Page 91 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Mihir just broke up with me,” I said.

“What?” she shrieked.

“What’s wrong?” I heard Sameer’s voice near her.

“She says Mihir broke up with her,” Tara said to him.

“Shit!” I heard Sameer’s voice and burst into tears again. “I’d fucking warned him about this. Put her on speaker,” I heard him say.

“Sona, is it alright if I put you on speaker? Sameer is here.”

“Yes,” I sobbed.

“What happened, Sona?” Sameer repeated Tara’s question.

“I have no idea. We spoke on Thursday, then he ignored my calls until tonight when he said it’s not working out. I don’t know what to think.”

“What did you talk about on Thursday?” Tara asked gently. “Did you have a disagreement? Maybe he’s angry about something and needs time to cool off.”

“No, that’s not like him,” Sameer said.

“I know what you’re doing, Tara, but Sameer is right. That’s not like him. He doesn’t let things fester. He tackles them head-on. And no, we didn’t have a disagreement. I was in Houston for the interview. We had a very normal, almost routine call before bed.”

I wailed shamelessly, and they supported me with their silence. “He said he isn’t the marrying kind.”

“That’s bullshit! He told me how happy he was,” Sameer cried. Then I heard Tara’s hushed voice, followed by Sameer’s whisper. “Sorry!”

Tara took me off speaker. “Hey love, look, I’m really sorry about this. He might be going through something, but Sameer and I will talk to him and see what’s going on. This is unacceptable.”

“No, that’s not why I called you, Tara. I just need your support right now. You have your own relationship with him, and I don’t want this to alter it. This is what I had feared from the start. That’s why I shouldn’t have gotten into this in the first place.”

“Hey, this is not your doing. I won’t let you blame yourself. You both knowingly stepped into this relationship. He knew just as well what was at stake. And as far as our relationship goes, it’s already been affected. You can’t expect me to trust him after this. I’ll most definitely hold a grudge against him, even if Sameer reconciles.”

There was a pause while they conferred.

“Sameer is calling him now.”

“No, please don’t! I don’t want him to think I’m using you to get to him.”

“No, sweetheart. You know Sameer. He’s not going to do your bidding, but he’s angry too. He’s going to call him anyway.”

I cried some more. “Can you stay with me on the phone? I need someone.”

“Of course, love. I’m stepping into the guest room now. I’m right here with you.” I heard shuffling, followed by the sound of a door shutting close.

After I was cried out, I slept through the night. When I woke up, my phone was cradled against me, drained out of battery. I put it to charge and started my day. I knew Tara would call soon to check up on me. Thankfully, I didn’t have to teach, so I stayed home. I emailed to cancel my meetings. I had a committee meeting, but at this point, I was past giving a penny. I needed self-care, and I was taking the day for it.

When Tara called around 10 a.m., she said, “You sound better.”

“I feel better. I’m hurting, but I can’t afford to keep crying about it, not at this stage in my life.”

“You won’t have to, I promise,” Tara said.

“I love you, Tara. I can’t imagine how last night would’ve been if I didn’t have you.”

“I know. I’ve been there, and you were my rock. I love you too. Now get something to eat, and I’ll see if I can come up for a visit during your spring break.”

In April, Tara flew up, and together, we spent the most relaxing spring break I’d had in my teaching tenure. We stayed away from the crowded beaches to go dancing, shopping, and bowling. We also caught a few Broadway shows. She didn’t bring up Mihir, and neither did I. From Tara’s demeanor, it appeared as if she’d made peace with the fact that Mihir and I were over.

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