Dhruv was yelling "Okay, okay, I'm comin', I'm comin'" he woke up and he realized somebody was knocking on the door.

His head was pounding. It was like the insides had swollen so much they were pushing on his skull. His eyes also hurt really bad. He never noticed the morning sun so bright and glaring before. He rolled over to push his face into his pillow, and his stomach couldn't keep up with the rest of the body. For a second he thought he was going to vomit.

This must be the reason of he cried him to sleep last night, he thought vaguely. Man, I am sick. As he peered through the peephole, the last person in the world he expected to see was standing on the other side of the door, Ditiya's beautiful face was flawed only by the creases of concern. She knocked again, and this time a feeble voice said, through the cracks. "Dhruv, I know you don't want to see me, but I'm here. I'm sorry I wasn't here before. I'm really sorry, Dhruv. Can I come in? Can I please see you? Shit, Dhruv, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry this happened. I'll be here, okay? I'm not going to leave."

Dhruv stared at the closed door, attempting to control his breathing. If he listened close enough, he could hear Ditiya's breathing on the other side.

Minutes passed, and Dhruv didn't move from where he was standing, did not move a limb. He stood there for around ten minutes, staring into nothing, not thinking. He counted his breaths and the tiles on floors. Another five minutes later, his hand trembling as he touched the door handle, slowly, carefully turning the knob. The door cracked as it began to open. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Ditiya sitting on the concrete step before his front door, her knees up against her chest and her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed red from the cold weather.

Dhruv stared at her, feeling the blood in his veins speed up and the color returned to his skin. He tried to think, tried to process feelings, but he was stuck. He swallowed, and without realizing, he went and sat beside her on the concrete. She looked up to find him watching her. Their eyes met, and as cliché, as it sounded, time stood still.

"Dhruv," she said, so soft it was barely audible. It was all Dhruv needed before he buried his face into Ditiya's shoulder and started to cry.

Ditiya's arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing her body against his. Dhruv cried and cried as she kissed him on the forehead just as tenderly as she did when they didn't use to act stranger, and he cried some more. She rubbed his side and whipped his tears away with her thumb. Dhruv couldn't breathe, suffocated through his own sobs and memories and guilty heart. Dhruv was not sure if he felt worse or better than he had in the last two months.

Ditiya was the first to say something, nudging her forehead against Dhruv's temple and whispering, "I'm so sorry." And then, "It wasn't your fault."

Dhruv let a choked sound escape from his throat and pulled Ditiya closer to him. "It was. It was."

"No." She shook her head in disagreement, or maybe denial. "It wasn't. I promise it wasn't."

Dhruv spent the next one or little more hour wrapped in Ditiya's arms, going through a cycle of uncontrollable wailing to quiet hiccups. "Shhhh." She touched him again. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead again, her hair brushing along his cheeks and ears while every emotion to take over Dhruv.

Then, without warning, Dhruv silently untangled himself from Ditiya. He stood up and went back to his house, closing the door behind him without a glance, leaving her standing in that cold weather. Dhruv stood with his ear pressed to the wood, for more than half of an hour until he heard the chugging sound of the car going far and far.

The following day, after an hour of intense self-debating filled with good intentions, Dhruv dialed his brother's number. He could hear the phone rang. He cleared his throat nervously and prepared himself to plead his brother to tell Ditiya not to come to his house again, not to contact him. He told Arjun that he is wasn't mad at Ditiya and that she should not include herself into Dhruv's misfortune life.

A week later, he heard that Ditiya has left for Japan. As she was transferred to headquarters in Otaku, Tokyo, and promoted to management.

Son winter had given way to spring, and the new buds announced the beginning of new life cycle, the weather grew warmer and birds began to come back, but he still felt as if he was in living in one of his worst dreams. Anyway between going to work and coming back, his life fell into a smooth and almost predictable routine, which in turn made him feel comfortable. He had also been in the habit of visiting his brother Arjun and Aditi once in every two or three weeks, for dinner. He knew he was merely a hollow case floating about on auto-pilot. Dhruv was not certain where and why he goes what happens around him. He only understood that this was the norm now.

Looking back at the past months, everything seemed a blur. Initially, Dhruv was in a weird state of knowing that he shouldn't be okay, but still thinking that he was. He was functioning fine, sometimes even a little too well. In fact, his gaze was usually glued to his computer monitor. Not that he minded. He liked the total focus necessary in his job as a computer software engineer for a high-tech corporation. His boss had also given him a personal office room to emphasize his importance to the company. They were always giving him perks and bonuses. He was satisfied.

The problem was that Dhruv he knew wasn't okay from the inside like he was from outside.

He had his share of breakdowns though, sometimes happening in week-long stretches where he would experience them almost daily. Where he would see nightmares, during those dreams, he would wake up in a sweat, thinking about the Shreya's cold body lying on the bathroom floor and sometimes he would have full-blown anxiety attacks. It was always some other unchangeable factor in his life - job, his consuming loneliness, self-hatred or the utter hopelessness that his life was seemingly becoming.

He found that his thoughts would wander to Ditiya too frequently and that only made him feel worse. It only made him want to claw out of his skin and rip out his hair all the more, because what kind of sick person thinks about Ditiya when they should be thinking about his dead wife? Then he would find himself on the floor somewhere, wracking with sobs until he felt he would burst.

But again the next morning, Dhruv would find himself back in front of his computer in his office, seated in his cushioned chair and sipping coffee, while working.

Most of the time, Dhruv didn't want to talk to people who didn't understand him. Who barely knew Shreya, those who have not experienced someone even half as important as Shreya?

Some of them try hard but they didn't get it, they couldn't. They never understood what it was like to live in a perpetual state of anger and grief and confusion, to feel an ache so wide it consumes them, but then to still manage to feel uncharacteristically okay, all at the same time.

The memories were hard enough, the ghost of Shreya running across his life or in inhibiting the pitying eyes of his mates. Everyone kept telling him that it was not his fault. That it was inevitable, that it was all some disease in Shreya's head, one that would've undoubtedly killed him without proper help. Dhruv got that; he knew how it all works. He should have known. He should have gotten out of his own selfish bubble, the one with thick walls and realized. There are columns in newspapers and so many blogs here and there yet he was so self-absorbed that he couldn't see what was right in front of him, sharing meals and a bed with her. Of course, Dhruv knew that Ditiya struggled with anxiety and bit of depression, but looking back, Dhruv never took it as seriously as he should have. Most of the time he would think Shreya was crazy. Until there was a slit on wrist and blood everywhere with Shreya's pale face and colder than ice body. Dhruv should have known. He should have done something. He should've pushed Shreya harder to get help, to see a better therapist, to stick to her medicine. He should've been more patient, should've been more understanding as opposed to annoyed and frustrated. He should have given the child she wanted so much. He should've loved her better, should've stuck through it. Should've, should've, should've and list of more thousands of should have.

He should not have been thinking of Ditiya. her smile, her natural beauty and the brightness of her eyes, those old incomplete feelings.

It had been four months, and while he missed Shreya more than he'd missed any one person ever. His thoughts had been on her far more than he would have believed, but he tried not to hate himself for missing Ditiya too. It had been two months since she left for Japan, and Dhruv had not heard a word from her since.

He knew he should not be angry, that he asked Ditiya to not meet or call after all. Yet, he found himself upset that Ditiya listened. He didn't mean it as a test; he was just confused and still was confused.

Now suddenly he longed to visit Japan, he wanted to taste the real sushi of Tokyo, made by an artisan sushi chef. He wanted a chance to go to the top of the Tokyo Tower and wanted to climb Mount Fuji and see the sunrise. But soon Dhruv sighed when he understood this lame excuse of his mind to meet with Ditiya again, to pay Ditiya a surprise visit.

Soon he wondered if she lived with someone else. He felt the long-familiar urgency of learning everything he could about her present life. He wanted her to wake up so he could see her brown eyes look at him, to see her smile at him.

But no sooner had this idea crossed his mind that he rejected it with horror.

Dhruv walked over to the couch, sat down and turned on the TV with the remote to some random sports channel that he really didn't give a damn anyway as it was broadcast football world cup. He kept the volume on low, but loud enough to hear it.

....................................