of the name of the person who was the best chapter of my book and the king of my heart.

“I know. But, what if Aayush was a better person? You wouldn't know what's in a book unless you open it and read it.” Aarvi tried to convince me a ton much calmer than mine.

“I don't know, Aarvi,” I groaned while looking sideways at Professor Roy, our Corporate Law professor who was munching the sandwich at one go.

“By the way, I wanted to tell you this. I read that book last night. You know which book I'm talking about, right?” The second book we had ever discussed in a seriously serious tone was Call It What You Want, the sequel of You Belong With Me.

It has been three months and seven days since Aadya Chatterjee released Call It What You Want. It had been three months and three days since I logged out of Instagram, telling Aarvi, “Tell me when the hype for that book vanishes,” as I couldn't handle the overbearing hype from the fellow Bookstagrammers who had read that book.

“Good,” I murmured— which was all I could manage— while looking down at my mobile as though I was so obsessed with Aayush Menon.

“Read it for yourself, Advika.”

“You were the one who asked me to move on.” I looked up at her and sighed out of exasperation. Like, who was she kidding?

“Yes. I did. And, I still do. But… It has something you deserve to know. I mean, everyone knows about it except you. Read that book for once. Please.” I couldn't help but ponder over the reason why she— out of all the other people— was asking me to revisit a memory of my past.

But before I could substitute silence with my sound, the mechanic Bell did my part, forcing me to keep up the silence.

***

FOURTEEN HOURS LATER…

The clock struck midnight the very moment my laptop flashed open the PDF version of Call It What You Want. Reducing the brightness level of my laptop to twenty-five percent, I scrolled the pages and reached the Dedication part, which made me frown at it and suspect my eyesight. Increasing the brightness level to hundred percent and zooming in the page to hundred and eighteen percent, I mouthed the dedication Aadya Chatterjee had written.

To AB…
The man is yours.

***

Is it time for... New beginnings?

Keep wondering, peeps! This was all I had written so far. I'll write the remaining three chapters + epilogue and upload them within this year. For real! To know what's after "invisible string"...

Stay tuned, peeps!