Riya

On Sunday, I went through the different colors of denial, thinking about my interaction with Abhay. Each time, coming up with a different possibility for the things I felt. Despite all that, the urge to know about him didn't go away.

"Riya!" My mother's voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

I turned to look at her as she held a bunch of peas in front of her that she was peeling for matar paneer with a scowl on her face.

"What?" I asked, knowing that I was going to get an earful.

I was sitting with my mother in our ritual of having evening tea. We used to drink tea together every day, but my job at the cafe made it tough for both of us. Now, our ritual had confined itself to weekends.

"Why don't you ever listen to me?" She stared at me, peeling another pod of peas.

"I was."

"Then tell me what was I saying?" She narrowed her eyes to challenge me.

"You'll have to repeat."

She sighed. "Your father and I are going to our hometown for a while."

"Why the sudden trip?" I asked, my full attention to her words.

"Land disputes." It was my turn to sigh at her reply. "We might take Aarush also." She added.

"What? Why does he need to be there?"

"Because he can not work, and then you call complaining about him not working. It's better I just take him." She grumbled, her eyes back on the TV playing her favorite serial.

"How about you just teach him some household work so I don't get the burden of it all," I said, watching the girl on the TV cry and beg her husband to believe her. Who made these shows?

"You were the first to say to let him be because he's going to give his boards." She glared at me.

Guilty.

I sighed. The truth was, I pampered Aarush more than my parents, and now it was coming to bite me back. It was good they were taking him.

"What about his school?"

"He said he'll manage."

I hummed, and my mind went back to yesterday.

"You're too distracted these days. Everything okay?" She asked, her peas forgotten.

I blinked at her question. Was everything okay?

Everything was slipping away from my fingers, and even after a year, I didn't know how to cope with the changes happening around me.

"Everything's fine," I answered, my eyes back on the TV, which was playing the same damn scene for the last ten minutes.

She didn't broach the topic again, which was unusual for my mother, and for a second, I wanted to ask her if everything was okay.

"But might come here tomorrow." She informed me, and I resisted the urge to groan, scream, and kill someone.

I could not take another jab at my skin tone and how difficult it would be to find a guy for me. I grew up listening to her shit, and it rot my brain.

I opened my mouth to say something, but it turned into a sigh. "Okay."

On Monday, I sat on the bleachers on our football ground, trying not to think about the conflicted emotions and everything that was going to happen today at home, with Angie by my side. She has asked me to come to see the game. The next few games were supposed to be away games.

The deafening sound of the excited crowd gave me a headache. I was a regretting coming here.

The bleachers were filled with guys and girls wearing our team's jersey with our college's emblem painted on their faces. The buttery smell of popcorn Angie held made my stomach grumble. With the smell of the popcorn, I could also smell the rain in the air. The dark and cloudy sky warned about the upcoming heavy downpour.

"Are you planning on bailing on me?" Angie asked as she munched on the popcorn, wearing our team's jersey.

"Nope, but you owe me one," I said, and I picked up some popcorn for myself. My eyes searched the players. I couldn't find the grumpy captain of the team anywhere. Perpetually late, as usual.

Despite all the chaos, I felt a sense of peace sitting with Angie. She was here. I was not alone. The weather was nice.

We heard a few screams and turned our heads in tandem to see Dhruv walking on the ground with a grin.

"Loser," Angie muttered under her breath.

"Didn't you like him?" I finally asked her.

She was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I did. That doesn't mean he's a good person."

It wasn't easy to hear a friend tell you that your brother was not good, but I also understood where she was coming from.

"I thought that you guys were dating," I said, and the crowd erupted again, this time louder.

I looked up and spotted Abhay finally jogging onto the field, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else. His face was set in a permanent scowl. It didn't match the fluidity with which he moved across the field.

Did people know that this guy liked molding clay and turning it into magical creations with a softness that was rarely shown on his face?

I wasn't sure anyone knew of that side of him.

"No, we weren't." She said. Her eyes trailed to where Dhruv was standing, talking to the cheerleaders with his usual grin on his face. Being the striker came with a certain level of fame. But today, I couldn't find that kindness on his face, the trait that flew in the veins of men in our family.

I felt like punching him.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked hesitantly as the referee blew the whistle to start the match.

"I will when you're ready." She said with a soft smile on her face.

"When I'm ready?"

"Yeah," She looked at the ground where the players scrambled for the ball. "You already have a rocky relationship with him. I don't want to be the reason for it to become worse."

'He doesn't like when we hang out together, you know." She said with a sad smile. "He thinks I'm a bad influence."

That piece of shit.

The ball shot across the field, and a player from the opposing team cut through, attempting a counterattack. They broke past the midfielders, heading straight for the goal. Abhay sprung into action, shouting commands to his defenders as he moved to position himself.

"Cover left! Watch number 9!" Abhay's voice boomed across the field, sharp and authoritative.

"I tried so much. So much to make him understand. I chased him around the college and fought with him, but this is what happened." I said, my lips trembling.

The opposing team's forward lined up for the shot. The crowd held its breath, but somehow, I felt detached from the things happening in front of me. The noise was turning into a white noise and melting into one.

The player kicked the ball with a fierce kick, aiming for the top right corner. Abhay dived.

The sound of the crowd erupted as his gloved hands made contact, deflecting the ball just inches past the goalpost. The noise of the crowd brought me back to reality.

Abhay was back on his feet, glaring at the field like the game had personally insulted him. Angie waited for the crowd to calm down.

"Riya," She held my left hand with her right one and looked into my eye. "It's not on you. You're not responsible for his behaviors and actions. He's a fucking grown man." The gravity in her eyes took me aback.

Her words felt like a punch in my gut, and I sat in silence to digest them. The crowd roared again, but it couldn't drown my thoughts that maybe I needed to step back for real. And let him make mistakes and maybe learn from them.

At the end of the game, the referee blew the whistle. We lost the game. But I didn't know why it felt like more than just a loss.

Embarrassment. 

That's what I felt. For my naivety and my airheadedness. An urge to scream lodged itself in my throat as I saw the scene unfolding in front of me.

Angie and I were near our gym, planning on going back to the cafe as our shift was about to begin. But as we neared the gym, my eyes took in the heated interaction between Abhay and his cousin, Raghav. I couldn't make out the words from afar. The players of his team were around.

I slowly approached the scene, ignoring Angie's command to ignore it because I couldn't. Raghav's creepy grin from a few days ago came back into my mind. An ominous feeling spread through me.

Raghav stepped closer, his smile a taunt that made my stomach twist. I couldn't hear the words, but I saw the way Abhay's hands curled into fists, his jaw clenched tight as though holding back his rage. Rage I hadn't seen.

It happened so fast.

One minute they were exchanging words, and the next, fists were flying. I blinked, unable to process that Abhay had swung first. It didn't make sense. He wasn't this guy. This wasn't who he was.

Thoughts flooded my brain, but my feet stopped when I realized I didn't know who he was.

What was I even thinking? I spent my Saturday thinking about the fact that I didn't hate him and cursing my misjudgment. Shame and disgust spread through me like a poison.

I stood there frozen, my legs heavy like concrete. My hands trembled, fingers twitching as if they wanted to reach out and stop them, but my body wouldn't move.

I couldn't move. The noise of the students screaming at the top of their lungs faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their grunts, the dull thud of fists connecting with flesh.

I flinched at the sound. No one talked about how scary it was to see a man bludgeon another in rage. The way red seeped out of bruises and the skin turned purple.

It wasn't something new. I had seen Dhruv in countless situations similar to this. But this was different. I couldn't see Abhay's face anymore with his back to me, and I wasn't sure I would've liked that.

"Careful, you don't wanna drop this after all the efforts."

His words from Saturday kept repeating in my mind as the softness on his face was being replaced by the furious one. 

My lips trembled. I wanted to shout, to scream at them to stop, but the words stayed lodged in my throat.

The sight of Abhay's fist connecting with Raghav's face again and again felt like something breaking inside of me.

The Abhay from the pottery shop felt like another person. All those moments when I thought he was something more, something softer...they were lies. And I didn't even know why it felt like a betrayal to me.

A few of the droplets fell from the sky. The slow drops turned into lashing rain prickling my skin.

It was just the heat that day. Or maybe I was tired. That had to be it. There was no way I was feeling... whatever that was... about Abhay Raichand. It was just a fluke. Nothing more.

The red on his hand slowly mixed with the pouring rain. As I watched it slither down, all I could think was that I was to be afraid of him. 

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