Don't Love Me √

The World Hurts

Characters in the chapter-

Vivaan : A 28 years old Civil Engineer based in Mumbai. Unmarried. 

Shruti : A 26 years old Assistant Director of television soaps based in Mumbai. Unmarried. 

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It was past 10 when Vivaan opened his eyes. And it didn't vibe being a morning at all. Took him some time to realise that it was cloudy and oh wait, it was raining! 

Vivaan slowly pushed aside the blanket, got up and sat on the bed. The room was semi dark and he checked upon his phone again to see the time. 10:16 AM, Sunday, 11 June 2016. Along with that adorned other notifications. One being, 16 missed calls. 

Very uninterested, Vivaan checked the call log. Shruti (Idea) - 16 missed calls. 

He pursed his lips and turned the phone to airplane mode. And placed it below the blanket.

Another lazy Sunday morning. Vivaan brewed himself some coffee and sat on his easy chair at the verandah. Drizzles pleased his soul. As he sipped the first sip, door bell rang. Oh no!! He knew exactly who it could be and he definitely wasn't much interested in having that person here right now. Why didn't people just leave him alone? Why did they always have to mind his business and not theirs? He thumped the coffee mug on the table and walked up to the door with a very irritated expression on his face, his brows slightly curved and his jawbone firm.

Shruti stormed in. " What are you exactly Vivaan? I called you sixteen times and you didn't even bother to pick up or call back? " 

Vivaan was back to the verandah. These were so usual stuffs that he wasn't even interested in picking up a fight, or welcoming the unwanted guest. Shruti followed him to the verandah. She was frowning. Vivaan very indifferently picked up the coffee mug again, sat down with legs crossed and stared outside. 

" I don't believe this. I have never been so unwanted in anyone's life. Nor have I seen anyone so disinterested in his own life! " 

Shruti dropped herself in the chair facing Vivaan. Vivaan didn't stir, nor look at her. But he knew, the next thing would be Shruti Agarwal breaking into tears. He had seen these happen so many times now that he had learnt the steps by heart. And they didn't at all affect him. 

Life was uninteresting because these people made it more. But the thing was Vivaan didn't blame anyone. He rather blamed himself for everything. 

After almost ten minutes of some silence, Vivaan looked at Shruti. She was staring at the floor and sobbing. Vivaan suddenly felt extremely bad for her and wanted to slap himself for being so heartless. What exactly was her fault? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! 

" Shruti, my phone was silent. And I hardly check phones on Sunday mornings. Why did you call? " 

Shruti didn't answer for sometime. Then she slowly raised her head to see Vivaan compassionately staring at her. This was so rare a view to be remembered forever. Because she had hardly ever seen him be anything else than indifferent. 

Vivaan had walked in as their neighbour since a year now, and a year of him next door, actually a floor below, had been enough to drastically affect Shruti. 

Shruti herself was a beautiful, independent and confident girl. But she had to leave behind every of her stern and stubborn attribute once she stepped inside of this door, to the life of this man. 

" mom...wasn't feeling well last night. Asthma attacks. I couldn't leave her and come down to call you. But I desperately felt like having someone beside. Baba isn't home so, I called you..." 

" Why me? You have numerous friends around. " 

The momentary compassion disappeared and the indifferent Vivaan returned to being.

Shruti stared silently. 

Moments later she walked to the lift. She cursed herself again and again. Why did she even come to this man? Why the hell? To be insulted this way? To be made to realise how insignificant she and her problems could be to someone else? Exactly, why didn't she call any other friend sixteen times in the night but the one who didn't bother at all? 

She vowed never to return, but only to return again. She knew. 

As Shruti left, Vivaan walked up to his bedroom. To the wall which adorned the painting of a beautiful woman. Vivaan slowly placed his hands on her pink hued cheeks. 

He stood for sometime there, driven back to times immemorial. And then walked to his bed, drew his blanket, and lied down.

Vivaan won't cook anything today, he won't eat. Every time the world made him sad, he decided not to eat. Just a way of accomplishing the pain he might have just given to someone else. 

Vivaan didn't understand why the hell people walked up to him, only to get hurt. And hurt him in the process. 

Vivaan didn't involve anyone in his life. He didn't even have a maid. Then ,what pleasure did people derive in involving themselves with him? Why didn't his silent screams reach their ears, " Don't love me, I cannot love you back! "

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