Chapter 8: Mistaken Messages
My hands trembling, I sent him a WhatsApp message.
[Where are you?]
Unexpectedly, he replied instantly.
[Don’t be afraid, I’m here, I’m always here.]
Soon, that message was deleted.
The notification disappeared in front of my eyes. The sinking feeling in my chest told me: that message was never meant for me.
It must have been meant for her, but my sudden message made him send it to me by mistake.
My thirty-something missed calls and countless texts—he never replied. The one instant reply was a mistake.
I stared at the screen, numb. A message meant for someone else. A love meant for someone else.
“Didi, are you okay?”
A kind word from a stranger on the street made me realise my tears and snot were all mixed together, my whole body trembling.
A small boy in a school uniform tugged my sleeve, offering me a half-eaten Eclairs. “Don’t cry, Didi,” he said softly. I wiped my face with my dupatta, trying to smile.
That night, Rohan came to find me.
Seeing my swollen eyes, he didn’t ask anything, just calmly apologised.
“Sorry, something urgent came up. I’ll make up your birthday.”
He stood in the corridor, holding a single Dairy Milk bar and a wilted rose from the hostel gate flower stall. The gesture felt more like an obligation than love.
I lowered my head, my eyes too swollen to open, and spoke carefully.
“Rohan, can I ask you for one thing?”
Maybe my tone was too serious, too different from my usual carefree self. Or maybe it was the first time I called his full name. Anyway, he suddenly stood very close to me, not touching, but the distance between us felt more awkward than ever. His hands hovered at his sides, uncertain.
He said, “Okay, say it, anything.”
“Can you… delete Priya?”
I felt his body stiffen, even though he didn’t touch me.
He froze, then slowly stepped back. The air was thick with unspoken things.
I didn’t even need to look to know his brows were furrowed. He was angry.
He let go, stepping back, arms folded. The mask of the understanding boyfriend dropped in an instant.