Page 6 of 12 Years: My Messed-up Love Story

‘Hey, everything okay?’

while sitting at the dining table. But I didn’t press send. It sounded too desperate. I deleted it.

Should I just call her? No. What if she was still at her parents’

house, where boys were banned? She could get into trouble. Maybe it was better to just double-text.

‘U there?’

I typed and pressed send.

No reply for thirty long minutes.

‘Just want to know you’re okay.’

Triple-text, an hour later.

‘You haven’t replied all day. Was getting worried.’

Quadruple-text, two hours later.

This time, I saw the typing notification on her WhatsApp chat window. Okay, clearly, she was alive. And typing out a reply. But then she stopped typing. Then she started again. My eyes remained glued to my phone screen.

‘Hi,’

she replied.

That’s it? After so many hours and quadruple-texts later, that’s all she has to say?

‘Hey there,’

I replied instantly.

‘There you are. What’s up?’

‘Just came back to Parel. About to go to bed.’

‘How was lunch at your parents’ house?’

‘Good.’

‘You didn’t message all day.’

‘Sorry, was tied up.’

Even on chat, I could sense her coldness.

‘Everything okay?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You didn’t respond all day. And even now, you sound distant.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You sure?’

She took a few minutes before responding.

‘I’m not okay with what happened.’

My heart sank.

‘You mean the whole evening? Aer, Bandstand, everything?’

‘No, all that was fine. But whatever happened at your place.’

‘What’s the matter, Payal?’

‘I know it happened in the heat of the moment. And it seemed okay then. But I’m not okay with all that now. The rest is fine. We can be friends.’

We can be friends?

Her words hit me like a jackhammer. One night ago, I was the first man she’d ever kissed. Less than twenty-fours later, I was being friend-zoned? What the hell happened? I couldn’t figure this out over chat.

‘May I call you?’ I said.

‘No. I’m tired. Have work tomorrow.’

‘We need to talk about this.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not that kind of girl, Saket.’

‘What kind of girl?’

‘Nothing. Good night, Saket.’

I flung my phone aside and flopped down on the bed, mentally preparing myself for a night of tossing around with no possibility of getting any sleep.

‘Payal,’

I called her. She had just come out of Express Towers, the building that housed the Blackwater office, and was waiting in the front porch for her car to arrive.

‘Saket?’

she said, turning around. She wore a black formal pantsuit, with a heavy laptop bag slung over her delicate shoulders.

‘Why aren’t you answering my calls or messages?’

I said.

‘I’ve been trying for days.’

‘I had a busy week.’

‘It’s Friday now,’

I said.

‘Can we please sit somewhere and talk?’

‘My dad’s driver is just about to get here. I have to go home tonight.’

‘Ten minutes, please.’

She leaned forward a little, craning her neck to look at the cars entering the building premises. She couldn’t spot hers.

‘Fine. Where do you want to go?’ she said.

‘Let’s go to Leopold. It’s close by.’

Nodding, she called her driver and told him not to come immediately and wait for a while instead.

Payal and I took a taxi to Leopold’s, a short five-minute drive away. The iconic restaurant in Colaba had become even more famous after the 26/11 terror attacks in 2008 when terrorists had stormed in and blindly opened fire at the people inside. The restaurant still had a window with bullet holes from that fateful night.

We entered Leopold’s, not having exchanged a single word throughout the taxi ride, and found it packed. Waiters scurried around, serving all types of customers, from backpacker firangs to investment bankers who’d just finished work in Nariman Point.

‘Beer?’

I said to Payal as we sat down facing each other.

‘No, just water.’

I told a waiter to get us a pint of draft beer, a bottle of water and a plate of masala peanuts.

‘How long had you been waiting outside my office?’

Payal said.

‘Two hours maybe.’

‘Why?’

‘Doesn’t matter. What’s going on, Payal?’

‘Nothing is going on, Saket. I told you.’

‘Told me what exactly?’

‘That I’m not comfortable with whatever happened.’

‘And instead of talking about it, you decided to just cut me off?’

‘I needed some space,’ she said.

Our eyes met for a brief second. The waiter arrived with our order. I took a sip of the chilled beer, along with a spoonful of the spicy peanuts, mixed with a generous sprinkling of raw onions, green chillies and coriander leaves.

Payal played with her glass of water.

‘I thought we had an amazing evening that day,’ I said.

‘It was just too much.’

‘I know. I admit that. We went too far, way too soon. But it just felt like we have this insane chemistry and—’

‘Saket,’

she interrupted me.

‘please understand … I’ve not done anything like this. With anyone. And then …’

‘Then what?’

‘I felt so guilty the next day.’

‘Why did you feel guilty? We’re both single and we both like each other. That’s what happens when a man and a woman like each other.’

‘This stuff should ideally happen after marriage. At least that’s what I’ve been brought up to believe.’

‘Are you serious? Look at all the couples in this restaurant. Most of them are not married. You think they aren’t going to do anything tonight?’

Payal looked around. Two tables ahead of us, a young twenty-something couple was kissing.

‘I’m not that kind of girl,’

Payal said.

‘Neither is the girl at that table. She’s just kissing her boyfriend.’

‘But we aren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend,’

Payal said in a high-pitched voice.

‘Calm down,’

I said.

‘Please. Don’t be upset.’

I placed my hand on hers, but she pulled her hand away.

‘Did you eat dinner?’ I said.

She remained quiet. After a minute, she shook her head.

‘Let’s eat some food. People are allowed to do that, right?’

Without waiting for her to respond, I summoned a waiter.

‘Madam is Jain. What can we order?’ I said.

The waiter suggested we order either a pizza or Indian vegetarian fare, made Jain-style. I chose the latter, ordering a yellow dal, paneer masala and rotis.

‘Also, can you get some peanuts without the onion?’ I said.

‘And a glass of white wine,’

Payal said.

The waiter nodded and left.

‘Thanks,’

she said, looking down at her hands.

‘Don’t be so formal,’

I said.

‘And may I say something?’

She looked up.

‘I hear what you feel about that evening. I get it. I know how it must’ve come across.’

‘How?’

‘Me, an older man, married and then divorced. You doing things for the first time. Sort of creepy on paper.’

‘I …’

Payal said after a pause.

‘I wouldn’t say it was creepy. But it was a bit fast.’

‘I agree.’

‘Thank you.’

‘No need to say thanks. Would you like to know how I felt?’

A tight nod.

‘Firstly, I didn’t plan it. I never thought you’d come home.’

‘I know,’ she said.

‘I loved hanging out with you, at Aer and then the walk.’

‘I did too.’

The waiter came back with her glass of wine. She took a sip.

‘It felt magical to have you at my place. Ever since you left, every day I imagine you sitting at the ledge.’

She smiled. I looked straight into her eyes.

‘It’s been years since I felt connected to someone like this. My marriage died four years ago. Not since then.’

Her eyes still guarded, she said, ‘Why me?’

‘I cannot explain it. We have a connection. Maybe the way you supported me when I was nervous. Maybe it’s how much I enjoy talking to you, even helping you in your work. It’s how you’re witty and smart and, of course …’

‘Of course, what?’

‘You’re beautiful. I’ve never been as attracted to a woman as I’m to you. Maybe that’s why things went so fast.’

We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. She shifted in her seat, looking unsure about how to react.

I spoke again.

‘Payal, if being boyfriend and girlfriend is what it takes, I’d love for you to be my girlfriend.’

‘I’m twenty-one. You’re thirty-three. We have a twelve-year age gap.’

‘So what?’

‘You’ve been married and divorced. I’ve never even been in a relationship. How is this ever going to work?’

‘How do you know it won’t?’

She stayed quiet.

‘You must’ve felt something too,’

I said.

‘that you made me your first.’

‘Like you said, it wasn’t planned. It just happened. I also felt something, yes, but Akanksha said—’

‘Akanksha?’

I interrupted her.

‘That girl who was supposed to come with you for the show that day?’

‘Yes. Akanksha is my best friend. We tell each other everything.’

‘Okay. What did she say?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘I definitely want to know.’

‘She told me to stay away from you. To cut off all contact.’

‘Which is exactly what you did.’

‘She even asked me to block your number. But I didn’t do that.’

‘Thank God for small mercies,’

I said sarcastically.

‘I freaked out. You must understand, Saket, it was all too much. We barely know each other, and yet, so much happened that night.’

‘I know. But like you said, it just happened.’

She exhaled.

‘Akanksha also said that this is just a crazy infatuation. Doesn’t mean anything.’

‘And? What else?’

‘That you’re just this older guy looking for some young piece of action.’

I took a deep breath to remain calm.

‘And you believed her?’ I said.

‘She’s my childhood friend. We’ve been together since school. I trust her.’

‘What does this Akanksha do?’

‘She’s a housewife. She’s also an Instagram influencer. Just starting out though.’

‘You said childhood friend. She’s your age then?’

‘Yes. She married early.’

‘Wow.’

The waiter arrived with our food. I quickly served both of us.

‘I don’t know about Akanksha,’

I said, tearing a piece of roti and dipping it in the dal.

‘All I know is that I’ve never waited outside an office building to just talk to a girl. And I probably never will.’

‘I’m sorry I cut you off like that,’

Payal said.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not experienced in all this and—’

‘It’s all right, Payal,’

I said, interrupting her mid-sentence.

‘And I want to say something about the physical stuff as well.’

‘What?’

‘It can wait.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, you’re right. We don’t know each other well. We took things too far the other night. And one more thing.’

‘What?’

‘You’re not just some young piece of action for me,’ I said.

She looked at me. Our eyes locked.

‘Can you trust me?’

‘I’ll try,’

she said in a subdued voice.

For the next few minutes, we ate our dinner in silence until Payal spoke again.

‘I overreacted. I’m sorry, really. I shouldn’t have cut you off. It was immature of me.’

I shrugged.

‘And sorry for leaving like that the next morning. That was rude. You’d put in so much effort in arranging that nice breakfast.’

‘You must’ve been processing a lot.’

‘I’ve told you about my upbringing, right? Even speaking to boys is a sin. All of this, it’s a complete no-no.’

‘I understand.’

‘Also, Akanksha said I’m making a big mistake. It’s my older-men crush thing. She said I’ll just end up getting used.’

‘So, you have a crush on me …’ I said.

She smiled.

‘You understand her point? Both of us might just be indulging in some weird fantasy,’

Payal said.

‘Like what?’

‘I’m this innocent twenty-one-year-old you get to do things with. It makes you feel young and helps you get over your divorce. You, on the other hand, are this mature, experienced man who’s giving me loads of attention and I’m drawn to it.’

‘Wow, you’ve really been thinking about this a lot.’

‘More like overthinking. Which I’m an expert at. Anyway, all of this may not be real, Saket.’

I responded after a few moments.

‘Maybe you’re right. Only time will tell. But so what? As long as we like spending time together, who cares?’

‘Is it that simple?’

‘Payal, don’t live your life to please others. I did that, and I regret it.’

We finished our dinner in silence after that.

‘Thanks for listening to me,’

Payal said.

We had come out of Leopold’s and were standing by the street.

‘Thanks for listening to me. Do you want to call your driver?’

Payal looked at me for one long second.

‘Or I can just send him back,’

she said.

‘If you want to hang out some more, that is.’

I looked at her for a few seconds.

‘Sure,’ I said.

She called her driver and asked him to go home.

‘What do you feel like doing?’ I said.

‘I don’t mind sitting on your window ledge and having green tea.’

I looked at her, taken aback. What was this woman?

‘I love sitting on that ledge. Can we do that, please?’ she said.

‘Green tea?’ I said.

Payal sat cross-legged on my window ledge, looking somewhat uncomfortable in the pantsuit.

‘Sure,’

she said, looking down at the street below.

‘Or actually wait, do you have some wine?’

‘Really?’

‘Please don’t judge me. I only had that one glass at Leopold’s. It’s the weekend, and I had a rough week—fourteen-hour workdays.’

I went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of white wine. Like the last time, I sat on the opposite end of the ledge, facing her.

‘So, how’s work?’

I said, deciding to stick to neutral topics.

‘Busy. We’re about to close a deal, and there are thousands of pages to read.’

‘Yeah. Private equity is mostly reading legal documents. I don’t miss that part.’

‘How’s your work going?’

‘I had to work on a new set last week. Couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Too disturbed and preoccupied.’

‘Oh? Why?’

‘Someone ghosted me.’

‘Ouch. Sorry again.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You’re here now.’

‘Can I get away with claiming that I’m too young?’

‘You’re old enough to sift through private equity legal documents. But I guess you’re too young to know how to communicate your feelings.’

She laughed.

‘Something like that,’

she said, taking a sip of her wine and gazing out of the window. We sat in silence for a few minutes.

‘Do you miss her?’

she said eventually.

‘Who?’

‘Raashi.’

‘No, not really. We shared some good times in the beginning. But those memories are hazy. Only memories of the divorce are fresh.’

‘I’m sorry.’

I shrugged.

‘I shouldn’t have told Akanksha about you.’

‘It’s okay. She’s your best friend.’

‘Yes. But I’m not like her.’

‘Really?’

‘Akanksha is what my parents want me to be. No boyfriends. Married at twenty. Loves cooking and taking care of the house.’

‘Twenty? That’s early.’

‘Yeah, to Suraj Chandak. A boy chosen by her parents. She’s Marwari, so it had to be a Marwari boy.’

‘Didn’t you say she’s an influencer?’

‘She’s trying to be one. Guess what her account is all about?’

‘No idea.’

‘Being a proud housewife. It’s called Home Diva. It’s about how she’s living her best life as a housewife. She’s always posting stuff about the dishes she makes, the rooms she decorates and the mangalsutra she wears.’

‘Is she doing well?’

‘More than you can imagine. Loads of comments from men telling her that she’s really a domestic goddess, and that they want to marry a girl just like her.’

She opened Instagram on her phone. She showed me an account calle.

‘AkankshatheHomeDiva’. It had twenty thousand followers. Akanksha resembled a moderately attractive Indian housewife from one of those TV serials where mothers-in-law plot to hurt their daughters-in-law all day long. Most of Akanksha’s posts had her wearing a saree or a salwar kameez, along with gold jewellery. Her most recent post was about her observing Karva Chauth by fasting for her husband’s long life all day. She had shared pictures of herself performing puja and animatedly spotting the moon. She’d also written a caption about how fulfilled she felt as a woman doing these rituals. The post had many comments, most of them praising her.

‘Upholding Indian values, amazing!’

‘I want my daughter to be like you.’

‘She’s your best friend?’

I said to Payal, returning her phone.

‘Yes. We’ve been together since primary school. She’s somewhat exaggerating her traditional persona online. In real life, she’s not entirely like this. She wears jeans and drinks wine sometimes.’

‘She still got married at twenty,’

I said.

‘As per her parents’

wishes, and to a boy they chose.’

‘True. And now she does Karva Chauth in a red-and-gold saree and feels fulfilled. Meanwhile, I review shareholder agreements in a dark-grey suit and feel exhausted.’

‘You’re working for Blackwater, that’s one of the hardest jobs to get in the world. You’re doing so much at a young age.’

‘What’s the point though? Sometimes I wonder if Akanksha is on a better path.’

‘Are you crazy? You’re smart and talented. Don’t you want to fulfil your potential?’

‘But she feels fulfilled. I feel overworked.’

‘Sure, she says so. On social media. But if she’s truly so fulfilled, why does she feel the need to post it all on social media?’

‘I don’t know,’

Payal said and shrugged, taking a sip of her wine.

‘You have to be true to yourself,’

I said.

‘and be comfortable with your choices. Even if they’re different from those others make.’

‘What if they’re crazy choices?’

‘Aiming to have a good career as a young girl is not a crazy choice.’

‘What about the same young girl sitting on the window ledge of a much older, recently divorced man’s apartment at night? Is that a crazy choice?’

I looked at her. She stared back at me.

‘We’re just sitting and chatting,’

I said slowly.

‘Are we?’

she said, shifting a little and resting her leg on mine.

‘Wasn’t that the plan?’

‘Was it?’

she said and smiled, giving me a brief nod and gesturing for me to come closer.

I started to lean forward but then stopped myself. ‘Payal,’

I said.

‘I really want to kiss you right now. But I don’t want to lose you again like I did last week.’

Payal scooted forward and rested her head on my chest. I held the back of her head and lightly ran my fingers through her hair.

‘I’ll try not to freak out, I promise,’

she said.

‘Is this what is called sending mixed signals?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know. I just want you to be clear about what you want.’

‘I like being with you, Saket. I want this,’

she said.

‘I’m done living my life according to my mother’s prescription.’

She brought her face close to mine. I was fast losing my ability to think straight.

‘I like you, Payal,’

I said, ‘a lot.’

Love is what I meant, not like.

‘I like you too, Saket.’

Despite all my self-control, I couldn’t resist giving her a little peck on her lips. She kissed me back. I pulled myself away.

‘I don’t want to be ghosted tomorrow morning.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ she said.

We kissed again. The whole week of separation and uncertainty we’d both been through gave our kisses a sharp intensity. Our tongues met. I almost bit her lower lip. This time, we had no music playing in the background—only the sound of our breaths quickening. I ran my fingers down her neck, and she shivered. We continued to kiss for a long time.

‘Let’s go to the bedroom,’

Payal said after a while.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

Without another word, I got up and led her to the bedroom. We undressed quietly and lay down on my bed, with only a sheet covering us. I kissed her again and gently touched her all over. Then I heard something a man doesn’t hear every day.

‘I want to have sex.’

‘What?’

I said, shocked.

‘I do,’ she said.

‘Are you sure? Why?’

‘I want to try it. See what it’s all about. And because I trust you.’

‘You don’t have to do this. Don’t feel obligated.’

‘I’m not. I want to. Do you have the stuff?’

‘What stuff?’

‘The contraceptives.’

‘Payal, are you sure?’

‘Yes. I’m not that kind of a girl. But I’m also sick and tired of not having tried anything either. Even Akanksha has had sex. My friends in Stanford did it with multiple people.’

‘Akanksha is married.’

‘True. But I don’t want to get married anytime soon. And I don’t want to wait that long. Now, do you want to or not?’

‘What?’

‘Have sex?’

‘You’re asking a guy if he wants to have sex? Seriously?’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘It’s a hell yes!’

‘Cool, so do you have protection?’

‘No. But I have a chemist’s number who can deliver it fast.’

‘You want to call him?’

I looked at Payal, still shocked. Then I picked up my phone and called the chemist.

‘Waled bhai, I need an urgent delivery.’

‘What?’

‘Digene bottle, one paracetamol strip, Tiger Balm. And a Durex.’

‘Okay, I don’t have Tiger Balm.’

‘That’s fine. Just send the rest.’

‘Okay, which Durex?’

‘Which ones are there?’

‘Pack of three or ten?’

‘I don’t know. Pack of three?’

‘Okay. Extra thin, ribbed, dotted … which one?’

‘Whichever.’

‘Extra thin is in demand. Will send that.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

I ended the call.

‘Why did you order Digene and paracetamol?’

Payal said, blinking.

‘It’s weird to order only condoms.’

‘Really?’

She giggled.

‘I don’t know. Come here,’

I said, pulling her close to me.

We were kissing passionately when the doorbell rang. I quickly wrapped a towel around my waist before answering it.

‘I came in time no?’

Waled bhai said, grinning as he handed me a brown paper bag.

I didn’t respond, but gave him a five-hundred-rupee note instead.

‘No change,’ he said.

‘Keep it,’

I said and shut the door.

I hurried back to the bedroom.

‘Show me the box,’

Payal said.

‘What?’

‘I’ve never seen a condom.’

I took out the small Durex packet from the brown paper bag and handed it to her.

She opened it and took out one of the three sachets inside.

‘It’s squishy,’

she said, squeezing the sachet.

‘Yes, because of the lubrication.’

‘It has lubrication?’

I smiled as I took the sachet from her and opened it. Like a diligent student, she sat up to observe how I wore the condom.

‘Does it hurt when you wear it?’

I smiled and shook my head. I pushed her shoulders back and made her lie back.

‘Is this going to hurt?’ she said.

‘It might. I’ll be gentle.’

She clutched my shoulders tightly as I eased into her.

‘Ow!’

she screamed in pain. Her nails dug into my shoulders.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes,’

she said, breathing heavily.

‘Okay.’

I stayed still for a second, kissing her gently to soothe her.

‘I can feel you inside,’

she whispered.

‘I can feel you too.’

She held me tight.

And a magical few minutes later, we lay next to each other, breathing hard, totally spent.

‘So, it’s all done now,’

she said after a while.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve had sex …’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wow. I, Payal Jain, am no longer a virgin.’

‘I guess not.’

Was she going to freak out on me now?

‘How are you feeling?’

I said, turning on my side to look at her.

‘It hurt a bit at the start, but it felt good later.’

‘And?’

‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. How are you feeling?’

‘I’m feeling too many things. A bit overwhelmed.’

‘Really?’

Payal said, raising herself up on an elbow and facing me.

‘I want to date you, Payal.’

‘Are you proposing to me? Now? Like this?’

‘Yes. I feel close to you, and I can’t bear the thought of losing you. So, yes, I’m proposing to you. Be my girlfriend, Payal.’

‘I guess I already am, right? What we did was a girlfriend-boyfriend thing.’

‘They do more. Like they sometimes eat Nutella toast together for breakfast, without anyone freaking out.’

She looked at me and smiled.

‘Do you want me to stay over?’ she said.

‘How about staying over forever?’

‘You’re good with lines.’

‘Thank you. I’ll get you an old T-shirt.’

‘Yes, please. Before that, can I ask a stupid question?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What does one do with the condom you were wearing after you’re done?’

I sent Payal a message from the backstage area at the Comedy Club: ‘Nervous.’

‘Remember, good nervous. All the best,’

she replied.

‘Two minutes to go. Keep chatting with me. About anything. It helps.’

‘Okay. Listen, did you order the Surf Excel? And the coffee?’

‘Seriously? We’re talking about groceries now? What are we, a married couple of twenty years?’

‘Ha ha. Focus on the show now. Go kill it.’

My name was announced just then. I put the phone in my back pocket and ran up to stage. ‘Hello,’

I said, facing a packed auditorium.

‘How’s everyone doing?’

‘Great!’

the crowd shouted back in unison.

Wow. An enthusiastic bunch.

‘I’m doing great too. I have a girlfriend now. Been about six months, actually.’

The crowd cheered with claps and whistles.

‘She’s much younger than me though,’

I said.

‘Okay, not that young. She can vote. I think.’

A few scattered laughs.

‘Dating a younger girl is mostly fun. She’s a little crazy and wild sometimes. Once, when we were making out, she asked me to say, “Who’s your daddy?”’

Stray giggles in the crowd.

‘She said she’d read online that this who’s-your-daddy line was a thing for some girls. What’s up with that? Why do some girls like a guy to say that? Is it a Western thing? From Hollywood movies perhaps? Has to be. Because in India, we don’t have this concept. If we did, we could use any of the terms we have for other male relationships here. I mean, we have chacha and mama … right?’

I switched to a seductive tone.

‘Who’s your chachu? Who’s your mamu? Who’s your fufa, baby?’

The crowd burst into wild laughter and applause.

‘I can’t believe you used that who’s-your-daddy bit again,’

Payal said, throwing a cushion at me.

‘I only asked you to say it to me that one time. And I was very drunk then.’

We were lying in bed in my flat. For all practical purposes, it had become Payal’s home as well. She stayed five nights a week at my place and spent the weekend either at her Parel apartment or with her parents in Ghatkopar.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’

I said, laughing.

‘It’s a stupid joke, but it always works. When I say “Who’s your chachu?” in a low, husky voice, there are always laughs.’

‘Seriously, mister. Stop using your girlfriend for material.’

‘Real-life sources always lead to better writing,’

I said, kissing her.

‘But baby, tell me something.’

‘What?’

‘Who’s your tauji?’

I said in a soft, seductive voice.

‘Eww. Seriously, double, triple eww. Yuck. Stop it.’

I laughed as she started slamming me with one of the pretty ethnic cushions she’d bought from Anokhi. Payal had redone the furnishings in the house. The bedspread, the cushions and the curtains in the bedroom now matched. She’d also decorated the window ledge, adding a string of fairy lights on the wall and some extra cushions for comfort. When a woman comes into a man’s life, rather, when the right woman comes into a man’s life, everything improves.

I snatched the cushion from her hands and threw it aside. I held her face and brought it closer to mine.

‘I love you,’

I whispered in her ear.

‘You’re very bad,’ she said.

‘I know,’

I said.

‘But then, who’s your dadaji?’

‘Stop it, Saket Khurana.’

‘You did ask me to say who’s your daddy. How is this any different? Just because it’s in Hindi?’

‘I was drunk. And super turned on. And we don’t discuss things we said or did in bed when we were drunk and turned on.’

‘Oh, really? Why not?’

‘Okay, then let’s talk about the time when you asked me to put my finger in—’

‘Stop!’ I said.

‘See,’

she said, laughing.

I looked at her with affection. She blushed. Did she love me just as much as I loved her?

‘What are you thinking?’ I said.

‘We’re out of Harpic,’ she said.

‘What? Now that’s a romantic line that’s never been said in bed before.’

She burst out laughing.

‘No, really, we do need Harpic. Can you add that to the shopping list?’

‘Baby, I was in such a romantic mood.’

‘This is real romance. When you discuss the most mundane thing ever, and yet, it still feels special.’