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Vera

December, Three Years Ago

“ M en continue to prove they’re trash.”

As my girlfriends cackle at the statement, I stare at the plume of smoke leaving my mouth. It’s not that I don’t agree, but the three of them are in long-term relationships. Sighing at the weight pressing against my chest, I close my eyes. Nothing good comes from rehashing what’s happened, but it’s also a good reminder that maybe I’m better off single. It can’t be that hard to just get laid, right?

“Vee.”

I hum in response and take another pull of my joint. It’s a cool December evening and we’re sitting on the veranda of Millie’s gorgeous three bedroom home. The backyard’s lit up with tiny lamps and the ocean breeze flutters through my hair.

“He’s not worth it.”

It’s easy for them to say. Even though they’re not minimising what happened to me, that’s how it feels. “I’m fine,” is my standard response, even though that’s not even close to the truth. I don’t think they’re ready to hear how miserable I am or see my walls come down. I don’t want that either.

“Getting another one. Anybody want anything?” I grab the empty wine bottle and pass the blunt to Tamara. As I head into the house, their chatter picks up, but I don’t pay attention. They’re definitely talking about me and that’s fine. That’s what good friends do, but I do not want to hear any more of their concerns. Setting the empty bottle by the recycling bin, I walk to the store room and let the quiet seep into my bones. At the last minute, I take a detour and head for the bathroom at the end of the hall. With the door closed and the world locked away, I look at myself in the mirror. You’re better than this , I tell myself, blinking back tears that are threatening to spill over. Don’t let him win .

It’s pointless, because the minute those words enter my mind, so does the reason behind the tears. Exhaling shakily, I close the toilet and sit down, face pressed into my palms. Twice now, I’ve given all of myself to someone and both times they’ve ripped my heart to shreds.

When will I ever learn?

I’d just turned twenty-four and agreed to meet all the eligible Malayali men in hopes of finding my Prince Charming. Young and na?ve, I believed that my one true love was just around the corner. If my parents and aunts could find their soulmates through arranged marriages, why couldn’t I? But I had very specific requests. None of this first meeting immediately leads to engagement bullshit. We needed to date and get to know each other before making that life-long commitment. All I wanted was six months and then we could meet each other’s families to take the next step.

It baffled my family, but they went along with it. The guys didn’t feel the same way. The first few—and there were a lot —laughed like I was telling them a joke. Apparently a woman asking for what she wants and dragging out the process is unacceptable. Let’s not even get into all of their other issues.

Then I met Ajay. He wasn’t conventionally handsome and was a little rough around the edges with his personality, but we fit. It surprised me just how well we fit. When he accepted my terms, it felt like it was meant to be. We had fun on our dates—it wasn’t just meals at new restaurants or coffee shops, we went to see movies together, walks on the beach, visited the one and only theme park, attended early morning walking tours of the city—and spent a lot of time talking. In all my years of dating, I’d never met someone who wanted to know about my hopes and dreams. Or cared about them even. Ajay was interested and I was falling in love.

One month turned into six, but we weren’t slowing down. For a meticulously organised person, I lost track of time because we were having so much fun. Then my calendar politely reminded me that it was our one year anniversary. I hadn’t given marriage serious thought until these meetings with bachelors began, but now it was all my mind could focus on. And a life with Ajay was taking up all of my thinking space.

Unfortunately, a life with me wasn’t on his mind.

He’d kept track of the time we were spending together and instead of talking to me at six months, he made other arrangements. Meaning, he continued to meet other women and with the help of his family, found his future wife.

“I…uh, I’m getting married in a few weeks.”

“Wh-what?”

“My parents were still looking at biodatas after we met and a couple of months ago, I met this girl and our families agreed that we should get married.”

Tears prick the back of my eyes as I stare at him, because he’s been seeing someone else for months. Months I dedicated to being a good girlfriend, he was out there planning a future with someone else. The worst part is, he doesn’t even look guilty.

“Why…I thought we were taking our time getting to know each other?”

“I wanna get married, Vera, and you…don’t.”

“I was going to tell you today that we should get married!”

He shrugs. “Well, I’m sorry.”

I want to punch his stupid face, I want to cry and scream, but I can’t move. I’m so stiff with shock that all I can do is watch him.

“Was I just a good time girl then?”

“We had fun, right? Like, this was really good for both of us. But you said six months and then never brought it up again, so my parents made the decision for me.”

“What…you’re a fucking asshole.”

He scoffs. “If you could have been less crass and mouthy, and more demure and sweet, I could have loved you. I would have loved you if you wanted what I wanted, but…you didn’t.”

I do want those things, but I refuse to beg this man to give me another chance. He used me and my generous heart, now blames me for not being able to love me and cheated on me for at least six months. All while I was giving myself a chance to fall in love.

“I hope your new wife is everything you want her to be,” I spit and get out of the car, my legs wobbly as I do my best to walk away from where he’s parked. When I hear the engine start up, the tears start to fall, because of course he doesn’t care. I look over my shoulder and he’s already gone.

Hugging myself, I replay his words: I would have loved you if you wanted what I wanted.

Then came Rakesh.

We met at a conference in Delhi, flirted the entire weekend and parted ways. Little did I know that he lived in Chennai until he was texting me with dinner plans. One meal led to another and we fell into bed together. It was supposed to be casual, but feelings got in the way. He was ambitious and dedicated to his job as a management consultant, handsome and so fucking charming. When we attended parties and events together, people flocked to Rakesh because he had this thing about him. My friends and their partners liked him too, and most importantly, my parents thought the world of him.

I was four years into starting my own company at our first encounter. Five when he asked me to be his girlfriend and six when I believed he might be the one . It had taken me a long time to move on after Ajay and I avoided relationships like the plague. Rakesh changed that. He loved my drive and passion, my need to build an inclusive business and be one of the top ranked companies in the country.

It was all a lie.

He brought up marriage one day and broke things off the next—okay, it was actually a few months apart, but whatever—leaving me absolutely shattered.

Apparently he didn’t appreciate being my ‘second choice’ and thought I worked too much. The whole time he was praising my work ethic and business acumen, he was lying through his teeth. He wanted a pretty little wife who would be waiting for him at home with dinner, not a boss lady in pantsuits who could keep up with the big boys. His words, not mine .

There’s no telling how long he spent criticising my life choices before he packed up his things and left. I committed myself to someone for three years and he walked away because he wasn’t the centre of my universe. I’d always known that men had fragile egos and seeing a woman doing better than them was a point of contention, but I never expected that from the man I loved.

“Vee?” A knock follows and I stand. “Are you alive in there?”

“Gimme a minute!” With a quick scrub of my face—glad I took my makeup off after work—and a brief pep talk, I pull open the door to find three concerned faces.

“This isn’t even the best bathroom to cry in,” Millie tells me and the first genuine laugh spills out. Then their arms are around me in tight hugs and I sink into their embrace.

It might have taken me a week to process Rakesh’s words and actions, but the minute I started crying at work, I was calling my friends. There was zero hesitation when plans were made for me to drink myself stupid and cry about my broken heart. Krystina, Millie and Tamara—the latter also being my first cousin—are three of the best parts of my life. They might have partners and busy schedules, but when one of us is falling apart, everyone shows up. Tamara and I have been attached at the hip since we were kids, then Krys and Millie joined the fold in college. We’ve been inseparable ever since—going so far as to move to the same city.

“Thanks,” I whisper and attempt to extract myself from their grasp, but they won’t let me budge. “Okay, time to let go.”

“A little longer,” Tamara says as a hand holds the back of my head in place.

“I can’t breathe,” I tell them, gasping loudly until they finally release me.

Of the four of us, I’m least touchy-feely and hug only when necessary. And they’re also the only three people who could probably get away with hugging me without my permission.

“Still want more wine?” Millie asks.

“I rolled a few more Js,” Krys adds with a smirk.

Tamara loops her arm through mine. “And Jonathan said that we can burn shit in the pit if we want.”

Jonathan is Millie’s fiancé and one of the best guys I’ve ever met. He would let us burn the whole house down if it meant we’d be happy. But we like him too much to destroy the beautiful home he built for our friend.

“I tossed everything in the trash already,” I tell them as we return to the veranda where more wine is poured and a thick joint is handed to me. “Didn’t want to pollute the city with his shit.”

Lighting up, I settle into my chair and let the hash calm my mind and loosen my muscles. This is all I need.

“Good riddance,” Krys says. “Because if he can’t handle you as a boss babe, he doesn’t deserve you as anyone else anyway.”

I raise my glass and then gulp it down. Changing to fit someone else’s requirements or demands is not my style. Both men I committed myself to didn’t appreciate all that I could offer, but there has to be someone out there who will. However, the idea of giving myself to another person scares me. Casual sex has never really been my thing, maybe now is a good time to give it a shot.

No commitments, lots of great sex? I can get behind that.