The evening is chilly and my maroon cardigan— that I've donned over the Zara dress —is the only thing keeping prickles from forming on my skin. There's a strong breeze coming over the ocean and it ruffles the fabric of my dress making me acutely aware of the present moment.
There's something warm and affectionate brewing between Aida and Daksh. My sour mood has not kept me from noticing the way they'd been sneaking glances at each other all night. I'm sure I'll hear about the details later.
There are spicy peanut vendors and Pani-puri carts on one end, it's busier on that side. We're a good kilometer away from the crowd but the breeze still carries in the scent of mixed spices.
The reflection of the city skyline on the still lagoon is the only thing keeping my heart steady. The time when I used to reach for Adarsh for the same effect has long gone. The grief of that ending comes in waves but the pain of separation is in the past as our relationship ended a year ago.
It begs the question, is there something still lingering between us? I wonder, as he walks in step with me, the reason why we could possibly be here again.
Are we reaching the end of a long drawn out climax, perhaps?
Adarsh walks next to me, his chest puffed out and eyes scanning the nearby area. Despite his complaining, he mentions a few times how much he enjoyed his food. Ever the walking bag of contradictions. At six feet he dwarves me and his stride is bigger than mine. I'm huffing, trying to keep up with him in my three-inch stilettos so I stop. Abruptly.
"What's wrong?"
Keeping up with you is no longer my job. Words are sitting ready at the helm of my tongue. I don't speak.
Something shiny catches the corner of my eye.
I turn to face the surface of the water and there's another tiny cart laden with gemstones, clear crystals, and pendants dangling from an overhead awning. There's a melon sized crystal ball at the center and a miasma of several different incense. A bowl on the side of the crystal ball has sage embering quietly.
The woman behind the ominous cart has stark white hair, shimmering through the smoke. There's a squeak in the wheels as she leans forward, her hands warped around the ball.
She speaks something.
"Your father loves you so very much."
A hitch of my breath reminds me where I am. Adarsh asks again, "what's wrong". Concern lace his words this time.
My words are lighter than the smoke coming in from the old woman's cart. "Did you hear what she said?"
Adarsh looks up from my face and towards the woman. His eyes gloss over the foggy details. He fixes his eyes on her and she smiles a wicked smile.
"What did she say?" His own voice is menacing.
The woman is more of a witch and the night suddenly feels heavier.
I free myself from Adarsh's grip, who is holding me hostage. His intention is to protect but it suffocates. The cart is ten steps away but it feels like I cover a hundred light years as I wander towards it.
The woman's face is bunched up in wrinkles covering her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. There's something puckish in her words and her tone is sing-songy like it's straight out of a disney musical. She whispers again, this time softly so only I hear it.
"You wish to know what he has to say to you?"
I'm about to sit on the four-legged, wooden stool when a strong arm yanks me by the elbow.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Adarsh's grip is digging hard into my skin and I'm confused by his reaction. I search for an answer in his eyes but find nothing but idle fury.
"Getting myself a crystal ball reading, what else?"
His frustration is palpable in the creases of his forehead.
"You seriously believe in this stuff," he eyeballs the woman, giving her the stink eye. If only looks could kill…
I pry away my elbow from his hand. "I don't have to believe in it to do it."
Aida and Daksh might've noticed something off between us because I see them walking towards us, looking concerned. I brush my dress and sit by the cart, ignoring Adarsh's temper-tantrum.
I understand his worry but my decisions are my own. A fact he's unable to grasp. There's no way I'm going to drill it into his head now after so much water has been over this bridge. I step away from the argument that's sure to ensue if I pursue the conversation any further.
Years of practice and lessons learned.
"Tell me."
The woman knows all too well what I mean. She gives another mischievous smile, I could swear she sized up Adarsh as she did.
She starts running her hands over the giant crystal ball. It is clear one moment but then it starts to smoke. The fog is clear first then it turns red then blue then green.
"You cut the cord," she mumbles. "Walk away, he says. This man is not good for you. Don't let him get you again." There's a warning in her tone.
My face ashens and I don't know which is more shocking, the truth, I fear, that lingers in those words or the fact that there's a slim chance I might not follow through on them.
Adarash is standing a few feet away, not daring to step any closer. Perhaps, it's his way of giving me the space I need or he's overcome with abject fear which he would be too prideful to admit. It's evident by his grimace that he heard the woman's divination.
The woman has more to say but Adarsh doesn't let her finish."I've heard enough." He comes in angrily, reaches over the side of the cart, and tosses the crystal ball off its pedestal.
The woman watches him attentively, a quiet mirth coating her grin. She doesn't seem enraged, simply amused. I press my lips apologetically and hand her a two-hundred-rupee note.
"You're angry, I get it." I whisper to Adarsh. "But you're not five years old."
My anger abates his.
We sit in quiet contemplation at the ledge that borders the beach. Neon colors reflected on the water, dance and shimmer.
"Maybe there's a way to let go of these feelings and walk away from each other for good."
Cut the cord.
He's honest but not apologetic when he replies. "These sorts of things are not my cup of tea."
"It's my cup of tea, Adarsh. You didn't have to be there."
A deep exhale. "This date was a bad idea."
A family passes by behind us. The mother holds her infant of barely two years old. There's the girl holding her father's hand. The baby cries.
"It wasn't our idea, Adarsh. Maybe this was a wake up call. We clearly haven't moved on and we obviously don't belong together. Maybe this is our chance to clear the air and walk away for good. Don't say the first thing that pops into your head. Just think about it."
He's quiet. I can tell he's mulling the words over, calculating all routes and possibilities. We were close but this has gone on for too long.
His voice is earnest when he speaks, the words contemplative. "Some part of me is hanging onto you. The familiarity is hard to let go of. Someone you know so well and someone who knows you so well. Every tic, ever jab, every habit that took years to memorize. It's too much to sever all at once," he exhales again. "But you're right. It's been a year and this bandaid should've been ripped off clean a long time ago."
It's an unlike-Adarsh thing to say. I can tell my words have been plaguing him. His, have been plaguing mine, too.
Much good it has done to both of us.
"So this is goodbye."
I hug him tight. He's taken aback by the action. For the first time in years I'm not afraid of letting go of him. It's freeing or it could just be the ocean breeze. It's easy to let this go and let it get washed away with the tide.
"Goodbye it is."
Aida and Daksh finally catch up to us.
"Everything okay?" Aida asks nervously.
"Yes, I was just telling Adarsh that it's about time we head home. He has an early morning meeting and I have some unfinished work piled up, too."
That's all the cue Daksh needs. We head home. The feeling of grief that comes from endings all but rips my heart out. I cry silent tears on the ride home unsure whether Adarsh could hear them. He doesn't let it show if he did.
Athena is sitting patiently at the door when we arrive. I pick her up, take her into my room, and slam the door shut harder than I intend to. With Athena nestled into my arms, I curl up into a ball and sob for the rest of the night until I fall asleep.