invisible string ✓

twelve

“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.”