Page 17 of No Other Love

Ping.A text notification buzzed on my phone.

I opened it pathetically quickly, eager to see if it was my wife needing something. After all, it was a new home, a new space for her. And even though she was truly adaptable, sleeping anywhere she could find, I hoped she saw the little touches in the house I’d built over the last year…

It was Sagar. My cousin.

Did you bring Bhabhi back safely and without World War Three?

I sent him a fuck you emoji. Irked at the playful way he referred to Anika as Bhabhi, Hindi for sister-in-law.

He sent me one back but then followed it up with,Seriously, Viku. You shouldn’t have played on her sympathies to bring her back. You can just tell your parents the truth, you know? Divorce is not the end of the world.

Really? Then why did it feel like mine had ended when I saw her signature on the petition?

***

I was about to respond when Sagar sent another text.I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business. And that you’re hurting. It’s just…it won’t be good for your hurt to see her again, will it?

But it does.I replied back before I could stop myself.

And it was true. The second I saw Anika at the bus stop, a shimmering jewel in a sea of grey and green, I was okay again. I couldbreatheagain. That tender wound in my heart which throbbed with every beat, subsided at her presence. It was unfair. It was underhanded. And yes, I should tell my parents the truth, that they got their wish and my wife was gone. But I couldn’t.

Because, facing this holiday without her, like I had last year was unbearable to me.

And maybe she didn’t love me anymore, maybe this was just pity, but I would take what I could get.

It does, Sagar. Everything’s better with her around. This town. Those four walls I call home. My self. Everything works with her. Is it so bad to want to hold onto that for seven days?

Sagar sent me theSMHemoji– which is shake my head. And then said, You’re hopeless. And if she is here, it seems she might be too. Give my love to her, okay?

I snorted. Fuck no. If anyone was giving their love to Anika, it was me. If she’d ever have me. Until then, I’d just daydream about the way she’d clutched the book, my book ‘Heartbreak Vows’ to her chest. It was about a couple who’d lost each other when they were young and were forced to marry each other as adults for reasons and spend all their time with each other, rediscovering all the things they had lost.

It was heartbreaking and affirming at the same time. The main reason I loved reading romances. They came with a neat happy ever after, no matter how fucked up the situation was.

And those spicy scenes were…

I squirmed in my seat again. I did not want to think of spicy scenes and Anika and me recreating them in my place of work. Especially when a patient could walk in any moment.

Eight

Vikrant

Luckily, or not, Sarita Bhosale walked in. She was in her sixties, had rheumatoid arthritis and refused to get a knee replacement. I was trying my hardest to get through to her, convince her but she was stubborn too. Maybe Anika could wear her down, I thought with a burst of inspiration.

Provided she ever wanted to visit the place she felt had broken us apart.

‘Vikrant! My leg hurts,’ Sarita aunty wailed in Marathi.Maazha paay dukhtoy.Dragging her feet one after the other.

I immediately sprinted over to her and assisted her to the medical table. It took some maneuvering, during which she updated me on her children and grandchildren’s activities. And thus began my day as the town doctor.

It distracted me from missing Anika too much now that she was here. In my life. In my town. In my home.

***

It was beyond lunch time by the time I wrapped up my last patient and drove back home quickly. Maybe Anika was awake and needed help. Although she was perfectly capable of looking after herself anywhere. I just wanted to be around, just in case.

I was so fucking whipped, I thought ruefully to myself. In romance-reader speak.

But I didn’t care. I was whipped for this woman since the second she sat down next to me and muttered to herself, “Fuck. I forgot my fucking textbook.”