post script.

eight

08
WILTED FLOWERS

April

"Chalo, abb mein chalti hu," (I'll leave now) Asha said and Aastha instantly frowned.

"Idhar hi ruko na aaj, girls night karte hai," (Why don't you stay here, we'll have a girls' night) Aastha immediately offered, placing her hand on her mother-in-law's. Asha smiled sadly, patting her head.

"Kal ek shaadi mein jaana hai" (We have to attend a wedding tomorrow) she said, "Isilye jaana padega," (That's why I'll have to go) she explained and Aastha simply bobbed her head, disappointed.

"Arey par woh Nikita idhar pohoch jayegi, uske saath kar le girls' night," (Nikita will come here, have a girls' night with her) Asha quickly added and Aastha's softly smiled.

"Di is also here?"

"She'll be here tomorrow," Asha informed, getting up from the sofa and putting her bag on her shoulder. "Chalo chalo good night, bye, my taxi is here,"

"Text me once you reach, Mummy,"

"Yes yes," Asha said as she opened the door. But before she could leave, something caught her eyes and she halted in her tracks.

"Aastha beta?"

"Haanji?"

"Why's there a black flower in the vase? It looks so bad, throw it away," Asha frowned as she saw the wilted flowers in a vase.

"Oh, I forgot," Aastha hastily replied, her voice almost inaudible.

"Koi baat nahi, I understand you're busy," Asha said but before she could continue, her phone rung loudly. It was the taxi driver. Talking to the guy, trying to explain him that she had not cancelled the ride, Asha Sharma exited, leaving an emotionally overwhelmed Aastha.

Her eyes wandered, landing on the vase. She gently picked up the flowers, blackened and crumbling away.

How could she let go of the last souvenir from the best trip of her life?

______

next day

Aastha did not want to be here. Among the cheery faces and the fake warm interactions. It felt like a personal hell, with only pretentious people around her. People who didn't care about each other, like ever— pretending to be interested in each other's lives for two hours, every year.

A college reunion.

But Asha Maa had wanted her to try and return to normalcy— wanted her to go out if not for work, wanted her to talk to others and laugh with them, even if it was for show.

After almost one and half hour of the party, people started leaving one by one and Aastha felt a wave of relief hit her. Bidding adieu to the people she won't talk to for a year, Aastha swiftly exited the hotel, burying her face in her phone to book a cab. Alongside her was Misha Rao, one of her nicer college mates.

"Did you get a cab?" She asked.

"Uh...not yet,"

"Alright," Misha said, nodding.