04
WE WERE NOT MEANT TO BE

April

2 years ago,

"Aastha?"

"Hm?"

"Go back home," Abhishek said, voice laced with concern as he leaned in to her side of the bed. Aastha turned over, facing him, placing a finger on his lips.

"Shut the fuck up"

"Aas—

"Sone do naaa!" (Let me sleep!) she whined, "We have to get on a flight tomorrow, again," she groaned and he shook his head.

"Exactly, you're exhausted and you're going to fall sick, Aastha. Ghar chali jaa kuch din ke liye," (Go home for a few days)

"Muh band rakhne ke liye kitne paise lega," (How much money will you take to stay silent?)

"One hour equals to five kisses," he replied, grinning and she rolled her eyes, slightly pushing the man away.

"Well I can't afford that, go to sleep,"

"Aastha-

"Abhay, I swear to God, go to sleep." She gritted out, annoyed.

"You can't even sound angry, baby. You should-

"WHY ARE YOU SO HELL BENT ON SENDING ME BACK HOME?" Aastha, now completely annoyed, shouted as she sat up. Abhishek flinched, scared as he hugged one of the dozens of pillows kept on the bed, in mock defence.

"I was just saying because you seem very tired and fatigued today, nothing else," he nervously laughed. "And it's not like our schedule is over after this flight,"

"You just don't want me near," she mumbled, still angry at her husband. Abhishek softly smiled, pulling her closer as he slid his hand around her waist.

"I'm sorry, alright. If you think you're up for it, you're right," he said and she rolled her eyes.

"No, now I'm going to go home. Let me and go and book th-

Before she could continue, he pressed his lips on her, cutting her off. She wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with his hair while he caressed her cheek, his touch feathery.

"You're so beautiful," Abhishek mumbled, their breaths mingling as they parted. She laughed and he loved it.

"And you're so fucking cheesy," she giggled.

Abhishek's eyes fluttered open. He didn't move, just remained frozen in the bed, eyes scanning his surroundings for a moment. The room felt oddly familiar to the one from his memory. And for a second, Abhishek felt like he was still in the past.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, as if peeking to see whether Aastha was still in the room— she'd perhaps open the door, or emerge from the bathroom any second. But she never came. He never got up to call her either, because realisation had struck.

Aastha was not with him, joint at the hip all the time. She was in Mumbai, living at Pratiksha's house. The tears didn't slip out of his orbs. They never did.

_____

Aastha opened the door to the apartment, welcomed by a cold darkness. Aastha grew up in a house where she would be greeted by the chime of her granny's bangles, and her warm smile.

She grew up and married a man, who'd engulf her in a tight hug as soon as she stepped in the house after a long day and would not let go, showering her with hugs and kisses.

And now, warm winds in an empty house waved hello.

Aastha sharply exhaled, shaking her head. She had been missing him more than she had in the past few months. Maybe, she should have missed him so much back when they were living together.

1.5 year ago,

"Hey, welcome back," Abhishek said, taking her bag as she stepped in.

"Hey," she mumbled, as Abhishek pulled her closer in a hug.

"Long day?"

"So long," she said, parting the hug as the two walked in, Abhishek keeping the bag on the sofa while she sat down.

"That's-

"That's what she said!" Aastha cut her husband off, voice laced with enthusiasm, a victorious smile adorning her face. Abhishek just shrugged, smiling.

"What?"

"It's a decent joke, but I'm not into the game-competition thing," he said, walking to the kitchen to pour her a glass of water.

"Oh really?" She asked, hands on her hips as she wigged her eyebrows.

"Yes, Aastha. I'm doing this thing called maturing," he said and she rolled her eyes as he handed her a glass of water.

"Kuch bhi," (Bullshit) she mumbled under her breath and he grinned.

"Anyway, go freshen up, I still have to finish making dinner,"

"Whatcha making?" She asked, getting up from the sofa, straightening her kurti.

"Not much, jeera rice and dal," he shrugged. "Bass tadka dena hai dal ko," (I just have to season the dal)

"Noice," she mumbled.

The rest of the evening was like any other day— Aastha showering praises on Abhishek's cooking, cuddling up on the sofa as they ticked off another movie on their checklist.

Aastha snapped out of the memory as she splashed water on her face. It was a mundane memory, nothing was grand or special about it, not even the food.

And yet, it felt like everything she craved for in the moment. Their love used to feel so simple...cracking dirty jokes together, watching movies, giving warm hugs after long days. Until it was not simple anymore.

She sighed, picking up her phone, dialing a number she hadn't called in some time.

"Hello, Maa,"

"Are you guys free this weekend? I was thinking of coming to Pune,"

"Well, I'm not going to come to Pune if you two have to go out for some wedding or some school reunion,"

"Yeah, you're busy all the time,"

"Alright, I'll see you,"

Home. You can always go back home.

Hopefully the flashbacks were nice?