CHAPTER XL
My friendship with Rama had always been complicated. On the surface, it looked sweet—two girls sharing secrets, laughter, and dreams. But deep inside me, there was a storm I could never silence. The storm of jealousy. And with every passing year, it only grew stronger.
By the time we stepped into 12th grade, the jealousy had turned into a shadow that followed me everywhere. And it worsened the day I learned about her—the girl from England. The one who lived across the vast oceans, in London.
Rama told me about her so casually, as if it was nothing, as if it didn't matter. But to me, it felt like my world was cracking open. She said, "I've never seen her… but her words, they're so beautiful."
Those words pierced me like a knife. It wasn't just about Rama finding someone new—it was the fact that wherever Rama went, she seemed to find love, find people who adored her, while I… no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many girls I looked at with hope in my eyes, I was always left empty-handed.
Why was it always her? Why did the universe bend toward Rama, showering her with attention, with love, with things I craved so desperately but never received? I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake her and ask, "Why not me? Why is it always you?"
And the truth I could barely admit, even to myself, was this: I didn't want that England girl to love Rama. I wanted her to love me. I wanted her words, her affection, her secret thoughts that crossed oceans at night—I wanted all of it for myself. The idea that someone so far away, someone who had never even seen Rama, could fall for her just by her words made me furious. Because that was supposed to be mine. That connection. That love. That miracle.
I lay awake so many nights, my chest tight with an ache I couldn't put into words, imagining what it would be like if the roles were reversed—if the England girl whispered her thoughts to me, if her beautiful words were meant for me, if she belonged to me.
But no matter what I imagined, the truth remained the same: it wasn't me. It was never me. It was always Rama.
Today, when I went searching for Jasmine at Kanika's house, my eyes fell upon an old photograph of Rama.
In that single moment, the past came rushing back to me like an unstoppable wave. Old memories, old conversations, old wounds I thought I had buried deep—they all came alive again. I could almost hear the echoes of our laughter from those school corridors, the whispers of secrets shared under the dim light, and the sting of jealousy that once burned my heart whenever Rama's world seemed brighter than mine. For a second, it was as if time itself had folded, dragging me back into the very days I had tried so hard to leave behind.
But as the weight of the past pressed against me, there was also something else… something different this time. A strange relief, a quiet joy that wrapped itself around me. Because when I looked at Rama's picture, one truth hit me with a force stronger than all the pain of those memories—Sita had not chosen Rama. She had chosen me.
Sita belonged to me. Not to Rama. Not to anyone else. To me.
And in that moment, I felt an overwhelming determination rise within me. A vow, a promise etched deep into my bones. I would never, ever let Sita drift away from me. Not now, not ever. No matter what the world thought, no matter how much I had to fight, even if I had to stand against the entire universe—I would do it. For her.
Because Sita is mine, and I will protect her love with every breath I take.
I stood by the window of my room, the cool glass against my fingertips, my mind drowning in the chaos of today. Everything that happened kept replaying in pieces—my mother's harsh words, the silence that followed, and the weight of things I couldn't bring myself to say aloud.
And then, out of nowhere, I felt someone's arms wrap around me from behind. A warmth, firm yet gentle. I didn't have to turn to know—it was Sita.
She held me tightly, as if afraid I might break apart if she let go. Her voice was soft, almost trembling with concern.
"Ved… I know you're worried about your sister. And I know what your mom said hurt you deeply. But I need to know something… What happened there today? I still remember—I called you. You told me Jasmine was standing right in front of you. You sounded angry, like something had snapped inside you. But after that… what happened?"
Her question made my breath hitch. My heart slammed against my ribs. I froze, staring at the floor, terrified of what my eyes might reveal if I met hers. What could I say? How much truth could I risk?
I forced my voice to steady, though it came out thin, trembling beneath the weight of half-truths. "I… I was outside Kanika's apartment," I whispered. "At first, no one opened the door. When it finally opened, it wasn't Kanika—it was an older man. He told me Kanika had left the country… and Jasmine went with her."
Sita slowly moved to face me, her hands lifting, cupping both my cheeks as though trying to anchor me in this moment. Her eyes searched mine, sharp yet tender.
"Ved," she said, her voice almost breaking, "I don't know why, but it feels like you're not telling me everything. Either you're lying to me… or you're carrying something so heavy it's crushing you."
Her words struck deep. I wanted to look away, but her touch held me still. Inside, my thoughts screamed the confession I could never say aloud: Sita, you're right. Both of your doubts are true. I am hiding something. And yes, it's tearing me apart.
I gently took Sita's hands into mine, holding them as if they were the only thing keeping me steady. My voice came out low, fragile, yet forcing calmness I didn't really feel.
"Sita… it's nothing," I whispered, avoiding her piercing gaze. "Today was just… too heavy. Too much for me to take in at once. Please, don't worry. Just have your dinner, and then rest. You need it. I'll step outside for a while, clear my head… I'll be back soon."
Before she could stop me, before her eyes could search me deeper and tear apart the walls I was desperately holding up, I let go of her hands. My fingers slipped away from hers, and in that single moment, I felt both relief and guilt crash into me.
Without waiting for her reply, I turned and walked out of the room, the sound of the door closing behind me echoing like a secret I couldn't afford to share.
Sita stood frozen, staring at the door I had just walked through. Something inside her twisted—an ache, a suspicion she couldn't quite name. She wanted to believe me, but the tremor in my voice, the way my eyes had darted away from hers, it all told her otherwise.
And then… her phone rang.
The sudden shrill sound shattered the silence of the room. Sita flinched, her heart thudding as she reached for it. The screen glowed in the dim light, a name flashing across it. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the answer button.
A strange chill swept over her as if the call itself carried a warning, a piece of the truth I had just hidden from her. Slowly, almost fearfully, she accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear.
"Sita…" a voice whispered on the other side, heavy with urgency.
Her eyes widened, her body stiffened. Whatever she heard in that moment made her grip the phone tighter, her pulse racing, as if the world had just tilted into something far darker than she imagined.
And somewhere down the hall, far away from her, I was walking alone into the night, unaware that the secret I thought I had buried was already reaching her… through that one unexpected call.
To be continue....