If not that, the comfortable quiet with Pat and Travis was a mile better than the cold silence back at his apartment.
"Abhay tu Mumbai mein rehta hai na kuch saal se?" (You live in Mumbai for some time now, don't you?) Nitish started. "Bata, what's better— Poha or Upma?"
"Poha,"
"You have literally nothing else to say? Nothing to defend or justify your answer?" Ishan shot, trying to get the Sharma boy to talk more than three words per conversation.
"No one likes Upma," Abhishek shrugged.
Well well well, progress. Three words per conversation to five words per conversation.
"I like Upma," Nitish shrugged while Ishan scrunched up his face. Abhishek eyed his friends, swallowing unsurely.
"That's...crazy," he said, faintly. "Who likes Upma?" Abhishek said, making his friends widen their eyes. Even Pat and Travis who were sitting nearby shot their glances at him, surprised at the man for indulging in a fairly childish conversation.
"Oh please, bandar kya jaane adrak ka swaad?" Nitish shot back, not wanting the moment of banter to slip away.
"Pehle yeh bata, how do you know this idiom?" Abhishek asked, shocked.
"Oh, you don't know this story, do you?" Ishan asked, a playful smile adorning his face and Abhishek shook his head.
"Oh, is this about the time that bloke taught Nitish like ten thousand idioms in Hindi?" Travis asked, voice tinged with curiosity and Ishan bobbed his head.
Abhishek raised his brow, interested.
"So, Nitish ran into this patakha kudi when we went to Chandigarh, he accidentally bumped her car and had to fix it for her. In the four to five hours they spent together at the garage that day, the girl taught him like the entire Hindi language and all the idioms we learnt in class one,"
Abhishek's lips curved into an amused smile and he scoffed.
"That's...crazy," he mumbled. "Who would've thought?"
"No one," Ishan smiled, "Watch out Abhay, he's going to drop more bangers,"
And just like that, a mere whisper helped Abhishek want to talk to his friends again. Made him want to indulge in simple, mundane conversations without feeling like he had tears stuck in his throat.
_____
Aastha sat by the window in the local train, her mind wandering back to the previous night. For the first time in three months, she'd felt this overwhelming urge to talk to him, to listen to him speak, to see him smile.
She didn't know why. She didn't feel anything when she saw him in court. But, yesterday...
As the woman beside her got up, and another one settled down, she exhaled sharply, her head throbbing. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, thinking she'd gotten a call. It was a text. From Sara.
Saraaaaa🩵 I've missed you. I'm here if you want to talk.
A year threatened to spill out of her eye, hand shaking. 17 messages. She had seventeen unread messages from the woman from the past many days, yet Sara had texted her, received her call last night.
Hesitantly, she opened the chat, scrolling to read Sara's messages. They were some which asked about what happened with Abhishek, some were of reassurance— that she would listen to Sara and never blindly side with Abhishek, that she was there for her.
But three messages amidst all of them caught her eye.
Saraaaaa🩵 GUESS WHAT? I gave in and bought that expensive ass dress😭 idk why sent a photo.
Saraaaaa🩵 AASTHA CHOPRA I'm going to dye my hair. In UNICORN COLOURS try and stop me😍😘
Saraaaaa🩵 Abhishek's staying at our house for a few days Your apartment sucks (leaky ass house you got there)
Sara was trying to pretend that nothing had changed. She was trying to bring back things to normalcy. Aastha wanted to roll her eyes and scoff. But she didn't. She couldn't. Instead, with trembling hands, she typed out a message.
Aastha🫶🏻 Hey Sara Thank you for yesterday, and I'm sorry. Was a little emotional yesterday, it won't happen again. Take care xx
Aastha stared at the screen for a moment before keeping her phone back in her pocket. She had said what she wanted to.
There was nothing left to say. Not to Sara. And definitely not to Abhishek.
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