I stood searchingly in our near immaculate apartment in Bandra, my hands on my hips like a mocking aunty's. Our king size bed was perfectly made up with floral sheets tucked under the mattress. The white floating nightstand and the matching white dressing table was devoid of any beauty products clutter. I strode anxiously from the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room, not one speck of dirt or stray object anywhere to be criticised about. Only the glass pen stand that you painted with pretty acrylic colours was overflowing with pens and pencils kept on my slick, Pepperfry desk. The desk that was my personal space and you weren't allowed to touch.

You were seated contentedly on your swivel chair in front of the Dell laptop with the slightest hunch that gave away your exhaustion. The small window with the anti-pigeon net behind your spotless desk showed a pink sky like the clouds had played with gulaal. You seemed to sense my lurking presence because your head tilted slightly and from the faint reflection of your square face on the laptop, you were serenely smiling.

The whistling sound of the pressure cooker from our neighbour's apartment made you say, "I have cooked dal khichdi for dinner. Hope that's okay?" I was silent, not from any displeasure, but brooding about the future. You whirled around fully on the chair, uncertainly meeting my eyes and scratching your trimmed beard. "I know you're not a fan of that, but you're tensed about your health and skin from all the outside food lately. I thought it would be a good change---"

"Yeah, of course," I cut off dismissively, offering a small smile which eased you and you turned back to work again.

I could have evilly clung to the mistake of cooking dal khichdi and broken up with you right then. But your thoughtful intention and the sky looking so lovely against your frame took away my will power and nearly convinced me to stay with you forever. Another distant whistle of the pressure cooker going off brought me reeling back to reality.

You see, I had to break up with you. The glaring problem being that you were too kind which had lured me to you in the first place. When I had groggily woken up from our amazing one night stand, you were awake and smiling at me like a hopeful puppy waiting to be fed. Unlike my previous one night stands who would proudly gather their stuff in the morning without sparing me a glance and then stealthily leave. Their minds would be furtively occupied by lies to spit out to their conservative mothers once back home.

You were truly interested in me, not only my body but all of me.

It was so refreshing like the smell of damp mud and ugly croaking of frogs after the first early June rain for a girl growing up in a society where a woman's body was held sacred and valued over her personality or actions. A society which I had rebelliously rejected the moment I was financially independent to move out of the typical, protective household. The guilt and shame still lingered from living an unconventional life every time I heard the tinge of morose or contempt lacing in someone's voice from my past.

I knew that I was the centre of gossip of all my so-called friends and family, only you didn't care about the gossip at all like an innocent child not bothered with worldly affairs.

This was the problem exactly because I had comfortably grown to be so dependant on you, I feared that I would become the compliant wife that I so loathed to be. I knew you wanted us to get married, I noticed the repressed excitement in your voice whenever you told me about your friends getting married. I couldn't do that. My strength was built upon my independency, my will to break away from the flying flock of birds and soar higher than the clouds.

I put a sticky dollop of dal khichdi on the ceramic plate, wincing at how no other man would be willing to cook and care about my health. You had even brought a fresh jar of my favourite mango pickles from the old lady's corner store, meticulously remembering my dislike for preserved lemon pickles. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stuck a spoonful of rice in my mouth.

"Hey, I'm sorry the khichdi's that bad," you said nervously with a little smile, standing behind me. "What happened, love? Difficult day at work?"

"Yeah," I lied, more tears helplessly spilling from my eyes. I wouldn't have cried, you know that you know how less I cry. I couldn't hold back when you had selflessly left all your work and started massaging my shoulders. Why were you making things difficult for me? Were you taking pleasure in my silent suffering?

You slowly dragged the plate away from me. "Let's order pizza. Pizza will do you good."

I felt like a sick child being tended dotingly by her mother, a love so untainted which I hadn't felt in years.

In spite of my protests, you ordered chicken pizzas from Pizza Hut, narrating me all the hilarious incidents from planning your best friend's wedding, how he got scammed of thousands of rupees by a phoolwala and how the entire wedding industry was a large vacuum sucking in insurmountable amounts of money. Even when you were wisely criticising weddings, I could see happiness sparkling like expensive champagne in your eyes. I remained quiet, smiling occasionally.

I cried again that night after we had made love, when you tenderly held me like I was some Goddess, breathing in the last remnants of my rose-scented perfume.

The next day, I agreed to meet you during my lunch break at a local café. I was washing my face intermittently that entire morning, trying to fade the blotches on my face and look strong enough to break up with you. I was about to confidently strut in when through the glass-sheathed walls, I saw you shyly holding another woman's hand.

I felt like I was in an aquarium, gaping at two graceful fishes swimming around each other. You smiled clandestinely at her, both of you caged happily in a dreamland, unaware of me and the bustling traffic outside. Suddenly, I felt so foolish, so small, so insignificant.

All I wanted was to rip your hand away from hers and place it on my wildly beating heart which begged for you to love me again.

I marched in with a frenzied gait, not quite ready to create a scene, not quite ready to do anything dramatic. But I knew I had this urge to scream, scream at being wronged, scream for you to come back home and love me like I was some Goddess. I towered over you and your lover's seated frame, staring down at both of you.

"I didn't know you were coming early," you said anxiously, quickly letting go of her slim hand.

"I'll go," the woman spoke, getting up.

You clumsily got up too. "No, no, stay."

I inquisitively looked at both of you, awkwardness creeping on your faces. She slipped off a ring from her hand and gave it to you. You fisted it tightly and kneeled down.

"So I was asking my friend, Natasha, here if she liked this ring, to know if you would like this a-and you came in. This proposal feels sloppy now and I didn't plan it this-this way," you stuttered and your friend nodded kindly in reassurance. She smiled warmly at me and instantly, all my fears evaporated as I tried to comprehend whatever the hell was going on. "I have loved you since I don't know how long and I know, I know that you don't want to get married just yet. You can think properly and let me know when we're home---"

"Just say it," I intervened.

"What?"

"Just ask the bloody question!" I repeated, breaking into a broad smile.

You had tears surfacing in your eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"I don't know, but I know I want to be with you and only you---" Feeling all anticipated eyes of strangers on us, I made him get up and sit. I held his hands fiercely. "I don't know, I think I wouldn't know. Put the ring on my finger and let me decide then." You chuckled as you slid in the little diamond ring and I was amazed at how perfectly it fit. "I had doubts. Tons of them. But, I don't have them now. Not as much."

"I think it was the dal khichdi. I could see that made you not want to be with me," you joked, shutting your eyes to hide the tears and I snorted.

"The very opposite. I loved you then, more than ever," I whispered, feeling the mists of the clouds disappear around my soaring body, looking forward to a clear sky.