Marry Me

Chapter - 7 MORNING

I woke up face down on the bed, the sun silvering through the blinds and falling just right on top of my eyelids. The alarm clock buzzed on top of the Lincoln table as if it wanted to hurl itself on top of my head. I groaned as I and rolled across the bed, shutting the alarm with one hand and facing the top of the muted ceiling with my blurry eyes. Yesterday's events buffering through my brain like a crackdown show. I needed a run.

I mustered up the energy to get up and drag myself to the bathroom. My face looked like it had been through a zombie apocalypse. My blue eyes looking gaunt and haggard, black hair hanging down to my shoulders, I found a band from the cabinet, tied my hair in a ponytail, washed my face and decided to not look at my face again for the rest of the day.

I thought about my blue eyes though, and how I had procured them from my mother. How identical our eyes were, though how opposite everything about us was. I thought of the story Kiyansh's mom had told me, how she had met my mom at her parents refugee drive, and became best friends because they started going to the same university. I thought of my mom, who never really told me from where she really was, a part of me was. How she was at the party yesterday, but didn't even deign to send me a text, unlike my father who had messaged me at least five times asking if I was all right, and would I come back from the meeting and meet them.

Even Kiyansh's mom had texted me, asking where Kiyansh and I was. I suppose he didn't go back to the party after our argument. Guilt snatches inside my stomach, but I shook it off and walked to my closet to change into running shorts and sports tank.

I walked outside the apartment, without really looking around it, the quiet making me feel anxious. As soon as the door beeped shut behind me, I turned in the hallway and passed by the lift, running down the stairs, my mind finally turning off.

I reach the main entrance gate, and a familiar face peeks out of the square guard room, plump and joyful as always. "Hello madamji, good morning!"

"Good morning Ramakrishna," I said to the Bengali guard who never forgot to bring me a box of chomchoms whenever he went to his hometown in Kolkata. We always greeted each other whenever I was in Delhi and he was here on duty in early morning shifts.

"Madamji my wife said to tell you thank you for the box of chocolates you-" He buzzed the barrier open and came outside the room, stopped short, "Madamji, is something wrong?"

I do look like a zombie. I gave him a smile which was more of a grimace, "Just need to get some air I think, tell Shilpa she doesn't need to thank me, her recipe was awesome. Bring her around the apartment when she is free again."

Ramakrishna gave a nod, but didn't actually say anything after that, his face crunched in concern. I felt a surge of warmth for him and his wife who sent me homemade food whenever she cooked something delicious.

"See you Ramakrishna," I said and crossed the metal entrance, increasing my pace, as the road blink lights switched off underneath my trainers, the sun rising up from orange to buttery yellow in the sky.

*********

I am covered in sweat, my mind finally off and focused on the hard breaths that came to my throat as I took the stairs up. My apartment was the only one on my floor so I should just call it as a condo, but I don't know, calling it as my apartment made it feel, more like a home. The four bedroom condo was too much to think about otherwise, I guess. I missed my one-bedroom apartment in Mumbai. That felt more like home.

"One more floor to go Shanvi," I gasped as I felt the sinew on my thigh stretch to a point of rupture. I preferred stairs to lift when running, it was almost vital for my schedule, when all I had to do for my work was to sit and write, at least when I was in the writing stage.