Page 60 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“It took me a moment to gather myself. I remember sitting on the edge of the sofa in his apartment while he stormed into his room. I had never claimed to be the prettiest or the smartest, but my family always valued me for who I was. My parents, of course, but also my extended family. There was one aunt who continued to comment on my dusky skin, but she was nasty to everyone, so no one really paid her any heed. I asked myself why I was giving a stranger this kind of power to hurt me. Then I thought of all those people who’d never had that kind of validation from their loved ones. It’s no wonder so many people continue to stay in abusive relationships. Our first ideas of self-worth come from our families, and I was among the fortunate few with a family who thought the world of them.”

I squeezed the hand she had slipped into mine.

“That’s when I decided. I broke it off. ‘It’s over,’ I said. ‘I am done.’ Then, he tried bullying me about the breakup too, but that story has a happy ending. Would you like to hear?”

I nodded, amused by her enthusiasm.

“He apologized briefly, like he always did after his putdowns. But the very next moment, he said I had misunderstood him. If only I would try better, this relationship would be a good one for both of us. That was classic abusive behavior, placing all the blame on me. I know that now. I didn’t at the time. Except I was so furious. I didn’t want to be around him anymore. I told him the relationship was unhealthy for me, that he’d been emotionally abusing me, and that’s when he really lost it. He said, ‘If I were abusive, I would’ve told you that you look like a fucking whore in those clothes, putting your body on display like that. And this lipstick? Do you think you are fair enough to pull off this bright color?’”

She looked at me with disdain on her face. “You know what I was wearing? A pair of jeans, a cropped top, and a fuchsia plum color on my lips.”

“I’m waiting for the happy ending,” I said, rushing her through the memories that were increasingly becoming too distasteful for me.

“Oh, you’ll love it. See, it doesn’t take long for emotional abuse to turn into physical violence. He was nasty that evening. When I stood my ground, he lunged at me, ripping off a part of my blouse. My karate training kicked in instantly. I knew how to handle a physical assault. I grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and flipped him down to the floor. I put my knee on his back and yelled through my gritted teeth, ‘Don’t you fucking try that with any woman ever again.’” She grinned widely.

I grinned too. “Did you actually say fucking?”

“I did.” She bobbed her head multiple times. “But that was the last time I used it. I didn’t want to be like him, be him. Ugh!” She shuddered.

I took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Sona. This shouldn’t have happen to any woman, but especially not to you.” My jaw clenched with anger. That asshole had the audacity to hurt my Sona.

“But it does happen. It happens every day. Wait till you hear why my second boyfriend dumped me. But first, guess why he asked me out in the first place?”

It seemed like a no-brainer. “Because you are brilliant, exciting, and fucking sexy?”

She made a buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. He asked me out because he learned I don’t drink alcohol. Of course, I didn’t know about it then. He revealed this to me the night we broke up. His mother despised women who drank alcohol, so that’s the reason he was attracted to me initially.”

“Is it me, or is your life story getting more and more bizarre?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

“I’ve not even started yet,” she said with a sigh. “But it isn’t a very long story. We were together for more than a year. He was charming and gentlemanly, quite the opposite of my first boyfriend. I think that’s what drew me to him, the contrast. He wasn’t pompous or a braggart like the first one. He was studious and hardworking. Quite sincere too.” Her eyes blinked with conflicted memories and emotions.

“What went wrong?”

She pulled in a sharp inhale. “I’ve still not been able to figure that out,” she said with a gentle frown. “I wonder if he ever liked me for myself at all or only because I checked certain boxes, though clearly not all,” she said with a small roll of her eyes. “But when he finally introduced me to his parents, they disapproved of me. So we broke up.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“You have to ask that?” she said with a dismissive shake of her head. “I just told you all of my shame, so ask away.”

“Why don’t you drink? Is it a religious reason?”

She laughed aloud. “This is not about religion. It is a preference. I just don’t like how I feel after I drink, that’s all. My parents love their wines and whisky. There are no restrictions in my home.”

There was a moment’s pause, then she blinked and jumped from her spot. Facing me, she pulled her legs behind her and grabbed my arms.

“Mihir! I think I’ve just had a breakthrough. He wasn’t looking for a partner for himself! Not even a wife. He wanted a daughter-in-law for his mother, someone who was exactly what his mother wished her to be. That’s the reason he could end it at the drop of a hat and say all those mean things to me, right?”

“What kind of mean things?”

Her gaze skittered away. “Well, it began with him saying his family disapproved of my wheat-ish complexion and my size, although I was way slimmer then. But it soon devolved into listing everything he disliked about me. I was too opinionated, he said. I am, but I don’t see it as a drawback.”

“And love has no place in this discourse at all?”

She shrugged. “Apparently not. Well, not love for your partner over your family. Sometimes there might be love but no respect for your partner. He said his mother had threatened self-harm if he married me, so it wasn’t a difficult decision for him.”

“You’re kidding! Is that really how people think?”

She scoffed. “What rock have you been living under? Look at the world!”

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