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One Week Has Seven Days-Lie

If there was something Himani had done sincerely all through her travel since she boarded her train from Madras this afternoon, it'd be gazing outside the window, at the trees, farms, vehicles, and occasionally crossing trains buzzing past her, with her mind overworking about what she'd done.

It was challenging, and troublesome—dealing with her unrequited feelings for him—it really was.

There was a hairline of hope about redeeming herself from the stupidity, before her love-struck, miserable-self rounded off that it was impossible, by taking the pledge on her silence—by telling him everything aloud.

Yes, she had contemplated about it too—about confessing that she was seeing him more than just friends.

When Himani had brutally started to fathom the odds of telling him, she had to embolden herself in so many ways—that she was not going to suffocate herself at this, she was not going to cower away like an immature who was crushing on an equally hormonal boy.

What was the worst that could happen, if she did that though?

Denial could go to hell.

She'd already dealt with it when he said all the things he'd said.

Or now that she'd already gone through the subtle version of it—without him being aware, she'd discovered that nothing not so good could happen.

He might just ignore her, and become distant after being aware of it—he might, but was Raghav such callous hearted to do it?

Being addressed as his friend—nonetheless, how annoying it sounded—was bloody reality; he was a good friend.

And there were chances that this total offish thing could sting her bad—even more than the rejection.

But anything—rejection or ignorance or anything—would be better than what she was withstanding right now.

She'd, then, need not feel strangled with the feeling whelming over her heart; need not put on a friend-alone disguise to him; need not be restless with thoughts of him clouding her mind all the frigging time; need not be not able to answer when someone—precisely, Raghav himself—asked what was wrong with her, and need not feel the urge of yelling there was nothing wrong with her, but himself—his oblivious heart and eyes that missed to notice what she had for him, straight at his face.

A loud blow of whistle from the front of the bus stacked over to break into Himani's woolgathering, followed by the ticket keeper's very shrill report.

"Thiruvaiyaaru bus stand."

She stood-up stiffly, after fishing for her phone from the front pouch of her backpack, and sauntered over towards to exit of the bus, as it advanced inside the arch of the bus stand, amidst many such busses piling in, and out.

Himani took the leaf of shawl she had around her neck to rub the sweat that'd laced over her forehead, and had doused her nape; appreciating herself for having worn it in the first place. When she had tried to book her ticket in the last hour, seats were only available in the AC coach, and she just had to go with it. Day express wouldn't provide her with a blanket, hence she'd simply wrapped a cotton shawl around her neck, over her khadi kurta and stretch pants.

She waited to exit the bus, simply waving one end of her dhupatta at her face, for air until the bus came to complete rest and that's when the mobile in her hand started vibrating.

Call display flashed Mythraeyi's butterball smile, along with her name.

Himani took the phone to her ear, a moment after getting down from the bus, and started walking down the stretch of the road that was bustling with vehicles and corresponding engine sounds, and loud honks.