Seven Dates A Weekend | RO ✓

19 | the one in which there's heartbreak

Mondays have always been a disaster for me. My sister, however, describes it as a restart button for the week. It's like you're back on square one and yet, have so many new opportunities. But, while she positively looks at this, I couldn't.

Mondays are the worst for me.

First of all, I spent the weekend either cleaning the house and helping my mother. I would be trained under her perfectionist, scrutinizing eyes. Then, when Sunday night would arrive, I'd worry about the excuses I'd have to make for Monday morning to my parents.

I couldn't even tell them that I had no fixed-job. That, despite my graduate degree and my good grades, I had scored nothing in life. Unlike my friends, I had slowed down in the career race. If anything at all I had not even reached the first hurdle towards the finish line.

But now that I look back at it, those Mondays don't feel like anything worse than what I feel now. If anything at all, they feel like better days then, what I'm truly experienced right now. People are right when they say, you don't know what's good until it's gone. I've learned this the hard way now.

My head pounds with a very heavy headache. My limbs feel numb as I tip-toe back through the hallway trying to not make a single noise as I stumble back into the room I woke up in.

All kinds of thoughts are racing through my head. I don't know what's going on. Or why is it happening this way after everything that happened last night?

Why is Sushmita here?

Why is Aahan talking to her?

What are they doing right now? Should I walk on them? No...

But then, was last night all just for the show?

Dread begins to pool into the pit of my stomach. Then bitter bile rises up my throat and I rush into the adjoining washroom to empty my stomach.

My stomach clutches as I puke out all of last night's content. Was it because I couldn't handle the liquor? or am I really sick to my core, right now? I don't know.

It seems to me that, my common phrase is. I don't know.

Because I honestly don't know things happenings around me. And maybe this is because I'm living in a fantasy in my head. Maybe it's because I forgot the actual reality of my life. Maybe it's because I had come become detached to it this past weekend.

Saloni Neeves is the definition of a perfectionist. She does things accordingly to a plan. I always kept this grounded in my head How could I let myself get tangled up like this? It was a kickback on my primary principles.

And so I wash my face with determination and head outside. I'll be a professional, I tell myself. I'll deal with it professionally. I'll carry out things perfectly. Stick to the plan. . .

But then I'm shaking. And then, there are tears forming in my eyes. Salty tracks make their way down my face and leap down, from under my chin. I can't understand why, but I can't stop shivering and crying. I press a hand over my lips to cover my mouth as I swallow back in all the angry shouts and sad weeps. I can't be heard. I can't be heard as a loser, I tell myself.

Love is painful. That is right. You hurt the people you love, ironically. And you treat the ones you don't love right.

And maybe my love was always this one side dish. Maybe it was my fault for mistaking it with the potential to be the main course. Maybe it's my fault for not getting things straight in my head.

It's my fault. Because I'm in love.

I reach for my bag that is placed on the desk beside the bed. And with shaking hands, I take out my phone. I'm surprised by the number of notifications that are blowing out of proportion on the screen right now. I stare at all the gathered notifications with blurry eyes.

There are so many miss calls and messages from last night. But what makes my heart sink is the current notification.

There's a text from Dad.

And from what I read, it's clear that they know. I recall what Meera had texted yesterday.

We are viral!

Those very words ring in my ears like a cautious siren. And when my heart can't take it anymore, I collapse back onto the bed. Blocking out every streak light and colour as my eyes flutter and shut tightly.

Then it's all black.

***

"Hello?"

"Sal? What's going on? You don't sound good!"

"Please, come pick me up.... please."

"Shh, don't cry."

"Henna, please. . . I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone, Saloni. I told you, I'll be there for you when you need me too. I'll be there as soon as possible, ping me your current address. We'll talk then. I'm on my way. Ruk ja saara."

"Thank you, Heena. Thank you..."

***

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE, COMMENT & SHARE. SHOW SOME LOVE DONUTS 🖤