Talk of the Town

32 //

"Hello," Miraya says with a head nod as she flattens herself to walk past the young man to get to her seat next to the window. It was a shame Lakshmi hadn't chosen the aisle seat. 

The man doesn't respond but tucks in his legs to free up space. Miraya nods in gratitude and shimmies past him successfully. She drops her leather baguette bag next to her leg and fiddles with the seat belt. 

Her phone rings, rather too loudly. The young man beside her makes a face and a sound of irritance. "Sorry," she mutters, digging into her bag to get her phone. 

It was Shray. 

"Where the hell are you?" he bellows through the phone. 

Anger flares through her. "Where the hell were you? I scoured the entire airport for you and you never picked up my calls. How long was I supposed to wait?"

The young man repeats the sound and only then she realises she was screaming. "Sorry. I am so sorry," she says, cupping her hands next to the mouth to whisper-yell at Shray. "I hate you and I am so mad at you."

"Miraya, the flight takes off at 8:30 am. It’s only eight now. I am here."

"Don't you know that you are supposed to be there at the airport before two hours at least?"

Shray sighs. "It is unnecessary."

Miraya had actually missed a flight once. She had accidentally forgotten to switch the PM to AM when she set the alarm and slept through her reporting time. Her parents yelled at her when they found out, the people at work yelled at her and even Kishore had been done with her. After that incident, flight trips made her hyper-punctual. She was always two or three hours ahead of time, sometimes even more, to prevent history repeating. 

So it's not her fault that she is cautious. Or if she is early for once in her life. 

"Okay, where are you?" he asks, softly this time. 

Just like that, her anger simmers down as well. "On the plane."

Shray hangs up. 

Asshole. 

Sometimes he annoys every single brain cell of hers. Alive or dead. 

Slowly, passengers board the flight and she thanks herself for getting on early when she sees the excuse-mes and sorrys thrown around. 

Her phone rings again and before the young man beside her can hiss at her again, she presses it to her ear. "What?" she snaps. 

"Where are you? I am on the plane. I can't see you." 

Miraya stands up, one hand holding the phone to her ear and another clutching the front seat. 

"Did you accidentally sit in the wrong seat?" the man beside her pipes, a hint of hope in his voice. 

"Unfortunately, no," Miraya says, feeling no longer kind towards him. He was a handsome man with neat clothing and a classy stubble. Even though he looked like a professionally kind-hearted man who'd help old women carry their groceries, he was a genetically annoyed man with a poor sense of patience. She wanted to pluck the expensive airpods out of his ears and crush them under her feet. 

Miraya waves her hand when she spots Shray’s face in the crowd. He locks eyes with her and then with the man beside her. He makes a face. 

"Come over," Shray says. 

"Where?"

"To my seat. I'll sit next to that man. You sit here comfortably," he says. 

"But you don't fly economy. It wouldn't be right for me to take your business class seat. And people might recognise you if you come here," she says, adding the last part quietly.