The Six Types of Love

SILAS

Out of all the ways I thought Anvi would react, this is one of the less extreme ones. Her mouth just hung open and she had been unable to speak. I figured she had probably heard some stuff about me, but never to the point where the shock would leave her speechless.

"I'm so sorry for intruding. This was a bad idea anyway. It was nice seeing you, Ayush," I look at Anvi, "Thank you for letting me into your home."

I start to walk back to the door before I hear loud laughter behind me and turn back around. Ayush and Anvi are doubled over in mirth, using the black marble countertops for support.

"You dumb ass. You should have told me Si was coming," Anvi tries to say coherently, "A little notice would have been nice."

She says my name like she has a familiarity with it, the way someone who has known me for years would say it.

"I knew you would freak out," Ayush chuckles back, both of them starting to get themselves under control. I just stand there, unable to move, frozen in place.

"I made extra food for whoever was coming just in case they decided to stay, but now he is definitely staying," Anvi turns to me as she ends her sentence.

"Are you sure it's ok?" I hesitate, not sure whether to stay or leave.

"Yes. I just needed to get over my initial...surprise," She grins. Her smile lights up the room.

Now that everything has calmed down, I realize how gorgeous Anvi's house is. When I walked in, I immediately noticed a huge formal dining room meant for entertaining. Further into the house, the kitchen has white marble countertops with black wooden cabinets that have gold handles while the floors are some sort of quartz. To the right of the kitchen, I see a smaller, white wooden dining table with only four seats. This must be where they eat when they don't have guests over.

"Here, come sit," Anvi guides me and Ayush to the white wooden table that is already set with plates and what looks like some sort of meat curry, fried rice, white rice, and spicy-looking brown noodles.

"Anyway," Ayush starts, "How are you? How are uncle and aunty? Why are you in town?"

Anvi hesitates just the slightest bit before she responds, "I just wanted a break. I needed to come home and see my family. I missed them so much."

"Awwwwww. How has it been being back in the pubic hair of New York?" Ayush teases.

"At least I'm not from Cincinnati," She shoots back, both laughing with ease and familiarity.

"Whatever. Ok, let me see what you made," Ayush points to each dish as he speaks, "Fried rice, Thai Red curry, white rice, and chili noodles."

His smile widens as he says the name of each dish. It comforts me to know that at least Ayush is still as in love with food as he was in high school.

"Thank you so much for having us," I insert myself into the conversation while Ayush pours himself a little bit of everything.

Anvi gives me a look that's half analytical and half kind and then tells me I have to try everything. Once everyone's plates are full, and I thank her for the amazing food, Anvi asks the dreaded question, "Now. How did this happen?"

Ayush takes his first bite, savors it, swallows, then compliments the chef before answering.

"We met last night after the premiere, and then I invited him to breakfast this morning. Then this plan kind of just came up," Ayush explains as casually as if he's talking about what he's wearing. Anvi takes a second to process. None of this must be making any sense to her, but she loves Ayush enough to host me, so I guess I shouldn't be complaining. She looks at me trying to figure out what to say while Ayush is shamelessly eating his food, watching both our reactions like Anvi and I were the actors in the movie's premiere he attended last night.

Ayush's intelligent brown eyes flit between us every couple of seconds waiting for one of us to break this spell, this reality that feels false. After the silence becomes too much to handle, he takes matters into his own hands.

"Anvi just ask him. He does not care," Ayush wrongly guesses.

"Is it true?" She asks. Three simple words that I had been asked so many times after Ayush uploaded his book. Three words that had defined my life every moment I was in Cincinnati. Three words that anyone who had read The Six Types of Love had to say to me even at Stanford the moment my sophomore year started.

I still remember when Ayush uploaded his book, it was like being punched in the gut. Here was someone who two months ago I would have called a best friend uploading a book about me with everything I had ever told him including my deepest secrets and most personal thoughts with barely any attempt to hide my identity. Everyone knew that Sebastian Williams was Silas Wright. Before I left for college, the first part of the book was all anyone could talk about.

As soon as I read the first chapter, I realized that Ayush had lied about the book not being about me. Half of it was literally told from my perspective. He had lied to me the night of our final argument and the months that he hadn't shown me his progress. It felt wrong to know that my thoughts were public information for anyone to read, that Ayush had had the plan to betray me long before I decided to end our friendship, and that every intimate moment we shared was now something that anyone could read whether they knew us or not.

At first, only people in Cincinnati knew, and I could still hide from the book in college. Then, published the first five parts were published, and it wasn't long before everyone knew.

Ayush doesn't look at me, choosing to play with his food instead, looking like a child at the dining room table whose parents are mad at him but who would rather ignore the situation than address it. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the long-winded explanation I have developed over the years to hopefully shut down any future questions before they come up until I realize something. Anvi already knows the whole story. Ayush had probably told her in detail what was true about the book.

"I mean, I'm assuming Ayush already told you, but most of it is extremely accurate from what I can remember," I confess honestly, without any prodding, for the first time to anyone other than Jack.