94- 'Is This What Depression Is?'

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Started Typing On - 30/03/2019

Chapter 94- 'Is This What Depression Is?'

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Jaanvi's Pov:

I texted Aditi last night, that's different that I didn't get a response from her side. At first I started panicking, thinking of all the negative things like she's left me, she's angry, she's dead. Probably the worst things you could ever think about your best friend. Turns out Kiaan noticed my anxious behaviour, explaining why I was pacing around the room he laughed. Yeah, he laughed. 'She's gone to her village for a family wedding. The networks sucks over there so try tomorrow.'

Well, I'd be lying if I say I didn't feel the jealously. I was already jealous by the time Kiaan spilled the beans. Too many questions were giving birth in my head. A- How does he know? B-How does he remember this? C-Why does he care where my best friend is? And D- Why the hell did he tell me! Because now I want to kill him for knowing her location. I think that's the good thing about marrying your childhood friend because he caught my expressions faster than anyone could.

'Chill, Dhruv told me.' He had added. I just nodded and slept. And now I'm just sitting on the sofa as Kiaan rans back and forth into the room. First he forgot his watch. The question is, who wears watches now? Aren't phones enough? Anyways, he hurried inside the room again for his file, then Mr Slow realised he's supposed to wear black tie on top of his white shirt today. Off he goes, running like a kid for ice cream. Or chocolate. And I just watch, completely bored.

"I'll be back at around six thirty, then we can head out and eat?" He questioned, sitting on the stool trying to wear his watch. I noticed how his mouth realised a 'shh,' after feeling the cold metal watch making contact with the skin. He twisted the watch, making it face him once he flips his hand, being satisfied he smiled running his hand through his still wet hair.

"Dry your hair." I wasn't going to just let him walk out with wet hair. He'll catch a cold. That wasn't even my concern, to be frank, he can catch a cold, least he'd shut his mouth for an hour or so. He doesn't stop speaking, his mouth just doesn't zip up. Now I understand how my quiet father felt about my mouth chattering away about ridicules things which didn't even make sense.

The thing was, he was wearing a white shirt. And white shirts aren't the best option to ever wear with wet hair. Perhaps I was right, Dhruv is the smarter brother. His hair-which I think he didn't even dry-were dripping down his face into his neck, the top part of his shirt was close to soaking. Can't he feel it? And as always, his shirts outline his fit body.

He shot me a confused look, tying his black tie around the collar of his shirt. "Why? It'll get dry by the time I'm off. I think." His voice was obviously confused with his own statement. I walked inside the room, muttering 'stupid,' fifty times before picking up the towel he threw on the bed.

"Stop throwing the towel on the bed!" It's not my fault that the neat Jaanvi growls at him. The bed was wet by now. Throwing the towel at his face I glared at him. "Dry your hair." I muttered, sitting back on the sofa, scrolling through my messages to see Aditi hasn't been online for a whole day. I sigh.

"I'm not drying my hair, I've got other things to do." I glanced up at him, glaring to see him busy typing some email on his laptop sitting on the counter. I watched briefly in silence hearing the keyboard making clicking sound as he typed away. His right hand reached out to the counter to get a hold of the lunchbox I had prep eared this morning.

I-                    Hey, text me back when you're free.

I left another text to Aditi to try my luck. Talking to Jacinda for an hour sort of opened another door for me. I missed my relationship with Aditi. It sucked how I was willing to speak to a stranger instead of my best friend for years. I chewed on my lower lip anxiously.

I waited. And wait. A minute passed. Two minutes passed. Three. Four and five but she wasn't online which summed up she hadn't read my messages. I just wanted to hear her voice once to make sure she was fine. I had the opportunity to call her in this one month, she even called but I wasn't ready or comfortable to talk. I couldn't bring myself to speak to Kiaan who I lived with so, Aditi was a friend, living in a different country. Now I wanted to talk. But she wasn't there.

I dropped my phone on the couch, moving around in my spot to get rid of the feeling. I hated thinking too much. I hated feeling anxious. And I felt just that at the moment. My confused gaze of how I'm feeling this and why I'm feeling such way landed on Kiaan. He was drinking his tea which I made five minutes ago. His hand moved up and down in motion of drinking and putting the cup back on the counter next to his laptop, not once did I feel his eyes moving away from the bright screen. His back was to me but I could tell by his posture that he was doing some important work.

His broad shoulders were tensed, his back straight. He's worried. He's never and I repeat, never sits with his back straight on the stool, he likes to lean onto the counter for support, something was up. But more than up, his wet hair was dripping down his back now making the back of his shirt a little see-through from the top half. And that was driving me nuts. I felt like I was in his body, which made me shiver. I hate the thought of wearing something even a little wet.

I stood up, bragging my body to him. Standing behind him, an inch away I started drying his hair with the towel. He exhaled calmly, leaning back into me a little. His shoulders weren't tensed now, they relaxed down instantly, I noticed them falling from the professional-work posture and attitude. His straight lined back was now sinking down, letting a tired yawn out.

"It feels so good." He whispered hoarsely after another yawn. "I want to sleep." He looked over his shoulders, looking up at my face. He remained seated on the stool but looked so tired like he'd fall of into a deep slumber. My hands automatically stopped, the towel still on his head but not blocking his face. His face was like those little children who don't want to wake up for school, so tried. And worked-out.

How do I react? What do I say? "Oh. Ok?" It was like telling a kid that it's all right not to go to school. I've changed so much that it cringes me sometimes. If I had said this to Kiaan and he gave me a 'Oh, ok,' I'd probably be shouting at him by now for not giving me valid advise or even paying attention to what I was saying. Wasn't 'oh, ok' another way of saying 'I don't know,' or 'do whatever you want, like I care.' The thing was, I did care, and I'm just stupid to explain myself.

"Right." The way he said it, oh I know he means the opposite. Something like, 'I hate you.' I'd probably do the same. Be sarcastic. His face dropped, sinking down into an exhausted position. He flips his head to the laptops direction, reading the time he logs out, shutting the laptop lid. "I'm getting late."

I quickly move the towel around the back of his head, soaking up any extra wet bits of hair so it wouldn't roll down his back. He stands up, my hands automatically bringing itself back to my body with the towel.

"So?" I hear his deep voice, holding the laptop and file in one hand with the lunchbox in the other. He looks at me, raising his eyebrow waiting for me to answer his unasked question. I move back, creating some space between us which doesn't seem to sit well with him. He rolls his eyes, not the normal roll, but the annoyed and the type he'd use when he's used to my behaviour. He slips the car keeps into his finger, heading towards the door when I ask.

"So what?"

"Nothing." He muttered, managing to open the door.

"Tell me." I repeat in order to find out what he was talking about.

"Dinner, Jaanvi. What else?" He answered, irritated. Standing outside the door. He turned around to face me, looking a bit understanding now. That's him now days. Angry then normal after a while. His behaviour doesn't help me in any way to understand him or what's happening around us.

"Ohh. Umm." I started scratching my head, making a disgusted face. I don't like eating out. I don't. I hate it. I gave him an awkward smile, they type I give when I need someone help to get out of certain situation. The worst part was, I made an 'uhh' sound, and by that, Kiaan knew I didn't want to go.

"Oh." He realised. His face fell but he covered it up quickly. "Ok, well, I'll go now."

"Wait." I felt bad. I've been lately disagreeing with everything he said. Not purposely but I've just been a little moody and not very friendly or cooperative. "-Um, I think I'll probably puke." I paused, making that stupid awkward 'uhh' sound, fidgeting with my hands constantly. It basically looked like I was trying to wash my hands. Without soap. Without water. Like miming. "But I'd go. Only if it's an Indian restaurant."

The least I could do in return of his patience. His face turned into a bright smile, flashing his dimple on the right cheek. His eyes were shining in excitement, maybe the poor guy was so over eating his own cooked food or mine. Or he's just happy thinking I'd talk. Not sure about that. I'm just worried I don't embarrass him by vomiting because I did that last night. I hate milo cereal now. "Noted." I saw him leave with a different attitude now. His smile never left his face as he walked down the stairs, whistling.

Pagal. (Crazy)

I was a bit proud of myself. I wasn't thinking too much-compared to other days. I was so looking forward to my meeting tomorrow with Jacinda that I started cleaning the house. Then reading the book. And cooking some lunch. I just wanted to be so busy that I'd forget my tension.

The major reason why I wanted to move my hands around was to tell Jacinda how my day went by. I didn't want to just communicate about my past-all sad and boring stuff, I wanted to share what I read or what I cooked. I wanted to talk about other things as well.

She did look like those professional serious women but I observed her eyes soften as my tears poured out yesterday. I think she was just trying to look stern and professional.

I sat down on the bed, letting my head fall back. I panted for air, slowing my eyes shut. "I feel like I'm a fifty year old women. Barely thirty in real." I muttered to myself, rubbing my hands over my bone-tried face. "Did my mum felt the same?" Did she? I was going back in that zone. I could feel my brain focusing on my mum but at the right time my phone buzzed. I rolled over on the bed slowly, clutching my phone with my fingers.

Bringing it closer to my face I saw Kiaan had messaged me. Like always.

Kiaan- Did you do something new?

He sends me the same text every single day. Either I ignore it other days or type a two letter word, 'no.' I know it disappoints him but I like being honest. Well, today was different.

Me- Just house work. I read another book that you brought.

I wanted to explain everything in detail, I did that normally. It was my speciality dad use to say, to speak. I could make a two sentence conversation or answer into a paragraph. He always use to say how badly he wished I stopped talking so much, guess it worked?

Another messages popped up by him.

Kiaan- What one did you read now?

I stopped up from the bed, struggling at first but managed somehow. I walked over to the desk, reading the book title. "Oh, right." I murmured, shaking my head in annoyance. I read this book few thirty minutes ago and already forgot the name. I think that's how people go crazy.

Me- 'The Cheerleaders.'

Kiaan- Murder mystery?

I bit my lip as my fingers worked away, Me- Yes.

I know he wasn't fond of my choices, I could already imagine him sighing. He thought I was odd. 'I thought girls like romance or biography.' He had once said.

Well, it wasn't my fault that I didn't like those 'two lovers' or 'love triangle' type of stories. I didn't like investing my money into something I'd most likely lose interest in. It was too typical to me, falling in love, misunderstanding, and break up and then meeting your long lost lover after few years and getting back. There was no climax. There probably is, but I just don't believe in those fairy tale happy ending.

'And they lived happily ever after.' So you're telling me they never argued? Never had little misunderstanding? Never fought about stupid things like 'there's less salt in my curry?' Oh, and their family's never pressurised the women to become pregnant? So, the author is telling me everything, like everything was fine? If yes, that's exactly what I hate. How can a complicated relationship turn into a soft and smooth one with no problems? That's bullshit.

I don't like reading about things which are obvious. Half of the book is filled with make-out sessions, I mean, who needs description? Don't we know it ourselves? That's like seeing someone picking up your extreme dirty laundry in front of you, making you wanna puke-if you aren't into the main leads, of course. My capacity is of reading max hundred pages of romance, after that I'd most likely rip the book in half.

'Brutal' Kiaan had said when I explained all this to him the last time we were in New York. 'You sure you're a girl?' I had the urge to smack him but managed to keep my cool, that's impressive I tell you.

I don't always want to know about someone's feeling written in hundred pages, I want to understand their brain. Their mind playing dirty games. And what makes them become who they are. Which happens in murder mysteries. Or psychology thriller. You don't just feel what they feel, you try and understand why they did it. In the end, we often get blown away and I prefer that rather than reading romance novel as a teen thinking I'd get a prince charming riding in a horse and asking me to marry them. Oh yes, Kiaan doesn't like horse. I think he rode a donkey to our wedding.

I flinched from the echo of my phone buzzing, unlocking it I read a message that made me frown.

Kiaan- A pregnant lady shouldn't be reading that

What does he mean? What? Pregnant ladies can't even live now? I wasn't happy with his suggestion. What does he mean, 'I shouldn't be reading that?'

Me- What are you trying to say? I have to change myself for a baby? Or what? I'm supposed to sing those spiritual songs now?

I was furious. I won't change myself. These books are helping me keep my brain in check and he wants me to stop?

Kiaan- Jeez, calm down. I didn't mean it like that. I meant like, try something different. These books may be too hard on you at this point of time. Just a suggestion.

'At this point of time,' what am I? In the middle of a surgery?

Me- Last time I checked you gave me those books.

Kiaan- Well, I wasn't aware of the news was I?

Me- How does that change anything? Fine, I'll read those Bible or those spiritual books since my murder mystery books can affect the baby.

And I turned the phone of. I can't even read a book now! I stood in front of the mirror, watching my red eyes tearing up and my messy hair all over the place. "OK," I raised my hand up in the air, only to let it drop on my thighs, I gave myself a defeated angry smile. "-I'll stop reading then. I'll stop doing everything that affects others."

I pulled on my hair, wishing I could rip them out in frustration. "Ok, I'll stop. I'll stop doing everything he orders me to!" My head was burning is pain, it annoyed me even more. I sat down on the bed, massaging my head slowly. I wiped away the random unexpected tears from the back of my hand, letting the anger die down slowly. I'm losing interest in everything. Slowly. Is this what depression is? Will I ever see papa? Or Aditi? Or Grandma?

Married My Enemy


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