Give Me All Your Pain

3.Is it destiny?

'The red string of fate'

      There is an old story. The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers. Regardless of time, place or circumstances this magical cord may stretch or tangle but never break. This myth is similar to the western concept of soulmates.



Abhinav

"We'll be there in 10 minutes," Satyam informed me, glancing at me through the rearview mirror of the car. I simply nodded in response.

We were on our way to the seminar that my psychiatrist was conducting—a visit that was completely unplanned.

I had initially informed him that I wouldn't attend, yet here I was, going against my own words.

In truth, many unexpected events had been occurring in my life lately, like the impromptu video conference I had earlier today. Satyam informed me this morning that our foreign investors wanted to hold a discussion before their upcoming visit, causing me to be late. 

It wasn't as if I cared much about it anyways.

"We've arrived," Satyam said, and I stepped out of the car. It was a college campus, and we made our way toward the auditorium. I entered at 11:30 AM, and by then, many people had already taken their seats.

I told Satyam that we should sit in the last row because I simply wanted to observe—nothing more.

At that moment, my psychiatrist was at the podium, discussing his thesis and research. By the time the seminar ended, I was utterly fed up with the theories on human emotion being presented.

Attending the seminar felt like an idiotic idea. As the seminar concluded, everyone began making their way toward the exit.

"Look for the professor," I instructed Satyam. I stood up and headed towards the exit, but my feet suddenly halted when I caught sight of her once again.

There she was, engaged in conversation with the professor. 

Did they know each other?

I felt the bustling energy of the room fade away as my eyes locked onto her figure. Time seemed to slow, and everything around me blurred into insignificance. At that moment, there was only her. 

I watched her as she absentmindedly tucked a strand of her reddish-brown hair behind her ear. Her hair had been cut, as it was now at mid-back length, whereas before, it had reached her waist.

Her soft, rosy lips curved gently as she spoke, her medium wheat skin glowed in the artificial light of the auditorium and the way the light caught her hair; it created a subtle shimmer. 

Her radiant smile seemed to brighten the entire room and each strand of hair seemed to dance with a life of its own, framing her face and drawing my attention to her delicate features.

The outfit she wore was a simple crop top and black jeans, she didn't even look like the stereotypical model type of girl; she looked like....... herself.

As I stood there, unable to tear my gaze away, I felt an unfamiliar fluttering in my chest. It was as if my heart had found a new rhythm.

They seemed comfortable in each other's company as if they were accustomed to talking. I clenched my fist when she said something to Professor which made both of them laugh.

"Isn't she... that girl?" Satyam remarked, looking in the same direction.

"Call the professor... now," I told Satyam, and we walked outside through a different exit.

.

.

.

I reclined in the professor's office chair, my usual spot whenever I had a session with him, and waited for his arrival. I closed my eyes, and as always, her face appeared before me.

I heard footsteps approaching the door, and when I opened my eyes, the professor entered the room. Satyam followed him and sat beside him on the sofa.

Both of them remained silent, not saying a word. But I couldn't bear the silence any longer. So, I asked the question that had been eating away at me.

"Who was that girl?" The professor calmly looked at me, taking in my words.

"Which girl?" he questioned, as if testing my patience.

"The girl you were talking to... white top... black jeans," I reminded him. Realization dawned on him, and he nodded as if he remembered who I was referring to. But he still wanted to prod me further.

"What about her?" he questioned. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Did he really want to push my buttons?

"She was her... the girl from the marriage," Satyam interjected, observing my visible impatience. The professor appeared surprised by Satyam's statement, glancing at me for confirmation. I simply nodded.

"So now, tell me who she is and how you know her," I impatiently asked the professor. He looked at me with an amused expression.

"Her name is Aanya... Aanya Sharma," he said.

Aanya.

At last, I knew her name after all this time.

"You're smiling," Satyam said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Even professor was looking at me with an unreadable expression. Was I really smiling? Just because I learned her name... impossible.

"How do you know her?" I questioned, attempting to change the topic.

"We met accidentally at a bookstore last month," he said, recalling their encounter. "She's an intriguing person, I must say," the professor added with a chuckle. He recounted their interaction.

"She told a psychology professor to apply psychology in real life," Satyam said, laughing lightly.

"So, it was the second encounter," the professor said, redirecting his attention to me.

"Actually... it was the third," I said, recalling the second time I saw her. Both of them looked highly surprised.

"I saw her at the park last week," I informed them.

"Could it be destiny?" the professor pondered, looking at me.

He knew I was thinking about the words he spoke that day—about meeting a special person three times coincidentally, leading to them becoming our destiny.

"I don't believe in such things," I told him. There was no such thing as destiny.

"So, what are you going to do now? Will you consider my advice?" he questioned.

His advice seemed absurd. What could she change? Even a psychiatrist couldn't help me after so many years. I just wanted to understand what made her so special.

"Satyam..." I said, demanding his full attention, "...get her number. I think it's finally time to meet her," I instructed him.

"Do you want a full background check on her?" he asked.

"No... just her number," I said.

Gathering personal information about her wasn't a big deal for me. However, I simply didn't want to get to know her through the pages of a file.

"You're going to arrange a meeting for us... but don't reveal the real purpose," I told my psychiatrist.

She was nothing more than a curiosity to me.

It was time to finally meet you, Ms. Aanya Sharma.

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5 Nov,2020 (Revised)

It is a short chapter. I wasn't going to publish it but than I thought you guys should know what is going on the other side

Please vote and comment.