Bye, Bhalobasha: A Short Story (Ours #3)

Part Two: Healing

Zahir didn't tease him. He didn't laugh, poke fun at him, or say 'I told you so.' Instead, he sat on the chair beside the bed Abhik sprawled himself on, listening intently and quietly as Abhik told him everything.

By the time Abhik was done, there were fresh tears leaving his eyes. Questions upon questions were leaving his mouth. Statements of rage, sadness, and such were rolling off of his tongue. But Zahir didn't interrupt.

"How could I miss the signs?"

"I am a fool, aren't I."

"What did I do to deserve this?"

After long minutes of listening to his friend, Zahir finally spoke. "What do you plan on doing now?"

There was silence, save for the sound of the ceiling fan. "I don't know, yaar. I really do not know."

Zahir held his breath, knowing there was more to come. And he was proved right. "I loved her, Zahir. I love her. And she insulted me."

Abhik's chest was heaving, and at his sides, both of his hands were clenched in fists, knuckles turning white. There was a knock at the door, and both heads turned. "Are you expecting anyone?" Zahir asked, to which Abhik shook his head. "Ma and baba aren't supposed to come back from Sylhet a week before the holidays end."

Zahir handed a glass of water to Abhik before going to answer the door. 

***

"I have bad news," Zahir said. Abhik had his face planted into a pillow, so when he muttered a 'what' it came muffled. "Suraiya is here."

This time when Abhik said 'what' it came out much louder, practically a yell. Hearing even her name right now hurt. And here she was, at his house? "Why is she here?"

"You'll have to talk to her to find out."

Abhik's hair was a mess, his eyes were probably red and puffy, and this was all just physical. He took a deep breath, looking down at his feet. If he asked her, would she give him an honest explanation? What would seeing her now do to him?

***

Each step that he took towards the door felt physically heavy, like the ground would swallow him. His hand shook while twisting the knob, and as quickly as he had opened the door he felt an urge to close it. She stood there, her fingers twiddling in that manner that they did when she was nervous. Her eyes had been trained on the door, so when that door was open, their eyes met. 

And Abhik wished they hadn't.

Her blue eyes were red, her lashes wet and her cheeks dried from tears. She looked so... fragile. Seeing her like this broke his heart, but he couldn't ignore that it was already broken, because of her.

He didn't hug her. He didn't wipe her tears. He didn't hold her hand, squeeze it, and tell her everything would be alright. "Is Raju not with you?"

If it weren't for the anger he was feeling, Abhik wouldn't have even mentioned his name. Suraiya was slightly shorter than him in height, so he craned down to see her expression. All he could see was the clip in her hair. But then she lifted her neck up at him. She looked as if he had slapped him. "No, he left shortly after you did."

Abhik scoffed. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sorry, Abhik."

She didn't try to deny that she was seeing another guy. When he looked into her eyes, he saw no regret, no shame. It was no use that his tears had dried when new ones were beginning to form. "Was my love not enough that you had to go and seek someone else's?"

Silence filled the air between them, and Abhik was somewhat relieved. He was not ready to hear her answer. He gave (though it felt more like a push) a bag to her. "Open it," he told her. She raised an eyebrow but didn't object. The bag crinkled, and out she pulled a box. When she opened it, her eyes widened and she raised them to him, searching for an answer.

It was a bird, a quail, with its wings spread out. Coated in gold, there was a pin at the end. "Our three-year anniversary." He couldn't look at her when he said it. "It was coming up by the end of this week. I was planning to give it to you then, but..." he couldn't bring himself to finish.

"Abhik, I..." He forced himself to look at her. He watched as she fumbled with her words, finding what to say. It felt as if his intestines were coiling inside him. Oh, how he wanted to hold her in his arms but couldn't without the image of her and him coming into his mind. He wanted to love her, to hate her, but he couldn't find it in him to do either.

When the door was shut and his back was against it, he closed his eyes and slid down to the floor.