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.

"Uh...bye?" Aastha unsurely said as she spotted Misha's boyfriend in a car waiting in the parking lot.

"Oh, I'll go once you get into a car," she offered and Aastha's heart welled up at the simple gesture.

"Oh Misha- you don't need to—

"Shh," Misha waved her off, "Don't worry about it,"

The two women, away from the chaos of the reunion had a brief yet meaningful conversation, as they shared about their lives, sans the entire divorce fiasco.

"Wait...isn't that your husband?" Misha suddenly asked while Aastha was staring at her phone, hoping someone would accept the ride.

Husband.

The word swirled around in her brain as she tried to register it.

Husband.

Husband.

My husband.

Her eyes snapped up and she directed them according to her friend's pointer finger. She squinted her eyes and time stilled. It was him. Abhishek.

"Looks like he came to pick you up," Misha mused, grinning.

"Uh...yeah I guess," Aastha breathed out.

"Good bye Aastha," Misha warmly said, "It was nice meeting you today,"

"Good night," Aastha managed to speak, heart racing, turning on her heels as she took slow but steady steps towards her...husband.

It had been more than a month now since they met the last time— at the court. Where they got six months.

She knew people were watching. It would be weird if she didn't go talk to him. They all would instantly figure out what she and Abhishek were trying to hide from the world.

"Abhishek," the surprise on his face was evident as she softly uttered his name. The name rolling off her tongue smoothly, easily like it was the one thing she'd always known.

______

Abhishek's parents were in Mumbai.

Yet, he was alone at home. They'd gone to a wedding, leaving him to have meals on his own. Just like any other day for the past three months.

He stepped into the kitchen, exhausted to cook. His eyes scanned the kitchen, the kitchen looking tidier than ever, in a complete desi mom style. He sighed, wondering what to make for dinner. He ran his hands through his hair, groaning.

He picked up his phone from the kitchen counter, deciding to go out for instead. He informed his parents, swiftly leaving the house after changing his clothes.

The keys jingled in his hands as he got on his motorcycle, his grown out hair slightly swaying as winds blew. It seemed like a warning for a typical off-season rain. The bike reached up, and he made his way to a restaurant nearby.

The restaurant didn't offer anything new. It was a thali place with a pre-decided menu, but the taste was impeccable, the food having a homely touch to it.

He didn't eat to relish the taste, not today— quickly finishing it like a chore. In no time, he had stepped out of the restaurant, even the IPL game on the television not intriguing enough to pull him in.

And that's when he saw her. Aastha. And suddenly, his heart felt at peace. He saw her around some people who he recognised as her college friends, noticed how she had snapped up her eyes to look at him, registered how she was walking to him. And it felt like just another day in his life.

Waiting by his bike for his wife.

But when he noticed how she took each step with caution and hesitation, how she fidgeted with her hair which carelessly lying on her chest, how her eyes were on the entire world around them, except for him— reality came crashing onto him. He sharply inhaled, swallowing as she inched closer with passing seconds.

"Abhishek," was all she said, and his mere name hit him like a ton of bricks. Her simple action of saying his name surprised him— which was bewildering. All she did was say his name.

Perhaps, Abhishek thought she'd never do that again.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. He just nodded, handing her the other helmet. She nodded, getting on the bike after him. No words required between them.

A pure transactional interaction— because they didn't want others to know that it was over. The media, the relatives, they would all become unbearable.

Or maybe because announcing it would make it real. Unescapable. Only the deepest corners of their hearts knew the actual answer.

As the vehicle halted at an intersection, Aastha cleared her throat, grasping his attention.

"Drop me at the next chowk, I'll take a rickshaw from the stand,"

His heart clenched at the request. His fingers tightened around the handles of the bike.

"No," he plainly refused, unable to speak more than that. She didn't protest. Distracted by the brief interaction, Abhishek did not notice that the yellow light had turned green. As the vehicles ahead of him sped up, he winced, starting the motorcycle speedily, causing a jerk.

Aastha was unfazed, yet as a reflex, her palm landed on his shoulder. He blinked, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his tee, sending a jolt in his entire being, heart thudding his chest, inhaling sharply.

Aastha on the hand, quickly pulled away her hand, as if the touch burnt. She rapidly blinked, gripping the edge of the seat tightly. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm her racing nerves.

Her house wasn't near, but it wasn't far either. In twenty minutes, they reached the housing society, and Aastha quickly got off the two wheeler.

The silence between them hadn't been comfortable like it used to be. It had been heavy, almost uncomfortable. They had so much to convey. So much that even words were useless in their case.

And they had forgotten the secret language their eyes had created.

Before the two of them said anything, it started to drizzle. A few raindrops ran down his helmet, while Aastha kept a palm above her head.

"Good night," he found the courage to speak up, but his eyes remained fixated on the road, unable to look at her. Maybe because if he'd look, he'd fall, again.

"Good night, and uh...thank you," her voice was almost inaudible. "Text me...when you reach," she hesitantly said. She knew she would not have been able to go to sleep without knowing he'd reached back home. Little did Aastha know was that he was already there.

"I will," he mumbled a reply, tilting his head to finally look towards her.

And that's when Aastha and Abhishek met each other after months. Saw each other without tears clouding their vision and strangling their voices.

That's when he noticed the dress she had donned. The same wine red dress she'd worn on their first date. And Aastha noticed how he was still wearing the charms bracelet— her first gift to him.

Knowingly or unknowingly, Aastha and Abhishek were clinging onto each other.

"Good bye, Aastha," he said, softly smiling at the nostalgia he felt after seeing her in that dress. Aastha mirrored his smile, nodding.

"Good bye, Abhishek,"

Was it goodbye, though?

______

2 months ago,

Aastha woke up, hair messed up, her oversized pyjama dragging her on the floor as she walked out to the living room. It had been a week since she'd asked for a divorce and everything— every single thing angered her.

Her house looked like Jake Peralata's locker/ garbage dump in the Philippines (B99 reference intended) and she had zero motivation to clean up the mess.

'It was all worthless'

It was a Sunday meaning she had no work and she was going to live the day like that. She switched on the television, instantly going to Netflix, not even putting on the news like she used to, just to stay in touch with the happenings in the world.

She played her favourite movie— Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, stomach grumbling in hunger. She opened a food delivery app, ordering some oily food to start off her morning.

Almost half an hour passed by watching the trio's shenanigans when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, food's here," She feigned excitement to herself. But to her confusion, a man with a bouquet of flowers in his hand stood in front of the door.

"Yes?"

"Ma'am delivery" was all he said, handing her the flowers and scampering away, leaving a bewildered woman at the doorstep.

She looked down, the flowers were tulips— her favourite kind but what caught her eyes was a note. She knew who it was from.

Eat and sleep on time.
Smile please :)
Love you.

- Abhay

this story is my current i hate it here so i will go to the secret gardens in my mind.

will the tulips bloom again?

also yeah, this isn't good quality but anyway😭