I was numb when my fingers dabbed randomly on my phone screen, texting Dhruv to meet me somewhere, anywhere. There was an important issue to discuss. I was surprised I could get anything coherent in there at all. But the mind has the working of its own. The phone pinged back immediately with Dhruv's reply, inviting me over to Gaiety, the book cafe, where he currently was. I picked myself from where I was sitting on the stony steps of Surajkund lake, watching the clouds play innumerable tricks in the sky, and dragged my feet to reach Dhruv. It was imperative that the job was done today; any delay would only play on my conscience, and for the life of me, I couldn't bear another burden upon my heart.

It took almost an hour to reach the cafe. As I entered the doors of the cafe, my mind was resolved about what had to be said. I hadn't rehearsed the words, but I felt much clearer in my mind than I had over the last few weeks. I ran my eyes over the jam-packed cafe, trying to locate a mop of straight black hair, when my eyes fell upon his lanky figure, sitting on a table near the glass window, sipping his mug of coffee leisurely. I would stand by my earlier statement - he would make the perfect husband to some exceptionally lucky girl. But that lucky girl wasn't me by any means. I drew in a breath and strode towards the table he occupied, intent on saying my piece as concisely and coherently as possible.

Pushing everything else aside, I managed to flash him a small smile. "Hey," I whispered in greeting and sat down when he motioned to the chair across him. I placed my bag against the window and stared at the rim of his cup, unable to meet his eyes. He, on the other hand, was staring at me with a sharp, steady gaze. As I was about to open my mouth to say my piece, Dhruv beat me to it, a light smirk playing on his lips.

"Toh kiske liye hume chod rahi hai aap?( So for whom are you leaving me?)" He asked, his tone light and airy. I was stumped for the second time that day. How did he know?

"I...I'm so, so very sorry," I let out, lips wobbling as tears pooled in my eyes.

"Hey, don't you sit here crying, or else people might think I'm some toxic bully of sorts making you cry with my heartless, cruel words," he said jokingly, but I wasn't in the state to appreciate humour. I bit my lip and nodded, to which he let out a loud sight.

"Not in the mood for a light dose of humor?" I shook my head in negative. "How... how do you know I am here to...?" I couldn't finish the sentence, confusion clouding my senses.

He took a sip of his coffee. Cafe Mocha, I noted. "Well, for one I have never seen someone turn so pale, hurt and angry upon hearing that they are getting married. I am a keen observer," he chuckled ruefully and popped a pistachio biscuit in his mouth. We sat in silence for a minute, before he spoke again. "You love that guy, don't you?" He asked softly, his eyes kind.

I looked up at him dumbly. "The guy who had come to deliver the file? There was no file to be delivered, was it? He's the guy, right? Abeer?" His name brought back so many memories; I shut my eyes to get rid of the pain. Nonetheless, I nodded like a stupid child.

He let out a weary sigh. "You shouldn't have hid it from me, Aashi. I didn't expect that from you," he said quietly, running a finger along the rim of his coffee cup. My heart, which I thought could bear no more, clenched with guilt.

"I know. I shouldn't have kept you in the dark. But the last time I told a guy to reject me because I have a boyfriend, his mother told mine, and... and it was bad. I didn't even have one back then; it was simply a tact to put off that guy. But the drama that entailed it... it scared me. And I wasn't ready to make that mistake again. Plus, the parents were..."

"Too much into this match. I get it, I faced that at my home as well," he chuckled, making me wonder about the situation at his house. "I get it, Aashi, I really do. Its just, I don't know, I think I was quite nice to you. I put up with everything well, we did have a wonderful time in Hauz Khas. I thought we had formed a bit of a camaraderie since that outing. It simply... confused me when I deduced the truth."

"You are right about everything," I said quietly after awhile. "We had formed a friendship after that trip. It is just an excuse against my actions. The truth is, I didn't tell you the truth. I am sorry. I can't be sorry enough. You deserved better than that. Everyone deserved better than that," I whispered the last statement, hoping he would get my clue. He smiled, and patted my hand in a friendly gesture.

"Yes, I agree. Everyone deserved better. But I understand your situation as well. You already had had a bad experience with truth, I can't fault you for choosing other wise this time," he said kindly.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, when I suddenly blurted out. "You had a marriage proposal onto you this morning. A life-altering decision. You were prepared for the next step, probably having imagined a life with me in the future. And now, I'm calling it quits. I hid an ongoing relationship from you. Heck, I'm a fraud. I played with your emotions," I chuckled humourlessly, before looking him in the eye. "You should be angry. Not understanding. What is wrong with you?" I questioned incredulously, unable to figure out the man sitting before me.

"And what would that do? Yes, I did lose my fiance today. It was hard, but I've accepted it. Denial only leads to more misery," he said genuinely, flashing me a quick smile.

"But it would be a lie to say that I wasn't angry. I was angry, very angry. I hadn't fallen in love with you but I could see a future together, which is why I said yes. But then your heart is already taken. And I can't contest to take what's already gone," he smiled ruefully before continuing. "Its been four hours since the incident, and I've had time to process the situation and calm down. I cannot say that you were right, but I can empathize with you. It must have been difficult to meet me, difficult to handle your parents and to carry on the relationship in constant agitation. I don't want to add another difficult in that list by being mad at you. That's it. And oh," he said as my eyes teared at his words. "Don't worry about my parents, please. I have them handled. Also I am sorry, I should have conveyed my 'yes' first to you and then our parents. We would have avoided this then."

"Please don't apologize, it's completely fine," I said. How does life bestow patient and understanding men in my life and how do I manage to mess it up every single time?

I nodded mutely, gratitude pouring from every fiber of my being.

He exhaled. "I guess we're good then?" He asked and got out his wallet. I nodded with a genuine smile on my face. "I need to go now. Meet later? After all this is sorted?" He asked as he paid his bill and got up from his chair.

"Yes," I finally managed to say. "And thank you. And oh - " I said as he moved to leave, "Bridgerton."

"What?" He asked, his brow furrowed.

"In your biodata. Add the point about your interest in historical fiction," I said, standing in front of him.

"You're kidding," he said incredulously.

"No, not this time. Its a charming genre. Only the right sort of girls will appreciate your interests and not mock them. And you should be honest. You taught me that just now, didn't you? Be honest with your interests. Any kind of interests," I wiggled my eyebrows for good measure, making him laugh.

"I'm still not sure that you're not joking about this," he said, shaking his head humorously.

"I'm not joking. I'm serious. Julia Quinn is as good a writer as Dan Brown. Among other historical fiction writers, of course. Its only fair that you give them their due respect," I replied, a kind smile playing on my lips.

He sighed dramatically. "You are a manipulative, manipulative woman. But I think I've had my fill of women who like Historical fiction for a lifetime." I giggled a little at his words before we stood quietly, facing each other.

"Bye, Aashi," he said finally, and left without another word.

"Bye," I whispered to his retreating back.

---------------

It was almost evening when I reached home, having roamed around the city for awhile, getting a grip on my thoughts and feelings about the entire day. In a time frame of two weeks, my life had taken a turn for the worse. I felt as dizzy as one felt after a rollercoaster ride when they hit the ground once again. I was weary, hurt, guilty, tired, and I hadn't eaten anything since morning.

When I finally rung the doorbell to my apartment did it finally hit me; the fight me and my parents had in the morning. And the things I said. And the things they said. And the way I stormed out of the house. I had never stormed out of a fight with my parents in my life. And I certainly hadn't spoken so rudely and insensitively to them in all these years. I had truly outdone myself, I thought wryly as I hit the bell again.

When no one answered, I banged the door, calling for my parents. Confused when no one answered, I knocked at our neighbor's door.

"Hello, Shashi aunty," I greeted our sixty-year-old neighbor politely, who wobbled to open the door and let me in. Shashi aunty was a widow who lived alone independently, away from her children. She smiled crookedly and tried to usher me in.

"Come in, come in," she said and pulled me by my arm.

"No aunty, that's fine. I just wanted to know if my parents had told you anything before going out," I said hurriedly, afraid she would be successful in pulling me in. As good as the lady was, she was a force you did not want to cross. I hoped I had declined her offer as kindly as I could.

She frowned before peering up at me from her square-rimmed glasses. "Why dear, they left."

"Left? What does that mean?"

Understanding clouded her vision before she limped away and back, handing me my apartment keys. "They packed their bags and left this afternoon. They left these keys for you," she said and smiled her half-smile. I stared blankly at the set of keys in my hand, before I nodded while whispering a faint thank-you and left her home.

I opened my apartment to find it empty. Dark and cold. I switched on the lights and walked inside, hanging the keys in its stand. I opened the door to their room, and stared. The bare, silent room spoke a lot.

I had said a lot of goodbyes that day. But somehow, this seemed the least likely farewell to happen. I hadn't ever fret about my parents leaving, because they had never left. Because somewhere, in the darkest alleys of my heart, I knew. I knew that while there was a chance that Abeer would leave me, my parents wouldn't. It had not occurred to me that forever was a fairytale. I hadn't thought that my parents would leave, too.

To some extent, I had taken them for granted. Just like any other child, I had taken their care, their worries, their anger, their caresses for granted. I now wished they would shout at me, if that was the way to make them stay. But they were gone, too.

Out of all the farewells I had said that day, this one hurt the most. The silent one hurt the hardest.

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