My heart, body, mind, and soul all scream at once seeing the face that's been haunting my dreams for a year. He's standing transfixed looking equally as speechless, staring back at me in confusion and awe.
When the moment of shock passes me by, the pain rushes back and I have half a mind to turn around and run upstairs.
There's guilt painted all over Adarsh's expression, maybe he can see the hurt painted all over mine.
Something shifts, it's like he's suddenly reminded that we're right here standing in front of each other and not in another memory from a long time ago. His eyes travel down, down my neck to the necklace we'd both pitched in for back when we were going through a financial rough patch.
It took me too long to accept it as my own but it would've been a shame to throw all that hard work away. It doesn't lessen the urge to rip it off my body right now because Adarsh's piercing eyes seem to cut through the veneer of my composure.
Bold as he is, his eyes don't stop at my neck, they travel down further to the dress he used to love.
"You were going to wear that on a blind date?" I know what he means to say. "You wore yoga pants to our first date."
I am not amused. "If the whole evening is going to be a trip down memory lane, don't you think it would be too boring for Aida and Daksh?"
The two are standing quietly in the back, neither of them daring to interrupt. Aida knows the dirty details of this mess and Daksh is completely oblivious but perhaps it would be obvious to a total bystander too that Adarsh and I don't exactly get along.
"We could do it for old time's sake or call it divine will," he sounds convincing but I can't fathom why he would want to. Wasn't that the whole reason we separated? There was nowhere left for us to go.
"I think that's a bad idea." I turn around but then my eyes meet Aida's and she looks equally as shattered as I feel. Damn her empathy.
If not for the trainwreck that our relationship was, I could do it for her. Reluctantly, I turn around and get in the car fighting the urge to slam my shoulder into Adarsh's.
"Would it kill you to be a little less..." Aida had said, "... Safi-like?"
It might kill me but I can still try.
Awkwardness reigns supreme the entire car ride to Habeer's Kitchen, a newly opened, highly-rated Indian Barbeque restaurant at Cyber City. Adarsh and I avoid making any sudden movements lest we trigger each other's pent-up rage that we never resolved while we were still together.
"So, you're new to the city," says Aida to Daksh. "How is it treating you so far?"
There's visible tension in his muscles when he replies, "Not unkindly." His voice does not match his words. He sounds suddenly dull. Aida notices it too and considers it best to veer off topic.
"What about you, Daksh? How are things at Sysco?"
It's prudent of Aida to lighten the mood. I'm too riled up to do so but we cannot avoid conversation, it would only make things more awkward for everyone involved.
"I left Sysco a year ago," Adarsh says flatly but his Adam's apple bobs imperceptibly.
I'm too intrigued to bite back my tongue, "They would've offered you CEO in a couple of years. How could you walk away from that when you—"
I stop myself as care and concern that once lingered so familiarly between us comes back strongly like oncoming nausea. I remind myself —as I did countless times in the last year— it is no longer my place to worry about Adarsh Gyas.
He's dressed in a formal grey blazer and a black t-shirt underneath it, paired with grey trousers and black and white sneakers. It's his go-to outfit and I would've been bored by his greyscale wardrobe had he not looked breathtaking in it. Hair cleanly swept back. Shoulders, broad and commanding as always. His posture still speaks authority and it is a reminder of how small he is capable of making me feel. In a car, this crowded, even more so.
Tonight, he looks like regret and nostalgia. My own Zara dress has the opposite effect than intended. It was meant to leave a lasting impression on my blind date, instead I feel like a fugitive dressed in someone else's clothes like a version of myself that I no longer fit in.
"Sysco and I had different plans, I guess," he pauses and meets my gaze. "You know what that's like."
His words are like a blow but I don't respond. He is not wrong. Even though it's unfair to pin all the blame on me so shamelessly. But modesty isn't Adarsh's strongest suit.
Try as I may to relax and enjoy, disappointment is sitting raw and pulsing at my throat. Forty minutes have never been so long. I'm certain this turn of events is not the result of cosmic will, it's poetic justice. Some skeletons are better left buried or so we would think but the universe might think differently. I want the night to be over but it seems to stretch on forever.
We're ten minutes away from the destination when the traffic is held up by a chariot carried by two white horses. "Only in New Dali…"
When we finally pass by the carriage and onto the free road, the person manning it comes into view in his elaborate traditional clothing that looks straight out of a Bollywood movie or worse a fancy dress competition. The shiny, royal-blue, pointed hat that looks more like a turban is what gets me.
I burst out laughing and something about it is contagious because so does the rest of the group.
We arrive at the restaurant forty minutes later than we'd anticipated but the tension that hung in the night is all but gone. My chest feels lighter and the pain is gone. I reckon I could enjoy myself tonight.
We order food and it arrives on time, it tastes as good as the restaurant's ratings suggest. The conversation over dinner is quaint. Not superficial but not deep either. Too many eggshells to avoid. Nothing eventful happens but that might be a blessing in disguise.
The staff is cordial but Adarsh is as usual hard to please. He complains twice about his soup being delayed and then a few more times nitpicking about salad, his glass being empty, and insisting the staff they give our table some napkins to protect our clothes.
"Your service could be more hospitable if we look at the charges," he rambles on to the poor waiter, pointing at actual numbers on the menu which he deems too obscene to be on the page. This side of him is overbearing and most people would lose their minds being with him, but I find it endearing. It's clear to me that he's so particular about things because he cares a lot. God knows, his methods are whack. If he could only care about how he showed his care, we could still be together.
The thought is so pure and so intimate, I'm sitting transfixed for a second. Thankfully, no one notices. Some part of me still misses "us" but I reckon that goes away with time like the tides washing away hard edges of stones.
Once we're done, we don't head straight home which in hindsight is a big mistake.
"Let's take a walk by the promenade, it's quite lovely," Aida suggests and the idea sounds brilliant at the time.
It is only until we run into the oracle out of nowhere...