The lift stopped on the third floor. Arnav gestured with his hand as he whispered, “After you!”He dug for the keys from his pocket as we moved into a quiet area dragging our trolleys. He opened the door and I was the one to step in first. As soon as the hall was brightly lit, I was awe-struck with the beauty of the place. The color of the walls was sea green. The lush, royal blue carpet perfectly complimented the giant black leather sofas which surrounded a small glass coffee table. A small wooden dining table with four chairs was kept in one corner. Although, it needed cleaning. Arnav’s bachelor life signs were clearly visible by the amount of dirt that was there on that furniture. We fell into the comfortable sofa, completely exhausted by our long journey, and my eyes stuck on the TV hung on the wall in front of us. “Arnav, is this all Arunima Bhabhi’s idea?”He closed his eyes absorbing that comfort as he said lethargically, &ldq

A week passed by, and we kind of fell into a routine. We started going for walks together in the mornings and I found a maid for us. We were happy to connect with people in our building and we were lucky that we had good neighbors. My clothes had changed from those heavy, traditional sarees and suits to mostly lightly flared dresses, shorts and T-shirts. However, I did face challenges there. I got bored spending the whole day in that lonely house, and I was already running out of novels. I remembered our conversation from that night so many weeks ago, and, after years, I decided something for myself. I had always been a creative person. I loved art of any kind, from dancing to making rangoli, I had loved everything. But, as the years passed by, all of that kind of slipped away. Maybe that’s why I opted for literature for my degree program. Because writing, in my opinion, was a form of art. And a true artist doesn’t only create masterpieces but also takes ti

When the doorbell rang in the middle of the weekday, I was not expecting my husband to be standing at the gate. “Arnav, how come you’re back so early?”He smirked, “Kriti, won’t you let me come inside? Are you asking me to leave again?”“No,” I quickly moved aside, “it’s nothing of that sort. It’s just strange for you to be home early. What happened? Not feeling well?” “No, I’m alright,” he rushed into the hall, throwing a stack of files on the table. “More than just alright, actually. I am here because Golu is on his way, I just wanted to stop by and let you know before I go to pick him up.”He was unusually cheerful, and it made me happy to see him like that.“Oh! Great. So, I’ll prepare everything then.”“Don’t worry about all that, I’m just excited to meet him after so long,” he said, sound

Six years ago, September: It has been a long time since I have had a chat with you dearest Diary. But today, something happened at college. You know that I have been nominated as the Cultural Society President. It would not have been possible without Mumma and all my teachers.Today, I was trying to explain to the girl playing Laxmibai in the upcoming youth fest drama, that she must make her character more compelling and she’s got to enhance the dialogue on her own. But she was not ready to listen to anything. Instead, she just picked a fight with me. I was all alone there, with her, and she got so angry. I was actually scared for a moment. But you know, that hideous basketball player in our class, Sameer, he heard what was happening, and he stood up for me.I would have never, ever expected that from him. I’ve never even talked to him before. He was just in a few classes with me, and oc

Five Years Ago, January: Dear Diary, each passing day is becoming more and more difficult for me. I just can’t forget the things he said to me after reading that letter. The first thing he asked me was, “why?”He asked me why I loved him. Does that even makes sense? Is there ever a reason why we love someone the way we do? Is it even under my control? Couldn’t he see that, with every day that passed, after that first conversation of ours, that I felt something? I fell for him. Head over heels. He made me feel special, made me feel like he cared about me, and I loved him for it. We’ve spent so many days together, and I now realize that I spent those days in a lie of my own manufacturing. I was so sure he loved me. But he doesn’t.He said, “can’t we just be friends?”What kind of friendship is this? What kind of friend sits by your si