It was like watching a repeat telecast.

A telecast featuring the pathetic Breakups of Natasha Patil.

I was plunged into a familiar cave of darkness. The same numbness. The same heartache. Except it had a different name— Kunal. His dimple smile haunted me everywhere. It made sure to sting me with memories replaying like a horror movie— Our times at the apartment, the nearby street, the harbor, workplace, mobile. Especially my goddamn mobile that contained photos of me— of us— all clicked by him. I almost threw it across the room once.

The first heartbreak was already breaking enough, now it seemed like a cruel, running joke played by the universe.

When the office became too heavy, I excused myself for a break. I stepped outside the office with a cigarette in hand. My third one today. Then, like clockwork in reverse, my brain rewound itself as if Kunal was there, whispering in my ear.

“Don't stop smoking altogether because then, you'll only crave more. Lessen your intake. You'll have the trick your mind so it doesn't fuck you up... Basically, procrastinate. It oddly works.”

Tears spilled past my sore eyes, submerging into my trembling lips. Then, into laughs. You know the kind of laughter that had no meaning behind it. I didn't bother wiping tears because what was the fucking point? I tucked the cigarette back into my pocket and went to the washroom, hoping to refresh myself. It did little to ease my heavy heart. Soon I returned to the office.

~ ~ ~

“What will you have, Nat?... Um, how about I bring your favourite burger for you... Fries?” Irfan's distant voice spoke as the three of us sat in the canteen.

‘I have a craving to eat rouleaux veggies, Kunal.’

‘Well then, let's make your pretty little stomach gobble those rolls. Let's go.’

“I'll have rouleaux veggies,” I replied numbly.

“That's the third time you've asked for rolls this week. What about you, Vansh? Wait, why am I taking your orders?” Irfan added with displeasure. Vansh and Irfan went on with their usual nonsensical banter, though it did little to prick my funny bones. Suddenly they stopped and turned their attention at me, their faces etched with worry. 

“Haha, funny,” I said, my face devoid of a real smile. My voice sounded like a random music note, played out of sync. Both men grimaced.

“It's okay, Natasha. I'll bring your roll.” Irfan spoke with pity before going away.

When I forced the facial muscles to twitch, Vansh cringed more. “Please don't bother. Suaar ki aulad lagri hai.” (You are looking like a child of a pig)

That actually got a reaction out of me as I shot daggers. Sometime later, the three of us began with our routine lunch. I only took a few bites though. My hunger was on vacation at the moment. Irfan was sweet enough to get me tea while also bringing one for himself. I thanked him. Both Vansh and Irfan knew what was up. I had already told them what reduced me to a crying damsel, so I didn’t bother masking it. I propped my head down the table, groaning. Both my heart and uterus were punching my insides. I closed my heavy eyelids.

Only to feel a hand over my warm forehead.

“Am I burning or are you burning?” Asked a skeptical Irfan. Curious, Vansh mimicked his action by touching my forehead too, and confirmed my rising temperature. I rolled my eyes before he added. “You are clearly not well. Go home.”

“Right after I took three days leave for Mexico? No thanks. I rather pass out here and let them see me in my workaholic glory,” I said dryly while continuing to lie down. The men sighed. “If you'll excuse me, boys. This sickfuck needs her beauty sleep for a few minutes.”

~ ~ ~

“Next station is Kylie's apartment. Doors will open on the left. Please wake up and mind the gap,” I heard an automated voice speak from afar. I blinked my eyes open. It took me two seconds to realise I was in a cab and the automated voice was actually Vansh. I stared at the glass window of the car where my head was at. When did I doze off? And why my skin felt a hundred degrees hot?

Nonetheless, I got out of the taxi, never minding that Vansh paid for the fare this time. It was his idea to take the cab today since I was a sick damsel on my period. I gritted my teeth as I felt a sharp jolt in my lower abdomen. Fuck you, mother nature!

Vansh excused himself to the apartment for a quick washroom break. I rolled my eyes when I spotted him in the kitchen gulping water in a hurry as if he was eager to exit the premises. Come to think of it, he behaved the same last time, too. My nose crinkled in annoyance. “Will you relax, weiner? Just because this is a ladies apartment, doesn't mean we will gobble you up. Chill!”

He stopped mid-way, turning to face me with disdain. “Fine, I'll leave slowly and steadily.”

In any other scenario, that line might have gotten a chuckle out of me but alas, it barely shook a nerve. I simply resigned to my bedroom and sat down. I stole a glance at the pink diary lying at a shelf like a speck of dust. My eyes kept drilling at it like a pending assignment.

“Okay, I'm off now. You get— Natasha?”

“Vansh?” I exclaimed, wide-eyed but was more startled by him finding me in a state of tears. How dare he? I blinked rapidly, turning away. My voice was hoarse. “I thought you were gone.”

“I was going to. What happened? Missing him?” His voice was laced with concern. He walked closer until he sat on the edge of bed at a considerable distance from me. He scratched his head, adding mockingly. “Which one?”

“Asshole!” I snickered, smacking his arm. But then my smile faded, giving way to guilt. “Maybe both. Haha, how shameless am I? I keep remembering the drunk phone call from Rithik and his words that gave me hope. I was so ready to have him though he said to forget about it afterwards. He's so confusing. One moment he wants me, the next he doesn't, then he does— like what the fuck do you want me to do, Rith? I seriously can't understand his intentions anymore!”

“So he did call you,” Vansh muttered under his breath but I heard it.

“What? Anyway, I miss Kunal more since he was physically here until recently. See there?” I pointed my finger to the shelf near the window. “That's my pathetic diary. I haven't written a word after Kunal left. Doctor Ivy tells me to write if I feel overwhelmed. Instead, I kept reminiscing how Kunal read it without my permission. I even showed him some of my other notes later on. He smiled and said... he said—”

I couldn't continue as the words got stuck in my clogged throat, filled to the brim with anguish. My lips trembled. I buried my head into my hands, my shoulders shaking as I broke down. Every brain cell told me not to cry in front of a bloody colleague, but both my heart and eyes were past the limit. I had no control of it. I gritted my shaky teeth under my covered hands, tasting salt in my mouth.

Vansh didn't say much through my rant. It was relieving and embarrassing, both. Just then, I felt a hand, giving my shoulder a light squeeze. I uncovered my wet face to notice his expression, grim. I averted my eyes. 

“I feel pathetic, V,” I said, sniffing. I extended my arm to meet his hand on my shoulder— the little touch grounding me. “First Rithik came and I pushed him away. Then Kunal arrived three months later, and I pushed him away, too. I lost two gems in one year. Bravo, me! Perhaps a relationship was never in my cards. What's the point if I never feel the way I should? If I never behave the way I should. If I don't commit. What if I'm always meant to be just that— A slut.”

Vansh withdrew his arm from my shoulder. I turned my head to find him looking crossed. I recoiled when he raised a hand, but then retracted it. “Mann karda ae tainu ik jhaapad laa davaa. (I feel like giving you one tight slap).”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up!” He cut me and I clamped my mouth on force. “Are those therapy sessions for naught? Do you honestly believe you don't deserve better?” 

“No, I mean, I know I deserve good. I deserve love. But sometimes, I—”

“Then stop with the pity party! Look, I still don't know the whole picture so I can't judge. However, most decisions aren't taken by one person alone. The other person chooses, too. Your Rithik chose not to go along with your break request. You chose not to go along with his. And the other guy, Kunal was it? What a weirdo! He made a decision too. He couldn't go along with your feelings. So it's not just you. I'm not saying to shift all the blame to them. Just don't weigh everything on your shoulders. You are not a martyr anyway... Woah, I should pay heed to my words, too.” He told the last line to himself.

“Hmm, maybe I won't. Thanks. That was smart advice...” I said and found myself smiling a little as I looked at Vansh. When he regarded me questionably, I added. “You remind me of Abhi sometimes. I see a shadow of him in you.”

“Who is Abhi, now? Another one of your heartbroken aashiqs?” 

“No~ He's my bestie.”

“What kind? Look, I don't know what bestie means in your ‘dicktionary’. Knowing you, it could very well be besties with benefits— Ow, ow!” Vansh continued to mock the hell out of me. He displayed his arms in defence while I smacked him.

Vansh got up from the bed while I lay down to ease the rumbling of my bloated stomach and fever. A few minutes later, I was astonished to see him bringing two glasses of banana shakes. I gulped down the shake, feeling its cool thick liquid, refreshing my insides. It made me feel slightly better. I thanked him.

“I get what you mean though,” Vansh said, his tone serious as he walked towards the window, continuing to slurp on his drink. A few seconds passed in dead silence.  “You don't want to lose people. You want to hold on tight as you can. But life happens. Change happens. People slip away and you can do nothing but watch. It kind of breaks your heart...”

There was an ache in his voice I never recognized before. Not on him anyway. His gaze drifted miles away as if reminiscing an old wound only he knew.

“Are you talking about your ex—” I began.

“God, look at me getting all senti. Seriously, I'm no good in these talks. Yosh, I'm off now. You rest while I go and watch my favourite show. I hope you feel better though,” Vansh said with a smile that never reached his eyes. He took my glass along with his and kept it in the kitchen. Seconds later, I heard the sound of the main door closed shut. I snuck into my covers with a tired sigh.

“Is it me or do most people around me seem to be suffering more these days?”

~ ~ ~

It had been close to three months since I began my therapy sessions with Doctor Ivy. With time, I opened up about my childhood, family, school, relationships, Tejas, etc. Most of these sessions were about how I felt and coped, rather than my autobiography. According to her, I've been making substantial progress so far. Though the past two sessions were mostly me cribbing about Kunal’s departure and my inconsistency with Rithik.

However, Doctor Ivy had something else to say in my current session.

“Did you meet any adults recently? I'm not talking about the ones from your workplace. Someone who's a parent.”

“A parent...” My eyebrows scrunched in thought until they shot up. “Does meeting a friend's parent count? Kylie's parents— Mr and Mrs Walker came to visit her two months ago. Her brother Tyler as well.”

“Yes, that counts...” Ivy paused when an assistant arrived bringing two cups of coffee— one for her and me. She thanked the assistant before flickering her gaze to me, coolly. “Tell me how it went with them? How did you feel while meeting them?”

Now where was she going with this? Nonetheless, I recited. Well, if I had to summarise my feelings into one word, I'd say envy. I envied Kylie— especially the way her parents lovingly doted on her. So much so that it fucking stung. While Kylie's life was not exactly a bed of roses, but atleast her she shared a rosy relationship with her family. Sure, her family argued about pointless things and often roasted each other. But they also brought her a bunch of expensive souvenirs (they were fucking rich so no surprises there), celebrated her birthday, hugged one another— and my God did they hug a lot. It made me ponder how I'd have turned out if I had parents like hers. What I wouldn't do to attain a love like that? A lump formed in my throat.

“Did you get along with Kylie's family?”

“I'm not quite sure,” I answered truthfully and took a sip of the coffee, its caffeine hitting my nostrils. “I mean they didn't hate me or such. They were kind. It made me wonder why I was anxious to meet them in the first place.”

“Why do you think you were anxious?”

“Again, not sure. I...” I trailed off, my fingers fidgeting with my elbow. “Perhaps I get this impression that they won't like me. You know, since I have a history with adults who didn't like me. I get all tensed up...” I lifted my eyes to meet hers in recognition until it turned to disdain. “Please don't tell me there's a phobia related to this, too. Perhaps I should commission myself as the brand ambassador of phobias.”

Even Ivy chuckled at that. She adjusted her specs. “Thankfully, there's no such phobia for this one. And I'm letting you process your emotions, dear. So that you recognise and work towards it. Not tag you under a disability.”

“So it's not a phobia? But like, how could you deduct that?”

Ivy kept her touch pen aside and threaded her fingers together. “As I stated, this isn't a legit condition. What I'm doing is making you recognize your behavioral patterns. Your fears. The first step is to notice, which you did by yourself. I'm proud of you.”

I wasn't feeling that proud though. My voice was low. “What kind of behavioral pattern?”

Then Ivy told me how she could deduce a pattern from our several sessions. It wasn't just interactions with my parents, but other parents and relatives, too. This included the disastrous events with Tejas and his treacherous family. And even my  encounter with Rithik's family. How I was nervous shitless when his father told me he wanted to talk about something. So much so that I wanted to throw up initially. Thankfully, Mr Arora turned out to be a much more decent person. Too bad the same couldn't be said about the rest of Rithik's family- especially his nosy Bua whose disastrous encounter got me into a panic.

Ivy further explained how years of abuse and judgement from adults had instilled a fear within me. That I'd be judged and ridiculed even before meeting them. The ones who were supposed to protect and make me feel safe turned out to be the very ones I ran away from. That fear and anxiety carried on like a bacterial rot inside me. Hence my dread before meeting any parental figure. Tears burnt at the back of my eyelids as Ivy explained this. I squirmed myself with my jaw clenched.

Crying had become a norm here. I've been shedding tears in every other session while Ivy held the space for me with empathetic words. I didn't think I broke down up in front of anyone as much as I did with Ivy. Then again, she was a professional who was used to the client's hysteria. I bet she would be beside herself with joy internally. The more clients opened up, the more beneficial. Regardless it couldn't deter away from the truth. I bloody hated what I heard but I couldn't deny it either.

Was this where my fear of settling down stemmed from? Cause marriage wasn't just about two people but their families, too.

“This is not on you, Natasha. Remember that,” Ivy corrected me quietly. “Sometimes your body remembers things more than your mind. It absorbs that fear, hurt, and shame. So when you meet an adult— someone who's older, authoritative, parental— your body immediately latches onto that memory and sends a warning signal even if there's none. A survivor's trauma response.”

Apparently, everything was a trauma response in my case. I absentmindedly ran my fingers around the plush rabbit beside me. “So, what now? Would I need to re-wire from that conditioning, too? Sounds like a task, Ivy. At times, I get exhausted from all of this. It's too much,” I said tiredly while resting my head against the plushie, closing my eyes momentarily.

Doctor Ivy offered a soft smile when I looked. “It's perfectly natural to be exhausted. We have our limits. You've been processing multiple things, though I've been careful to let you act on them one-by-one. Hence why the sessions are weekly. But we can shift to biweekly at times. You are free to miss my next session or have a fun interactive one.”

“As for your first question, you've already passed the first step, dear,” Ivy further spoke and I met her gaze across the table. “You've carried this fear for so long but it finally surfaced today. That awareness— that's your first step. So whenever you meet a parental adult and your body tenses— recognise what you're feeling first. Tell that this is your old wound speaking. Doing this will make you the one in control of your body and not the other way around. It separates you from that fear.”

“Sounds like a derivative to solve.”

“Certainly, but once you know and practice, it will become easier for you. Remember this, Natasha—” She said, her voice turning a pitch serious, catching my attention. “You were young and helpless when the abuse happened. You had nowhere else to go. But things have changed now. You are a fully-fledged adult. Independent. You always have the option to disagree or walk away from something that doesn't benefit you. To protect your peace. A power that the little Natasha didn't have. But you have now. You are the one in the lead, not them.”

A power that the little Natasha didn't have. That line felt like a dagger through my chest. Tears stung at the back of my eyelids. If only little Natasha had that power, she wouldn't have to go through its side-effects now.

Doctor Ivy further suggested a few more things I could do to tackle such scenarios. To make my body understand that not every parent was a potential threat. If possible, treat them like I treat the professional adults from my workplace. It was an insightful yet uncomfortable session.

Back at the apartment, I couldn't shake Ivy's words off my head. It stuck on me all day, rendering me hopeless and hopeful both. If I didn't bore these fears, then I might have not broken up with Rithik in such an abrupt fashion. Perhaps I might have gotten committed to Kunal in the past, too. Though that wouldn't guarantee how our relationship would have turned out later. I let out a tired sigh, telling myself to stop lamenting on my past decisions. In the end, I scribbled down my thoughts in my corny ass diary, did some meditation and slept.

*

The heartbreak began to numb itself as the days passed by. Like dressing an old wound with new skin. But when you've been in that silence for too long, you wished to escape. And what better way to do that with a weekend getaway with my Kelly.

Yet this time it wasn't a club or a beach— it was an orchard.

Honey Pot Hill orchard was an hour away from Boston and apparently, one of the best in town. Apple picking was like a tradition that the locals did every fall. Yet it was the first time for me and needless to say, the experience was exemplary.

Kylie and I wore cute tees with shorts for the occasion. We headed over to the apple farm with our tote bags. My eyes raked over the vast green patches all around, blooming under the faint afternoon sunlight. There were rows upon rows of apple trees— some small, some huge ones. The air carried a distinctive smell of apples, hay, earth all at once. At times, Kylie and I picked apples planted well within our heights, while at other times we had to climb a ladder to fetch it. It was a simple physical activity yet fun.

At times Kylie and I ended up picking on each other just like the activity, pun intended. We challenged ourselves to pluck the highest ones. Despite her somewhat frail figure, Kylie was quite a pro. She climbed with ease and managed to choose the ripened ones. Though I proved myself to be a quick learner, too. We ended up mocking on occasion when one of us failed to fetch it. Especially that one time when an apple fell straight on the top of my head and I made a looney toon cartoon- like face. I had to hold myself until I climbed off the ladder to burst out laughing while Kylie was practically wheezing on the ground.

Our limbs gave away an hour and half later, courtesy of our apple bags becoming heavier each second. We wiped our sweats off and stopped by a wooden cafe to rest. The scent of bread, flour and apples filled the air, making my stomach growl. We ended up having soup, mixed salad and cider doughnuts. Apparently, no apple picking excursion was complete without tasting cider doughnuts.

We even got an overview of the orchard through a fifteen-minute hayride led by a tractor. With everything heavily dominating over my life recently, this was a welcome change. It was serene, relaxing and therapeutic. I plopped my head over Kylie's shoulder despite our bodies hopping due to the movement of the tractor. I smiled in bliss. “Thank you for accompanying me, Kelly. I feel much happier today than I felt in weeks.”

Kylie leaned back as well, her blonde strands slightly swaying against the wind. “Don't thank me. I wanted to come here, too, but was too lazy to find the time. We should thank Doctor Ivy instead. It was her suggestion that led us here.”

“Yup. Ivy rocks.”

~ ~ ~

“Not fair, huh! You should have tagged me along. I never went to an apple picking orchard,” said Vansh after I recited about my experience at the Honey Pot Hill several days later. We were heading over to the subway after the office as usual.

“Sure thing. Perhaps you and Irfan can tag along next time. I'm sure Irfan will be more than willing to spend quality time with Kylie,” I paused to notice Vansh throwing me a skeptical look. I grunted. “Oh, come on! Don't you find it shady how they became online friends? They chat from time to time. It's hella sus!”

Vansh rolled his eyes, smiling still. “You say as if a man and woman can't be friends in this age.”

“Not every pair can be.” I said as a matter of factly. Just then, I spotted a food truck on standby, selling something that caught my attention. “Wait a minute. I'm fetching something.”

And purchased a packet of sweet roasted chestnuts, neatly tucked in a paper bag. As I neared Vansh's side, I caught him spacing out. From the outset, it seemed like his gaze was directly pointing towards...

“Looks like someone was busy checking my ass when I wasn't looking. How is it? Great shape, right?” I said, bemused as I slapped my butt.

Vansh got out of whatever stupor he was in as my words registered his head. His brows furrowed at my filthy comment just as I expected.

But then, he said something totally unexpected.

“Heh, ass?” He drawled, giving me a quick once-over. He blinked innocently. “Which one? Yours? Nah, I don't see one.”

My mouth fell open in shock. The audacity of this bastard! I brisk walked towards him in my heels and even twirled in my office pants and shirt once. “See clearly, Baweja, I have one!” I tried to prove it. He arched his head behind me but then shook his head again. I gritted my teeth, my temper rising. “Shithead! Clearly you need a size eight specs.”

“Pretty sure I won't be able to see yours even then. O' look—” He pointed his thumb over to a black woman who passed us by. She wore a brown body hugging one piece, her meaty curves visible in all the right places. He smirked. “Now that's what I call a killer looking ass.”

I snorted. “Cocky much?”

“Well, I'm the one with a cock so...” He said, then covered his mouth, looking elsewhere.

I blinked once. Then twice. How was he finding those lines? “For real though, what did you eat for breakfast?”

He took a cautious step closer and pulled his lips down mockingly. “Definitely not you.”

I gasped, shocked to the fucking T.  As for Vansh, he clutched onto his stomach, laughing loudly like a hyena. Even jumped and raised his fist mid-air as if he was declared as the man of the match. His eyes were practically twinkling. “See that? Did you see that, Natasha? Am I great or what? I can finally counterattack you. Bitch!”

“Tu ruk, saale. Abhi batati hoon tuje,” I spoke, shooting daggers at him. I unzipped my handbag at once, searching for a potential weapon. My eyes lit up as my hand caught hold of a long pointed clutcher. I had the pleasure to watch the color drain from his face as I held the clutcher like a knife.

“Oye, that's cheating. Why resort to violence over my verbal shoot?” Vansh said before he dashed off towards the subway station while I chased after him. We weren't eight-year-old kids, so we stopped after a while, catching our breaths. Soon we got into the train and carried on with the usual banter, standing, while clutching onto the grab handle.

“Careful,” I put up a caution in the wind, stopping Vansh from speaking. “With the way you spoke today, one might get the impression that you're hitting on me. Well, almost in your lame-ass way.”

“Hitting on you?” Vansh's nose crinkled in disbelief as if I spoke another language. “There's a limit to how much one can be delusional.”

“Hey!” I whacked his arm.

“I'm sure you must have been hit on plenty of times so you don't need more of that,” He said with a click of his tongue. He turned to me, his eyes becoming a tad bit sharp while I waited with a bated breath. The corner of lips twitched. “You only deserve to be roasted. From head to toe.”

“Is that so?” I tilted my head, my gaze intensified. Why did that sound hot coming from him? I took a tentative step closer, letting out a playful smirk. “Well, if it's coming from you, Vansh Baweja, maybe I won't mind being roasted by you.”

There was a pause. A beat as our gazes remained while the train continued its run. Perhaps my last comment caught him by the crook. He distanced away, rubbing his neck. “Don't rain on my parade, idiot. Let me win this round. I definitely upped you this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, here's my white flag, dumbfuck,” I said, waving an imaginary flag as a sign of defeat. We turned to each other again, only to share a laugh at the ridiculous exchange. Eventually, the train stopped at his station and Vansh left.

Just then, I received a call from home on my phone and my stomach dropped a little. I sighed before picking up. “Hi, Papa... Yes, I'm doing good. I'm on the subway right now...”

He soon placed his call on speaker so I could talk to both my father and mother. I recited about apple picking orchards and other things while they recited their daily lives. Funny, how well our conversations flew on the phone rather than the ones face-to-face. Were we better off this way or was I improving due to therapy? I didn't know.

Guess only time would tell.

A longer chapter this time. It's kinda my favourite as I enjoyed writing this. Especially, the roasting haha! What are your thoughts? Did you like it? And the therapy session? We are already into this new arc. Keep the time in mind. Time could pass in months between chapters. Vote and Comment.