The Scenic Life

Chapter 4

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Its Thursday today. Three days after the last production meeting, unsurprisingly things haven’t changed much between Vihaan and me.

I mean I didn’t expect any drastic changes with him, I didn’t expect him to come barrelling in my cabin with air tickets in his hands and a sorry card pasted to his forehead.

Although if that had happened, I would’ve made sure it would go viral in minutes.

I just thought, given that we’re going to travel for more than three weeks, that he would at least try and converse with me more. Just for the sake of trip, I mean who wants an awkward trip to rajasthan? Not me!

I tried to diffuse things between us. I said hello to him on Tuesday, I said good afternoon to him yesterday, and I also said bye to him while leaving. But all I got in return was a nod. I know that by no means what I had done was monumentally large, but you can't just tell your life story to the person who dislikes you and expect everything to become slightly normal.

He would probably run away from me if I did that in real life.

Heck, even id run away from myself if I ever talked with Vihaan about anything other than work.

I try to shake my mind off from him and try to concentrate on writing about my feelings and journaling about my week. I can do moodboards, jornals, design, etc. for other people, as well as characters in no time. But when it comes to myself, I find myself looking at a pure white canvas puzzle with no picture to help solve.

Sometimes I think I know fictional people better than me. My old fanfiction in my laptop do support this thesis completely.

My Macbook pings with an email notification. its from Khan.

Hm, whats this about?

I'm about to open it but I'm interrupted with three rapt knocks on my door.

“Yeah, come in.”

To my surprise, its Vihaan. With….tickets in his hands?

What the fuck? Do I have a sixth sense now?

I imagine that I probably have a hazed, dreamy look on my face, courtesy of the fact that I now possess sixth sense.

Fortunately, he ignores it and stands near the end of the glass table.

He looks around the room and clears his throat. I wait for him to speak up. He looks at my family photo on the table. I itch at my instinct to take the frame away from his eyes, that I doubt can perform black magic.

I think he could read my mind because he suddenly speaks up,

“Uh, so. These are the copies of the airplane tickets. I came to remind you to take two photo ID's with you, incase one doesn’t work. And also, uh, can you give me your phone for a second?”

“excuse, what.”

He rolls his eyes exasparately,

“I want to save my private, non work number on your phone. It would be better for us to communicate through that.”

“Oh, okay, sure. That’s fine.” I could not sound more terrified.