• ADVIKA •

The evening when I was packing bags for my trip to Amalfi Coast, I heard the door knock from outside. I strolled in a superhuman speed and opened the door to welcome the five-feet-six tall owner of the house.

It was a five-feet-ish tall person, but not the owner.

“Hi, Fiorella!” I waved my hand and wore a welcoming grin to get rid of the hopelessness in my face.

“Hi!” She waved back with a grin that was exactly opposite of my fakeness. “Ummm… I have completed packing. So, I stepped in to see if you need any help.”

“Uh, no, thank you. I have almost completed packing.” I knew that it must be awkward for her, so I added, “But still, you can come inside if you want. I need someone to talk with.”

Breaking into a thankful chuckle, Fiorella stepped forward a little and asked, “So, shall I come in?”

I moved out of her path to the inside of Ishaan's room (which was where I found myself that morning) while she walked inside and made herself comfortable sitting on the bed with her legs folded.

“So, are you from India?” She dared to do the adventure nobody would wish to do with a stranger next to them.

“Well, yeah. You?” Out of all the modes, I chose the free-spirited mode in this particular conversation with my book boyfriend's housemaid.

“I'm from Tivoli, but came to Milan post marriage,” she replied. “How did you meet Signore?”

Ah, there goes Advika, shifting the gear from free-spirited to awkward mode.

“Well, I met Ishaan on Instagram.” Like, I can't go telling her that I knew him as my “book boyfriend”, a term which only God knows whether she is aware of or not.

“But, Ishaan left Instagram last year.”

Trust me, these are some of the handful of details which aren't mentioned in the book. One of the other signs that I was living in the time between You Belong With Me and its sequel.

Digging for make-believe lies in my brain while scratching the frontal region of my head, I replied, “Uh… Yeah, I was trying to tell that as well. So… The thing is that, ummm… I… Yeah. He left Instagram. I met him before he left Instagram. Then, we transitioned our texts as mails after he left Instagram.”

Mouthing an unbelievable “Oh,” Fiorella nodded her head while I added a question, my glance shifting to the seaweed green notice board. “Uh… I have a question. I'm not sure whether to ask it or not since it's about Ishaan.”

“Oh, sure! You can ask. I'm not surprised, though,” she murmured the last part that was heard by me, who had hearing power sharper than a snake.

“Well, I have seen his poems written on that notice board. And… Is there any girl in his life right now?” I emphasised “right now” in my sentence, because I don't want her to misinterpret, tell about Maahi, and boil my head hotter than lava.

“Yeah. He has one. I don't know who she is, but I'm sure that he is up with some girl.” She unleashed a mischievous grin and squinted her eyes, almost saying, “I know more than this, but I can't say,” without words.

“Okay.” I let out a sigh of disappointment and turned back to pack my bags. “Ummm… Fiorella. Who is Ishaan to you?”

“A brother from another mother. A son I wish I could have. A friend I will never have in another lifetime.” She smiled a nostalgic one and looked down while braiding her fingers. “Who is Ishaan to you?”

“The king of my heart” will be the best response, but no, I can't say that to her.

“Well… Ummm… A good friend for now. Maybe, a best friend in future.” Liar was who I was for then.

“Oh!” The way she exclaimed them explained that she wasn't convinced, and I don't give a fuck about that. Who cares if she was convinced or not? Not me for sure. “Fine, Advika. You get ready soon. I'll be back. See you!”

Letting out a “Please, get the fuck out of this place” smile, I led her to the entrance and let her give me the freedom while she closed the door.

Landing on the bed with a thump and lying on it, I sighed as if I was back from a war and said to myself, “How will you manage the rest of the week, sweetheart?”

Shit! “Sweetheart” is Harsh's. And, I don't want to remember that guy when I'm technically with my book boyfriend.

***

THREE HOURS LATER…

It was nine in the night while we were around the outskirts of Bologna in Ishaan's brown car. A random Italian song was playing on the radio with Ishaan whistling to it. It sounded more like The Beatles singing in Italian.

“What's this song?” I pointed to the radio and looked at Ishaan.

“Uh, this song's name is Gloria. It's quite an old song. This is about Gloria, the singer's dream girl. More of an anthem for all of the delusional Italian men.” Shifting his focus back to driving, Ishaan unleashed the Elvis Presley in him.

“Gloria, manchi tu nell'aria
Manchi come il sale
Manchi più del sole
Sciogli questa neve
Che soffoca il mio petto
T'aspetto, Gloria.”

Remember Takeshi Goda A.K.A. Gian from Doraemon? I'm sure he would sing infinitely better than Ishaan. My book boyfriend may be the God of Flirting, but he's a peasant when it comes to singing.

Note to be noted.

Noticing me shifting my place on my seat, he stopped singing and focused better on driving.

“Do you love Italian songs?” I asked, helping myself to make another observation about him.

“A lot! Italian songs live in the deep of my heart.” He held his chest and let out a nostalgic smile.

“Uh… How about English songs?” I know that this guy is a Swiftie, yet I asked.

“Well, I am a Swiftie and I listen only to Taylor Swift when it comes to English songs.”

As silence hugged us, the next song on the radio was a melodious opera sung by God-knows-who. Realising that I couldn't enjoy my night with these songs, I shifted my focus to the blanket of night dark clouds topped with gleaming stars while letting my mind play its delusional part.

The image of the “folklore” wooden cabin with a chocolate brown couch inside was the first thing that struck my mind. Ishaan and I were sitting on the couch and watching TV while I called out someone named Advish. A small boy who could be around five years came running to us while squealing something in his baby voice.

Advish sat on my lap while Ishaan asked, “Guess what dad had made for the dinner?”

Advish pouted his lips while I said, “Your favourite white sauce pasta,” making Advish squeal and kiss Ishaan's cheek and mine, leaving us beam at the symbol of our partnership.

Advish then ran to the dining table and sat while banging on them while I crossed my fingers with his and whispered, “I love you.”

Breaking into a toothy grin, “I love you more than I love breathing.”

“Advika!” The sound of Ishaan boomed through my dream and I looked at him, trying to decipher what was going on during my mental absence. And, in the process, I heard something different yet so familiar.

“Holdin' me back
Gravity's holdin' me back
I want you to hold out the palm of your hand
Why don't we leave it at that?”

This guy played As It Was.

As in, Harry Styles's As It Was.

An English song!

I looked at him and asked, “Why did you change the channel? Aren't there any other great Italian songs?”

“I love English songs,” he said and looked at the road.

Liar.

“Ishaan, I thought you said that you love Italian songs. Plus, you said that you listen only to Taylor Swift.”

“Yeah, but, I…” Unleashing a fake purple face, he faked a high-pitched voice and asked, “Do you want me to continue playing this song or not?”

“Well, yeah, but you?” I tilted my head to my left.

“Well, as you like it.” He shrugged, thus suggesting an end for the conversation and continued to look at the road.

If this was fiction, one would have found me and Aarvi screaming and chanting, “Green Flag,” together.

Many people have told me that I radiate the “main character” energy. My college mates, schoolmates, cousins; fuck them, even Aarvi said this once to me during our baby stage as friends.

But, I hear myself telling myself that I don't just radiate “main character” energy, but also living the life of a main character. Talk about a “proud moment”!

“That's so sweet of you, Ishaan,” I beamed and tried hard to stop blushing, only to fail victoriously.

He smiled while I looked back at the road, only to find that I could no longer see the stars as clearly as I did. I peeked left. I peeked right. I stuck to the glass window like an adhesive. Yet, I couldn't see the stars.

Just then, I felt strong air on my hair as if someone was landing a helicopter on my head. As I looked up, I no longer saw the roof of the car but the stars I longed to see in the sky. My neck twisted to the direction of Ishaan while he mouthed, “This universe is yours, princess!”

Before I could counter it with, “I thought this universe belongs to Aadya Chatterjee,” emotions held my voice box tight and helped me get off my seat, snake to the back seat without disturbing the sleeping Fiorella, and meet the outer world. My red scarf saved me from the physical assault of the cold air on my face while I booted loud enough for the Homo sapiens of Italy to wake up and roam with sticks, assuming that the sound was from a wild animal.

I sighed more easily and relaxed and let hormones paint my cheeks in shades ranging from cherry blossoms to my scarf. Looking at the sky which was clearer than the ones in my universe, saltiness happily adorned the edges of my eyes as if I was listening to Arijit Singh's songs on high volume in my headphones.

My headphones.

Shit! I wish I could have them right now. If so, I would have played… Snow On The Beach?

Yeah. Snow On The Beach fits perfect as fuck.

And, as if on cue, I heard the sound of Taylor Swift crooning inside the car.

“One night, a few moons ago
I saw flecks of what could've been lights
But it might just have been you
Passing by unbeknownst to me.”

Was that just Snow On The Beach? Did the radio channel too understand me better than my mom and dad?

“Did the radio play this?” I looked down and asked Ishaan.

Chuckling as if I asked whether one must debit the giver and credit the receiver in a journal entry, Ishaan replied, “No, I played it on my mobile.”

Was he lying? No. Because, the radio was switched off. There was no light radiating from it.

“But, why?” I clearly wanted to know.

“Well… I don't know. I felt like it. Ummm… Are you uncomfortable with it? Should I play the radio again?”

No way, Ishaan. Just shut the fuck up and play this song itself. You did a huge thing to me.

“No. That's fine. I'm, in fact, great with this,” I stammered like a fool and looked up, covering my blushes as if the population of Italy and India were looking only at me and I blocked their gazes.

***

Me after writing this chapter: Okay, Google! Where can I get a guy like Ishaan Ahuja?

Google: Sorry. The stock ran out.

Okay, fine! This guy Ishaan is such a gem! Let's hope that they have a happy ending. :D

Stay tuned for more, peeps!

P.S.: "I Did Something Bad" qualified for the Shortlist as well. I hope it qualifies for the Finals as well. Pray for me, peeps!