What are you doing here, Karan? Nope, what the fuck are you doing here, Vika?

Of course, I don't say that out loud because I'm tongue-tied and don't really have an answer. She looks like she always does, pretty, vain, manipulative, scheming. A brand new handbag perched on the little table next to the couch. How symbolic.

She breaks the silence. "I thought it was an intruder or something."

"I thought you went back to Mumbai."

"Missed my flight."

Clumsy silence clams the room up. Between expectant glances and avoiding gazes, our spectator clears her throat.

"Oh, don't mind me," Arvika waves a hand, turning on her heel. Easy for her to say. That's exactly what I've been trying to do, for fuck's sake.

"We're actually leaving. I just came here to grab my... uh,"—pathetic excuse of self respect? Shamefully shattered hopes?—"things."

Noor tugs on my pinkie, "I'll wait in the car, then?"

I hum an okay and watch her flutter away, not knowing whether to be thankful or scared that a literal stranger can read the room better. How miserable was I being?

"Maine tera room nahi khola hai," Vika's voice slices through the tension between us so casually that for a moment, I feel like she's talking to someone else. "Just living room thoda clear kiya hai. What are you looking for?"

I stare and stare until she's forced to meet my eyes, but God, when she does, my stomach twists in a way I can't determine. Like one of those races where the finishing lap has a sharp curve and you feel like puking your guts out because it's difficult to maintain your center of gravity, but you have to finish in the top five so you risk smashing into another driver.

You can't relate, so trust me on this one. A second's delay can cost you the entire tournament. You better switch lanes in time.

"You packed the stereo."

She releases a breath, perhaps not of relief. "Yeah, uhm. It's collecting dust here. Toh Mumbai le jaa rahi hoon."

The risk about switching lanes is, you're bound to crash into another car one race or the other. "Tu yaha lautne nahi wali?"

"I'll keep visiting. Now that we're shifting operations to Mumbai, I'll have to be there more."

I contain myself from pointing out another reason that she's clearly hiding. It's not rage, not disappointment either... just a casualty, I guess? Like, in the literal sense.

She wraps her arms around herself and sits down. "I'm leaving in an hour. Your friend is welcome to stay the night, obviously."

"I'm dropping her home and going back to my place." Details she could have done without.

She nods, and I stride towards the guest bedroom, with half the mind to return her keys, half the mind to never be back here again. She stops me though.

"Karan... it doesn't have to be awkward unless we make it."

Awkward, it screamed.

The bottle he held had fewer condensed drops than his clammy palms. "Dekh na, dekh na!"

I regarded his subtle signing with a cooperative nod. A random party thrown by a random junior from our rival school was how we were employing our time that Friday night. The girl Ritwik was hinting at, was in fact, striding towards us, but she was from Easton and if that didn't scream loser...

"Bhai, Easton ki hai. Mat phas."

"Par woh isi taraf aa rahi hai!"

"Toh abhi katle warna tera kaat ke jayegi woh."

Ritwik though, had tuned out my warning like white noise because clearly, basking in hormonal attention was more rewarding. But you see, I'm a good friend—always have been, and I couldn't stand to witness my buddy here embarrass himself repeatedly. So, alone, I traced his steps back to the couch where, not so long ago, he had been feet tangoing with the bratty new addition to our little troupe.

Shush, that so wasn't jealousy. I mean, I'm not blind—Arvika was a hot chick, but God she was infuriating at times. Our camaraderie had escalated to the levels of me actually seeking advice from her to construct an appropriate response to cat memes another girl sent me.

Wow, seriously, have I been so pathetic all along?

But the point is, I could tolerate Arvika. And perhaps, I could go so far as to say that after sixteen years of leading a Bollywood influenced life, I finally had reached that point where I could relate to 'girl best friend' memes more than the cat ones.

So you get why it twinged my guts a wee bit on seeing that her couch tango replacement wasn't me, but Vansh Mehra instead?

Now look, I have never been the type to interrupt gag-inducing interactions. Naturally, I resorted to the Pepsi-pong table behind them, stretching my ear for gossip-worthy conversations while swiftly dunking balls in the paper cups.

They spoke in hushed tones. A serious matter, concerning some guy.

"...known him for what? Five-six months?" Vansh lectured her.

Known whom? Armaan Qureshi? She had some weird affinity towards that nerd in the class, and blatantly ignored our collective disapproval.

This was one matter where I sided with Vansh though. Arvika thrust her phone between them, scrolling through someone's Facebook. Of course Nerdy Qureshi used Facebook out of all social media apps. This had to be fun.

I left the game, giving into the curiosity of taking a closer look. I rested my elbows on the back of their couch, jutting my head between them to peep at the screen.

It... wasn't Armaan's profile, though. Curly, frizzy hair over the sixteen-year old version of my Psych teacher winked back at me, standing next to the man I was so close to recognizing the other day.

My throat dried up, my eyes had started to ache, I could feel all the spiked cola pumping its way back up—but for what reason? I gulped, sucked in a sharp breath, sank my fingers into the furry couch, and grilled out as calmly as I could, "Why are you guys on Rajvir Kaushal's profile?"

A thousand warning bells rang abuzz in my mind. My failure to first recognize Kaushal sir's father thudded in my head like a hammer on a loose nail—and when Arvika's head pivoted to look me in the eye, it was as if it finally fit. The nail on the wall. Some Amir Khan lookalike of a stranger, offering me candies, a bright sunny afternoon. Mom's old silver Esteem parked outside my school. An ally for an escapade.

Or may be, I prayed, a coincidence, a very common face.

"Karan—"

"—show me your phone."

Her fingers curled over the power button, retracting back, hesitating for an excuse. "Bro, what? Were you playing Pepsi pong? Chal na, even I wanna join."

"Arvika, phone."

They exchanged looks. Some secretive rumoring, an openly hidden conversation. Vansh scratched his head, Arvika widened her eyes. A nod, a plead. I did not have the bandwidth to decipher it.

"Why were you guys stalking Rajvir Kaushal?"

Vansh cleared his throat, but the fucker was so bad at lying that I didn't even bother to register his response. My gut was having a really bad reaction to all the signaling. Sweat trickled down my forehead. Music sounded bassier, louder. My eyes stayed connected to Arvika's. Was it malice? Pride? Shock? What had she discovered that I still hadn't?

The air inside was stuffy—I didn't realize I was walking away from them until cool air blew over my sweat patches. I gripped on the railing, vein-poppingly tight. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I feeling so goddamn anxious?

I tried the meditation thing Mom once taught me to calm my nerves down whenever my first reaction to anything non-joyous would be to break things. Magic, she had coined it. Sure as fuck wasn't doing the trick now.

The door to the balcony swung open, closing briskly behind Vansh and Arvika. Sickeningly sweet, she placed a hand on my shoulder. "Karan, are you alright?"

"Yeah," I shrugged her off.

They did that thing again—conversing with their eyes like I wasn't even here. With some confirmation from her, Vansh patted my back lightly. What was it with all this patronizing bullshit?

"Look bro, we understand. It's okay and you can trust us. We were just... worried about you."

This was getting hella complicated for me to comprehend—overlooking the sudden anxiety that surged through my veins. But of course I had to act all cool and not lose composure.

I wasn't dumb. I had a short inkling of what was going on here. They knew something vital in connection to Kaushal Sir and his father. Sure, Samarth Kaushal was a tad bit sketchy, what with all the elusive idioms he spoke in, but he was a really cool person.

Whatever it was, I had to find out before it was windswept all over school on Monday. And for that to not happen, I needed to play along now.

"I'm fine."

"Look," Arvika said, "I didn't want to invade your privacy and I'm sorry for that."

My privacy? "It doesn't matter. Not a big deal." It wasn't, right?

"Bro, we know it is. And we understand," Vansh joined. "Hume pata hai tu Kaushal Sir ke paas itna kyu jaata hai."

I craned my neck to frown at him. It was an absurd idea—whatever I thought he was suggesting, but I didn't comment. Breathed in, breathed out. Mom's magic finally doing the trick, my silence making them talk.

"What Vansh is trying to say is—"

"—we know that he's your half brother."

I let out a breath, half out of relief, half in confusion. Half brother?

At his own accord, Vansh continued, "...and that Mr. Rajvir Kaushal is like, your biological father."

My face heated up, ears burning at the idiotic conclusion my friends had drawn on the basis of God knows what. Anxiety turned into adrenaline, panic into excitement, because this had to be some joke. Leaning against the railing, I stared at both of them. Neither met my eye. The ridiculousness of the idea—

"I don't bloody care what intentions that man has. My son won't be talking to him, and that's it."

"That's not fair to him or us, Prakash. You know it."

Words that would often escape the closed doors of my parents' bedroom suddenly flashed in front of me. It didn't make sense until now, all the icy edges that 'cordial relation' and 'truth' and 'fair' and, as of recent, 'psychology' had brought into my family.

Was this an open secret? Had I been so naïve that an outsider connected the dots before I could?

Nope, no, no, no. I ground my teeth, my palms rolling into fists. This was not some bloody prank. It was just that Arvika fucking Deewan had a long fucking nose and currently, it was meddling into my fucking business. Fake sympathies, ulterior motives, full of bullshit. That's what she was, from the very fucking beginning. 

So really, the main question was, "Why is this not surprising?"

No wonder she didn't have anything to say now. Hence, I needed to rephrase. "What do you want?"

"Karan, calm down," Vansh advanced towards me. "Ye baath sirf humare beech mein hai—"

"—Are you fucking kidding me?! Do you even hear yourself? You guys..." Went behind my back to find shit on me?

Arvika slipped into her composed self easily, no surprise there. "Leave Vansh out of it. It was all me."

"Strange how I don't doubt that at all, you manipulative bitch!"

I guess, to this day, the only thing we have reciprocated the hardest is the hatred I had for her, in that very moment, laced with a tinge of helplessness. And may be, that is what makes it so much more difficult to overcome.

Because to hate is a strong word, and to hate so deeply, you have to bask in all the strong emotions. So, if both of us relished in the two faces of each intense passion we exchanged, why does it feel like I'm the only one still suffering?

_____

Namoshtaii!

Finished binging Season 2 of Bridgerton and I am in two minds about this one. The chemistry between Kate and Anthony is undeniable, of course, and had so many toe-curling moments but you know, I had higher expectations from this season. I found myself getting more drawn towards Eloise (she stays reigning #1 as my favorite characters even in this season) and Theo. And I honestly don't care what anyone else says because Lady Featherington STOLE the show in the last episode. I got chills with that little speech she made. Definitely one of the smartest characters on the show! Have you watched Bridgerton? Who is your favorite character?

April is here, bringing peak summer with itself. Have you made any summer vacation plans? Also, how are you liking offline schools/college? I recently heard that schools are now allowing mobile phones so now teenagers are pretty much living in the "Euphoria" era, and while the comparison was hilarious, it really made me wonder if that was true or not. Because honestly, imagine the desi "rumors". Feel like a granny saying this but honestly, if you're in school, enjoy the device-less drama. Passing chits instead of texting under desks is a different sport, ok xD 

Thanks to ughhmaybeits_Titli for making the banner art. This one legit blew my mind! Read, vote, comment, promote!

~Shubhodiya